I suck at being honest.
No. That’s not totally accurate.
I suck at expressing my feelings. I can’t express how I feel, which then causes me to be less than honest about them. That is totally accurate. It’s also totally asinine.
I’ve never been able to tell someone exactly what’s on my mind. I can infer and beat around the bush and eventually get my point across, but not once can I come right out and say what it is I’m feeling or thinking.
If I could just grow some balls and not worry about the “what ifs” and say what I need to say, I’d probably save a lot of time and a lot of heartache. But I can’t. I’m too scared. Always have been.
Much of the time, the moment just passes without incident. There are no repercussions. No moments of regret. But there have been times when everything just happens at once. Everything builds up and it just festers. That’s when bad shit happens. That’s when it seems like life starts to unravel. That’s when you start to look for a way out.
That’s why I write. I write to myself to unload the feelings that I can’t make known to anyone else. And you know what? It helps. A little. And I listen to music. You’ll never find me without music playing. That’s my way out. Obviously I’m not getting any feedback or advice, so I do end up making some wrong choices here and there.
But life is full of wrong choices. You just have to learn to live with them.