write what you know

what does that even mean? "write what you know". writing is about discovering things you didn't know. sometimes, just sometimes... i write and write and write, and out comes some profound thing i didn't know about myself. or i make some determination about my own discretion, or lack there of.

for example... i'm quite lonely. not lonely without love or friendship... just lonely in general, and somewhat by choice. self-inflicted and bad for my health... but, it's difficult to let people in. even those that are already close to me i keep at arm's length. some inquire... some discover... most are left blinded in the dark. i am the later. i would like to be in the middle... but, i'm dead last when it comes to being in the know about "me". someone asked me tonight, "what brings you happiness?" i hadn't an answer. i couldn't even lie. i merely shifted my eyes, shrugged and kicked dirt around. i'd rather, maybe, just ignore those sort of questions. they make me examine myself. that's not an easy thing. i don't know that i like me. i mean... i could be a better person. i could love more. i could laugh more. i could be more honest. but, i guess this is always the case. i bet even Mother Theresa lied once or twice. she may have even swore.

i'll pretend not to notice you,
i'll laugh, i'll joke, i'll say "later".
when i really want to
kiss and hug and say "goodbye".

i'll pretend you don't notice me,
i'll break the locked looks before you,
i'll take the melting feeling in my chest
and bury it where it can't hurt us.

they all notice us,
not noticing each other.
they've seen us shake hands,
when we really want to hold hands.

i'll pretend not to notice,
the heavy pressure on my ribs
i get when you try not to smile at me.
when you try not to crush on me.

i'll pretend for as long as i can.
when i can't pretend anymore...
i'll disappear.

dammit. these crushes of mine will destroy me. these crushes of mine will destroy him. dammit.