the ship is sailing

and when i need to sleep: tears. when i urge to be modest: the sting of jealousy pricks into my heart. the same old story: longing for what i cannot have. it always seems the most attractive to me.
like the sea: wild, deep, raw, living by its own rules.
i need to feel cut open. then i can stage my destructive play. decorate it with compulsive drama. 

here i am, look at me! the girl who never gets what she needs. look at me, again i've won the prize, never to belong to any place, any person, any vocation but this: regret, burden, agony, mournfulness and everlasting desire for everything out of reach.

// 07.01.13