THE NOTEPAD
I hope I find peace.
Write.... write.... write.......
The slope of my pen has been so slow, fine tuned to my audience taste, locked, shielded, a breeze.
Sigh, jumble of emotions written in words but I don't still understand, free-form, imperfection in perfection, what I'm I even saying.
What is this? Art? Am I creative or a fraud?
I write for people no longer,
I feel for them, I don't document,
Now my words are inconsistent, what is this?
Feelings........Feelings............
I'm tired of feeling for people.
Why I'm I writing? Why do you write?
Why does Samuel create?
Photography, videography, writing, creating.
What I'm I creating?
I've questioned myself for the umpteenth time?
My friends say "Samuel looks depressed" or "he's in his thinking state".
What I'm thinking of? Questioning my creativity and myself.
Questioning my thoughts and mindset.
Making it hard to be present and it's very frustrating when my all so perfect friends that just somehow get it together and I feel like I'm the stupid one or the all feeling one.
As I'm writing this, I feel like an imposter, a fraud, a lier, an abomination, a retard, a subjected human to his lists and imperfection, a drowning person that is trying so hard to keep it in.
An applause love person, and once again A FRAUD.
Deep insideeeeeeeee, help is screaming, time is going
Screaming...screaming SAMUEL COME OUT!!!!
What do you want?
What do I want?
Who wants me?
Who am I?
Reading this aloud just shows how I don't trust myself to be fine. Should I be fine?
Do I want to be loved, is there love in me?
My friend would say "we are definitely not staying here, these thoughts need to go" — this friend in particular gives thoughts, advices and judgements to my thoughts and behavior that are supposedly and probably bad and my friends take those words important and change, but these words hurt me deeply like a knife that strolling into the veins and arteries of the heart.
I've learnt to cope with these words cause some are the truth but they still hurt either way and I feel like I'm at fault or bad.
I see myself bad all the time like I'm some evil villain.
People rarely ask about me, those that ask will judge me and keep asking questions that trigger me or I can't put into words. Some feel like I'm a bother, always sulking like I'm on my "menstruation".
My friends are reading their forensic microbiology and I'm over here pouring my thoughts unto my notepad that nobody is going to see.
Farewell to these thoughts cause I hope I'll be fine and better.
"We definitely not staying here" — @precious Kingsley
I hope I findpeace
Yours sincerely,
Samuel.writes