Well, the site said to write about what our hearts feel... this is mine.

Pariah - Serianna.
If you find the lyrics, you may begin to see how I feel. . . which is off on how I usually am.
Well, if I'm supposed to write about what my heart feels, no sense holding back. On the other hand, who the heck are you people? I know some of you pretty closely, others enough to know they don't give a buck nor a dollar about me, or my thoughts. But enough about you. I do and don't care about you. It's confusing how it works simultaneously, and it does work simultaneously. Point is that I understand why I can hold back.
Let's start with something recent.

Look familiar? It would if you would read my older posts. DO  IT! I read your older posts; read mine. Compare then and now. It's what I'm doing a lot of lately. If you don't understand the context of what I'm about to write, whatever. You figure it out! I don't need to hold your hand through my thoughts.
I got back in contact. We've been. . . talking. Reminiscing on our good times. Bad times? Not so much. Why do I bring this up? It's been on my heart for years. Literally, years. And I have left room open there, but no one is on my level.

Let's talk about my level. I'm the open dreamer. Yeah, you're a dreamer. A lot of people argue they are dreamers. But I openly share and pursue mine, and have been for the past decade. So, by that standard, you are probably on a different level. And now relationships. Not the lovey dovey crap I could care less about. Parents, family, friends. I'm loyal, even to a fault. How people think that lying to anyone for personal gain is fun or cool or good or worth it is less than what they could be. Duh! So what? Why should I care? Because, like I said, I'm loyal to the fault where I will fight against the lie.

That just crawls under my skin. And then I have friends who do the same. Crawling under my skin. Lately I've felt some insane things that I won't really share or go into detail about, but when I try to get some help from a friend and they never respond to a text or pick up the phone, and seem to live on a level where something I could deem very trivial is everything to them, it starts to drive rusted nails through soul and life. How can I trust you if you won't take me seriously?

Suck it up. . . Grrrrrr! I just wanna go off, like a time bomb that has been ticking ferociously for too long. I want to go nuclear, and let what I've held back out, and make it devastating. Burn not only bridges, but bodies. The idea of just retaliating is so tempting. To crush some smug punk's face in, or to shatter some irritating  brat girls legs is just something that leaves a chilling and dark feeling. Here's the worst part. It feels good to think about. . . somewhere I'm cracking.

My level is to be true, not only to myself, but to others. My level is to be withdrawn to avoid damage. My level is to be contained lest I can't control myself, and do something I may ultimately regret. My level is to pursue the dream through infinity. Enough about my level.

Sometimes I question things to death. I don't know why, but that's something I do when I don't understand a situation, event, person. Sometimes I feel I should be more connected, and ask questions about something. I feel like I enjoy politics, but don't care about them enough to pursue. Some things don't make sense to me, and leave me apathetic. Apathy leaves me feeling guilt, and guilt makes me want to pin the source on some whatever.

I've been going on for a long time. I could write a book about everything I think. I beat around the bush a lot. Whether my plan is to be more direct or not is still a good question. If this was a live conversation, I had a pretty big pause there. I think I'm gonna get myself killed somewhere. I-- eh. Geez, I dunno what I want to get across. I'm uncertain what I want to say. I'm not suicidal; let's clear that up right now. Just. . . *sigh*.

My heart is full

P.S. I wish I could make this shorter. Short wouldn't explain my heart.