I Am Stupid. I Realise That.

"..all of the things that I want to say,
just aren't coming out right,
I'm tripping inwards,
you got my head spinning,
I don't know where to go from here.."

Dear lonely isle,

Permission to speak freely?

I really don't know what am I doing. Or what I'm trying to do.
This was doomed to fail even before it began. And yet still I had to try, or at least, try trying.
The thing is, I don't know much about this, and indeed I'm quite the failure in this department, so I just daren't do anything. Fear of touching the matter in case something breaks.
Things have often broken in the past. I just didn't want it to happen again.
But, sometimes I go home and feel like using my head as a punching bag for being such an idiot. Nothing else quite catches the essence of pummeling myself for being so entirely and totally stupid. Something must really be wrong with me if I were to think that this might just work.

People are nice because they are.
People are nice because they are.
People are nice because they are.

And knowing that, just hurts.
Hurts like crap.

Just within reach, within sight, but never near enough.

Somebody shoot me.. and make sure I die.

love, joyce.