Lana Del Rey’s Grandmother, Beatrice Dautresme for Vogue, Paris 1969
You know. I’m tired of knowing that I am smart. I am. I know a lot about a lot. Not everything, and I can only go so far in depth of a conversation about a subject. If I don’t know, I love hearing and learning about it. But I am tired of thinking I am boring and lifeless. Though I know I am neither. I am full of life. Wanting to learn. Go on adventures. Travel. And love again…. I want to be able to love again. I want to share sexual and spiritual experiences with someone. Someone that will make me strive to become a better me. Though I have found someone that has taken down bricks in my wall. And has made me want to go forth even more with myself. But I also would like to keep that friend by me. To share those feelings that I have felt.
So why do I feel so lifeless? So hurt and hateful? I’m tired of carrying the pain of the past. All this hard work seems to be for nothing. I’m working hard to stay in the same spot as I started. Working hard to get no where. Caring for nothing. Caring for the wrong people. having faith in the world that turns its back on me. But yet I still fight, fight with what strength I have. Why can’t I be weak for once? Why can’t I just break down and stay broken? Knowing the comfort wont come. Thats why. So I have to put my best forth. Be strong for myself. Stronger than I could ever be. And be brave.
So why does all this make me feel so lifeless? Countless. Worthless.
Is it I’m easily forgotten that makes me feel I am worthless? Or is it just I’m tired of seeing the faces of people around me do droned into the homing devise that brain washes them into beetles to mine a false world.
and reveled there ..
I have. Can’t have them. I want them, but I’m not ready…