Regret,
Lingers like the taste of an old cigarette.
Regret,
The one thing you'll never let yourself forget.

So many posts, so many poets, all with so much to say:
From depression to elation, amusement or anger,
Face happy melancholy on a lonely nostalgia,
For ridiculous notions of false power, ugly truths
and beauty which scours
a battle between angst
and acceptance in their most forlorn hours, spent
at home or away, throughout night or day, so many words
struggling to capture, release or keep at bay
these things we all feel everyday.

Sometimes I just don't know what to say
so I let another's words give my thoughts away:
"I guess I could be pretty ******* about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world.
Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much.
My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst;
And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can't feel anything but gratitude
for every single moment of my stupid little life."
That's all I didn't have to say.

Perhaps I've always been too quiet.
Perhaps I've always been too shy.
Perhaps I've always been afraid to look you in the eye.
Perhaps I get jealous too easily.
Perhaps I complain too much
and suffer from anxiety.
But perhaps this is who I am.
Or perhaps this isn't who I want to be.

If you haven't noticed I overthink...everything!
Even my own existence.

I never understood how both
a self-obsessed egomaniac
and a hopeless romantic
could inhabit one body;
perhaps it is the reason
I have spent so much time
in front of the mirror, hating myself.