I hate it. The feeling of utter… uselessness that comes with thinking. You can think and think, learn everything you want and then, when it's too late, you realize too late, you realize you haven't learned at all.

Look at me. I fell in love with someone I met, simply because they were interesting. Because they were different then the people around them. They stood out, even though most would label them plain. Unexciting. I suppose that is my curse. To see in others what many overlook, because many overlook it in me.

That's the heart of it, I think. Everyone overlooked things in me, the only things I was proud of, and… look where it left me. Standing here, on the edge of a dream I do not want to admit I wish was real. Looking around, and feeling content with this. Ready. I… I just want it to end, nowadays. These thoughts. Look at them. They're all so content… just like I feel. I can only get what they have by putting myself on the edge. Literally. I only feel what they all say I lack when I'm about to…

It's nice, I suppose. Feeling alive. Ready to give it my all, just so it will end.

The thoughts.

The words of doubt.

The unending expectations.

The love I can't bear to feel.

It… it hurts, is the best way to describe it. I try and try, doing what they want, while still not bowing to their views. I try to be myself, what I want, and still be what they need. They need too much. A hero. An answer. Something to turn to when they don't understand. The only thing they don't understand is that I don't.

I don't understand.

I can feel so happy, exactly what they say I can't, and all it takes is a look and I'm back to where I was. Where I am. Where they want to keep me. In this… easily manipulatable form, ready to do as they bid so that they may feel good about themselves, the pitiful things they do in order to be on top. To be the best.

There is no best.

There is no right and wrong. There is only what we are. What we are isn't much. We, as a people, tear each other down; destroy any hope that isn't ours so that we can have a semblance of our own hope surviving. We fight. We are just another species of animal on this earth. We are nothing.

So why do I feel like we're worth… something? What makes us, me and you, different? Why do I hesitate now when I hardly thought at all before?

We're back to it again. My thoughts. My poor, treacherous thoughts.

Will you hate me?

What will you do?

Where will you go, who will you be?

Who will you be without me, love?

Who can you be without me holding you down?

Watching you, preparing for the jump, for my fall… all I can think of is how much you will fly if only you will watch.

Watch and wait.

-SH