Words.

Words. They're all I have to give anymore. Words that form me. Words that define what I am. Words that describe what I have to give. Words that come from my soul. Words that come from my heart. Inevitably, words that mean nothing to you.

That's really all I have to give anymore. Words. Some that show you how I care; some that don't. Words that come out of my mouth and tell you what's on my mind and in my heart. Words that will be the death of me, and words that will keep me hanging on by a thread. Words of amazing inspiration and my theoretical mind making things unique.

Words.

I can't go much longer knowing that my words don't mean anything to you. I can't live with knowing that I'm the reason that you think I lie; that my words are false. I remain calm now - no need to get worked up for no reason anymore. The more I fight it, it seems, the more you shy away from believing in my words ever again. You look past things because you love me, but deep down, you don't believe me.

It kills me to know that you're hurt.
Every single day, I sit with myself knowing that you deserve someone that you can trust; someone that you can believe in. That someone, to you, isn't me. As much as you love me, you don't desire to believe me. My words of emotion have poured out and they haven't been caught. They've lied on the ground and looked up for someone to pick them up, one by one, even. No suitable takers anymore, Robbie. No more people to pick them up. No more of people believing in you. In this time, I have to believe in myself, and it's been extremely hard to do. I've already had inner problems. Ones that haven't went away, obviously. My mind has distorted my own image of myself. I can't actually see myself anymore. My words can't actually form a meaning without someone there choosing to believe in them. Without that, my words are nothing. Just as helpless as the last thing that went out of date.
Just as helpless as the old Robbie.

Just as helpless as you are when you try to believe me.

I've never given you a reason not to, but you just don't believe me.
I guess that's what I get.
That's what I get for giving you everything I have.
That's what I get for showing you that you deserve better than what you were getting.
That's exactly what I get for giving you every reason to love me, and meaning it.

That's what I get for loving you.
For loving everything about you.
Every little thing.
That's what I get.

My Repose.

Sometimes I wish I could sleep until the pain went away. I wish I could sleep; one of those long, hard, uninterrupted sleeps just to get the feeling out of my head for a while. Sleeping would allow me to forget about all of the stress, all of the heartache, all of the confusion and loss. It would all be gone. Sleeping would allow me to forget about time. Time in which everyone else sees it would be like the raindrops on a window. It would all run down and eventually fall into empty space. I want to sleep so that I don't have to hear your voice scold me. God knows I've tried to make you see just how much you mean to me, but something tells me that the deed isn't done in the same context.
I would sleep so that my heart wouldn't break. It's been held together by another human being, and shattered all the same. This is why I'm so reluctant to give people chances anymore. I can't bear to hurt anymore. Sleeping would make it go away. The broken heart is a hard thing to mend, especially if yours is broken. I would sleep so that the sound of my grandmother crying every time I leave home wouldn't play in my head, nor my heart anymore. It absolutely crushes me to hear her cry like that. I get all choked up when I hear her crying and when I feel her clutch me. She most certainly a big part of me. She's getting old now. It worries me to leave because I don't want it to be the last time I see her again. My world would break if I lost her.
I would rest so that I couldn't feel anymore. No more feelings of sorrow or depression would ring through me. No more thoughts would fill my head of you leaving me. No more thoughts of you dropping me and leaving me for something better out there. I know it comes to everybody's head every once in a while at least: the thought of your loved one leaving you behind. I trust that this wouldn't happen to me. I'm going with my heart.
I would sleep to numb myself.
To avoid seeing you hurt.
I would sleep to sleep. To not awake just yet.
I would sleep to let go.
I would wake up with a broken heart all along.
I can't avoid it.
I'd sleep with a broken heart.
None of this makes sense.

Leaving Me

“Don’t leave me. Don’t go. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me behind. Don’t let me fall.”

I could write a thousand words without meanings of saving me, yet you’d still go. I could hurdle mountains of honesty that you throw at me, yet I’d still be right here. Leaving me without notice; without written paragraphs and lines of reasons, that’s no reason to leave me. Sitting alone in darkness for days on end won’t fix this. Allowing things to get worse won’t either. Memories of you are emblazoned into my head; dripping from it a small truth that losing you is scary. Losing you is beyond my fathomable mind. I can’t allow it to happen. I’ll let you go first. I’ll take you on a ride to the moon where we can count the stars in lines of shining rays, glistening in your eyes. I’ll put that smile upon your face and make time lose its worth. Imaginary lines of division will lose themselves in colors of purity and safety as you blink. I’ll trace over them. We can sing melodies of dreams; lullabies of God’s hope etched onto your skin like insignias. Purposeful meanings of love will brush your face as I go above and beyond what a promise really means. Representations of happiness will fly to your fingertips and change your life as you know it. Leaving me isn’t your counter to my scarce ‘I love yous’. The question of whether it’s right or not will hold no meaning to my mind as I leap into perspectives of a million ladybugs, scattering about. Even when faded dreams are illogical losing you is still far from optional. So please. Don’t go. Don’t let go of me; of who I am. Don’t let go of memories that will stick with you forever. Don’t let go of forever.

