If You Wanted Honesty, It's All You Had To Say

I don't understand.

At all.

For once in my life, I decided to start telling the truth. Always.

And all it's doing is getting into trouble. Everywhere I go, it's like I'm tripping into a mess, even a failure of a mess.

Now, of course my dad will say, "It's just Satan's opposition to get you to stop telling the truth." But what can I say when most of the messes I run into are because my parents are getting after me?

I really just don't understand.

Now, don't get me wrong, my parents are great people and all they mean for is the best. But, even still, I'm awfully confused.

The funny thing about this post is the title was the first lyrics I heard when I started writing this post, and it coincidentally relates to what this is about.

I finally feel like I'm finding like I've found my place, and all of the sudden everything else begins to come crashing down. Gravity is my enemy. I feel like I have a chance at my future for once, I feel like I can try to be happy, but why are all of these things pointing at me that I shouldn't?

Again, "Satan's opposition" and all, but the problem is that the things I feel like I'm okay with now, my parents are dissatisfied and get after me, and I begin to worry about those things again, thus my brain becoming a tyrant of misery.

And yet again, I just don't understand.

Again, please don't become confused. I love my parents. They're doing the best they can. I just.................................

After Kyle left, things have been different.


Have you ever noticed that people never actually fully trust some one? We always have a small gram, even a milligram, of a secret that we dare not share. We don't want to be judged, and we know our friends will not judge us, but yet we cannot convince ourselves to be completely open, much like the beautiful flowers of spring.

We feel like nothing will ever change.

Correction: I feel like nothing will ever change.

But will it?

They say I don't ever have a reason to be depressed. But, I just can't control it. It's like this horrid beast that is inside of me that always craves for the outside world, not wanting to be shut away in my mind. It comes out and hates me. It comes out and it tortures me.

I hate it.

Wow . . . I sound like some freak. I suppose I am, but I don't mean to sound dark. I'm sorry, I try to be happy. I really do. It's just sometimes I . . . I don't know. Why don't I ever know? Why?

Why can't I just know everything?

Why?

I fear the night, for that is when the beast comes. And that's when I can do the least about it. I can't talk to a friend, I can't call a friend, I don't want to wake up my parents, I can't see some one I love, I can't do something I love. I just sit there, trapped in the arena of my mind, my thoughts being the weapons the fighters use to only hurt themselves and not the enemy.

Yikes. I do need to stop writing about this.

My dad is currently telling me why I need to do more practicing.

It's always this way.

More, Brett. You haven't done enough. Keep giving more, do more, serve more, read more, get better grades, do more work, more more more more more more
more
more
more
more
more

When it will stop?

The world may never know.

I for one don't.

I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I don't want your words telling me how great I am. I don't want sweet talk.

I want the truth for once.

I want to be enough.