A white blank page and a swelling rage, rage
You did not think when you sent me to the brink, to the brink
You desired my attention but denied my affections, my affections

I think I've become a pro at numbing myself, or running away from my fears.
Reading a book about disturbed kids and I've been kinda wondering if i have conditioned myself to accept all my idiosyncrasies or perhaps amplified them. Surely I wasn't like that before.. but I'm pretty damn sure that it was at first something that was avoidable.. but i chose to crash head first. Now, I'm wounded, pretty sure scarred. Stuck in a place where I can't let myself recover. Once again, it's a choice, and I'm making the less sensible one.

Funny how we sometimes choose the less viable route when it's so obvious what is best for yourself.

Sometimes I revel in my loneliness.
Sometimes I am angered by it.

But every time someone gets close, all i want them to do is step away.
This space has become so sacred and so personal...
Have i forgotten how to share my soul?

Sometimes I take the easier way out and I blame.
I blame you and you. Both of you for taking advantage of my trust.
But then... the blame just hits the wall and falls flat on nothing.
But it's the easy way out.

Most times, I just forget and lose myself in what I have. 

But do not ask the price I paid,
I must live with my quiet rage,
Tame the ghosts in my head,
That run wild and wish me dead.