Melancholy

Frustration is typing a series of words I think would make sense, only to erase them all over again. Frustration is struggling to figure out who I should be and what I should be saying or doing. Frustration is spewing incoherent sentences because I can't fathom my thoughts into anything whole.
I am feeling frustrated.
For once in a very long time, I detest what is underneath my skin and not what is on my skin. I hate how my emotions get so violent, but it's always something I resort to now, to be less vulnerable I guess. I hate how I get tired of people so quickly now, like there's always something to pick out and find fault with. Why is it getting so hard to see the good in people I thought I could never mistrust? How easy and childish it is to say, I wish this would all go away and leave me alone, but the world isn't a wish granting factory (yes I watched TFIOS today).

I don't need anyone to come along and try so hard to see through me. I hate that. I'm not an open book and I don't wish to be one. Understanding the maze of someone's mind should be like a rose bud blooming, not like kids opening presents on Christmas morning. I was in the shower midway, then I realized it wasn't just water going down my face anymore. I didn't want to break, it just happened. I'm thinking I'm not so likeable anymore, my heart turned cold, my shining light turned bleak. I'm quite done with feeling hateful, so please, forget me and let me live the way I used to. Let me find my way without anyone putting a hand to my throat or breathing down my neck. For now, I'm better off on my own.

(reminder that no one is ever who they seem to be)