She Hates Herself Because

I always believe I want a dirty little secret, but no matter what I cannot keep it. The excitement of only knowing something on my own just makes my mind feel at home. I never get enough attention, so I wrongly look for it through physical affection. I can't help it that it makes me feel overly good. There's just nothing else that ever could. The stage fright controls every solo I play. Not only is that with cello, but also bass. I shake and I anticipate ticky notes coming up next, and then I quickly fuck up again. The times I tried to sip or smoke weed, honestly made me fully despise me. It was in the moment I thought it would make me feel better, take me to some new pleasure. Anger can control my opinions and fears and I let those grudges stay held for years. But it's no different when I care because even if the person hates me, in any situation, I'd be there. Procrastination is my best friend and we never along too well toward the end. I'm not sure whatever set me so far back, but since I was young, I've never been able to break that. Half the time I love bineg alone like this, but secretly I want to get married and have two kids. I try not to be selfish, manipulative, and mean, but commitment and Valentine's Day just aren't my scene. Perhaps I'll never be happy and carefree, or I'll truly love little heartless me. Maybe now I'm happy and I don't know it, or tomorrow I'll realize I am and go off to blow it. Living is harder than I ever thought it to be. And then evolution had to go and add feelings. [ ]