But it makes all the sense to me.
I want to open up, but at the same time I want to hide. I love my walls, but think they'd be better if they were lower. I'm scared, to open up. I don't want to be judged. It's different. Having someone think they know something and judge you or having someone know stuff and judge you.
You all think you know me, but you only know what i let you know. I hide more than you think, and I'm not an open person. Lies, we're invented for people like me, because without them I'd be weak.
I saw you looking any scars. I know you were trying to hide that you were looking, but it didn't work. I saw you. And now I am terrified, that's my secret. Those are my scars. They are for all the lies I've told, the mistakes I've made, and the memories I can't remake.
When you asked me my new addiction I was tempted to tell. Not because I wanted attention, but because I'm sick of lying. I am ashamed of it, but at the same time it makes me happy. In this world few things make you happy, so whatever it takes, right?
I know you don't really care about me. I know you just like to know stuff. So it hurts when you ask me questions because I know it's not for my benefit. Why can't you just care. Why doesn't anyone care?
I'm in a funk. My brain never shuts off. My emotions are extremes. I need something more. I need more.
