I Long For Someone to Really Know Me
I Feel... Hidden.... Poetry is my outlet. When I congest with thoughts, I regurgitate them onto paper.
Soccer is my energy drainer. When anger is pumping or anxiety is torrid, I practice and practice until I am empty with pleasure and satisfaction.
Dreams are my fields of hope and inspiration. I have curiosity that palpitates. It's wondering about the world outside. All I want to do is accomplish in and understand my life.
My point is, this being, myself seems to be so Hidden. It seems I've rarely told anyone about my qualities. I wear masquerade to exhibit happiness. But in truth, I am upset with myself. I want to be loved for who I am, whoever that is.
Soccer is my energy drainer. When anger is pumping or anxiety is torrid, I practice and practice until I am empty with pleasure and satisfaction.
Dreams are my fields of hope and inspiration. I have curiosity that palpitates. It's wondering about the world outside. All I want to do is accomplish in and understand my life.
My point is, this being, myself seems to be so Hidden. It seems I've rarely told anyone about my qualities. I wear masquerade to exhibit happiness. But in truth, I am upset with myself. I want to be loved for who I am, whoever that is.
22-25, F