you see, sometimes i say too much and it gets me in trouble. it's a mystery. i'd like to be mysterious, but, unfortunately, i'm often an open book. my pages are here, and everything seems so clearly stated...but don't be fooled. nothing is ever as it seems.
at any moment, of any given day, there is something bopping around in my head that no one will ever know about. now these little thoughts, memories, experiences are always different, new, old, good, bad, but i'll never tell. i'll hold onto them in my head to think about when i'm bored or lonely. they're my secrets. my desires. my dislikes. my fears. my version of near and distant futures and histories long gone by. i'm a dreamer. a daydreamer.
i'll give little hints here and there, in the form of vague blogs or sweet nothings. there are always hints. these hints are only for those who desire to decipher them. i'll never fully wear my heart on my sleeve. i like to keep certain things guarded. they're usually the things that, if ever revealed, could either bring extreme happiness or sadness. as long as they stay in my head i am safe from getting hurt. but on the other hand, i could be missing out. it's a chance i have to take. i'm sensitive.
i sort of like keeping these things in my head. i love desiring certain things, it makes me feel incredibly alive. the rush of emotions certain thoughts can elicit are, at times, overwhelming. i like to be overwhelmed with feeling.
some know me too well.
some know me too well, but think they know nothing.
some know very little, but think they know me well.
some know nothing.
i keep track.
i know who knows what, and what to let them know, and what not to tell.
i'm brutally honest. i'll let you know anything.
you just have to ask the right questions.