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Ugh. I feel weird, really weird. On one hand, I have options, and on the other.. I don't have options that include what I'm wanting. I feel soooooo torn. I feel so belittled. I feel so much like an object. I didn't want this to happen, any of it. I just want to be happy. I hate feeling so bipolar.. It all changes so quickly. I am so fucking confused. I wish life were full of arrows that pointed to where you should go, or who you should choose. It'd be so much simpler. Torn.

I'm drowing in tiny shreds,
shreds in pieces like flakes of silver,
sterling silver,
melting from a torn heart
that knows the drill,
the material drill.
A routine boring deep to the core,
a hot, hot core,
that's finally bearing the heat,
an uncomfortable heat,
laced with hypnotic powers;
it brings a sadness, a sense of defeat,
a cloud of confusion,
smoke that smothers the consciousness
with bad choices.
Is it really a bad choice?
Or maybe just a temporary disillusionment,
welcomed by physical desires.
I don't know.
Impossible to know, really.
Impossible to be sure, to be confident,
to feel good, to feel successful.
Impossible to retain a sense of accomplishment,
without having it tainted by the ignorant.
Oh how I wish it were easy to be happy,
to love myself, to be content with this form.
It isn't easy,
when the outside world tears at your sun,
the fruit and the motivation of your labor,
one in the same,
torn.