lydialiciously ME

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

[if i were......]

if i were a pill. you'd be the lil' boy who hates to take his medicine.

if i were a disease. you'd be the drugs fighting against me.

if i were a flower. you'd be the blazing sun that withers me to death.

if i were the sand. you'd be the fearsome wave that beats down upon me.

if i were the rain. you'd be the earth that erases me from this land.

i don't know what i'm doing. i really don't! i don't at all! and i hate it! i absolutely hate it! it's unfair. i don't want to feel like this. i hate this feeling. i hate the way it makes me feel like nothing. nothing at all. so invisible. so useless. so dependent. so down right dumb.

what makes other people so much better than me? what makes other people more valuable? haven't i tried to become a better person? don't you realise i'm not perfect? that nobody is?

what must i do to make you understand? to make you realise that we don't live in a perfect world?

a broken toy. wound and broken. so broken. impossible to fix? but the toymaker has his ways. he fixes her. the way a father would nurse a daughter. she's as good as new. or is she? for now. but as the coils tighten. they burst and spoil again. broken. she's broken. the toymaker is disappointed yet again. why? why did it have to break. all the time and effort. why? the toy lies still. why? why did i have to break again? what's wrong with me? why? both are despaired and disappointed. he leaves her on the workbench. trying to figure out what to do. and there she lay. unable to move. unable to serve her purpose. to bring joy. to bring laughter. is it over? is this my last day? will i be thrown away? the toy worries day and night. till one day. the toymaker returns. he picks up the toy and looks at her. memories fill his mind. all the time and effort he put into making her. he shall not waste them. a sense of joy fills the toy. i can be fixed. he will fix me. he loves me. yes. she is fixed. perfect he thought. but deep inside. the toy can never be fixed. she's already broken. wound and broken. no longer perfect. never was. never will be again.

i can't do my work. i really don't know how. i've tried and tried and tried. i've tried twitching the codes here and there. but to no avail. i added something and now it's screwed. damn. i'm friggin' stressed up. so stressed up i feel like crying.

i feel so god damned useless. i hate the feeling. never liked it. i don't like to fail. i really don't. i hate it so much it makes me sick. ignore my mediocre nature. that's not who i am. i HATE to fail.

i've only got myself to blame.

lydia was in deep thought at 7:36 AM