written by: TM DiSarrro
In retrospect I liked myself so much more when I was miserable, I felt at home being alone and remaining somewhat invisible. Creativity was easy and it flowed just like a faucet, now I long for sadder days as happy makes me nauseous.
There was so much more I had to say when I was hating you, my anger made me feel alive and totally rang true. Now a difference of opinion fades like dying flowers, as I count the seconds, into minutes, into hours.
Seems I have to draw out pain like money from a bank, suffocated by contentment with you alone to thank. Misery loves company and I'm my own best friend, but being happy isn't easy and I must pretend.
I never realized how much it cost for me to be so nice, when it's so easy being sad and I can loathe and not think twice. They say that love and marriage is somehow a state of bliss, but dwelling on the past is still the top thing that I miss.
Missings not the same as having, wanting is blessing, you may ask what has more power, sinning or confessing. What inspires musings best the guilting or the pleasure? Where to draw the lines of thought, the process or the measure?
One more thing I failed to mention, failing is my favorite word, a final thought is something taught observing the obsurd. Having's not the same as wanting, this I know is true, for once you have things you want, you look for something new.