Unless you have to.

Currently listening to:
“I can live without you but without you I’ll be miserable at best.” –Mayday Parade – Miserable At Best

Whirlwind.

Lately, my mind has been in a whirlwind of emotions. Fluctuations of past feelings; not the actual feeling themselves, but more or less memories of the broken path I was on, and how I go to where I am now emotionally. It's as if I had forgotten my past somewhat. I've been living in a world without memories for a while and now, a year later, something reminds me of all of the emotional experiences I've had. Maybe it was the leaves. Maybe the season. Maybe it's just normal. Everything comes back to me. It hurts sometimes. I keep it to myself. I can feel the frame of what I used to feel. I had so much in front of me. So many different roads to tumble and fall deeply down. Now, my tied-up tongue is clumsy; holding me down for seems like a century. I wish I could have thought things a little more through. Maybe things would be different. Giving what's real to people hasn't been any harder.

One day, I'd like to write a song. In that song, I could make and verse of words my own. My own free feelings. My own free thoughts and outspoken gestures in the form of poetry. Until that day comes, I will be here, waiting for it all to come together.

Why?

"Cause I'm out-dated, overrated.."
Lessons learned.
I'm not sure where I'd be without them. I wish I could say that they have made me a better person. I wish I could make you believe that. I wish I could make myself believe it. The truth is, the puzzle doesn't fit into place that way. I'm so unbelievably terrified. Even after an entire year. I'm afraid to get hurt; afraid of people leaving me like they always seem to do. I always seem to find the people in my life that mean so much to me leave me in some way, shape, or form. I know, I'm aware, this seems to be all I ever write about here. I don't know what else to write about. I have to force the words out, they don't flow as freely as they once did. I'm not exactly sure why it's like this. I can't explain my hindrances; nobody really can to be honest.

I've got to pick myself up somehow. I taught myself to do it before. I became self-reliant. I was independent. Somehow, I lost all of that along the way. The path I'm on doesn't relate to the road not taken for me. I surely don't want to miss my past. I don't want to want to be this way. I hate not being able to write. I feel like my mind is trapped in an open field. Trapped with no fences or barriers but myself.

The only thing that fixed this was a breakdown. I complete breakdown. I need one. I need to hurt really bad. It's like reformatting a computer; there are only a limited amount of times you can run the utilities until you'll eventually have to reformat your system. I know I'm young. But I have feelings. I feel as if I've matured enough to 'love'. I've felt it before and have hurt from it plenty of times.
A breakdown is bittersweet. It's horrible at first, but gives you a reason to grow in the long run.

I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. I wasn't last time. /:

Weightless.

I'm actually not sure why I'm writing this. So much has happened since my last entry on here, and I'm not sure what to write about now. Things seem.. Different. So much more different than they were 2 months ago. I know I should have kept writing, and been consistent with everything. Even now, I'm not exactly sure what I should write about. Things have changed so much since I last wrote; some good and some bad. Some things happened and some never even formed together.

I lost a best friend. Someone who I never wanted to lose. And now it seems like that person doesn't want to do anything but see me fail. We will refer to this person as "X". "X" doesn't want to be my friend but wants to see me fight for them. "X" wants me to fight for our friendship when they aren't. There isn't much I can say about it, as of now.

I started college. Oakland University. It's actually a great thing. I get to further my education and studies. I'm excited to learn and progress with everything. The atmosphere at OU is astounding. It's a learning atmosphere. Everyone there wants to learn, and wants to get their education. They all want to progress and become successful. Which makes complete sense, seeing as how students are paying money to learn there. Overall, my college experience is great so far.

My feelings have grown deeper. From the depths within me, I can feel my thoughts flow out into my arms and veins, into my hands; stopping right at my fingertips. The words won't form anymore. The feelings won't allow me to type. They wouldn't allow me to write what I feel, whether it be a pen or on these very keys that I bear my writing now. It's like, I can't get over the hump. I can't push myself over, and nobody can help me over either. I'm stuck.
"Turn a page, I'm a book half unread."
The phrase couldn't have been said better.

I'm not sure anymore. Not sure about various things. I guess I'm just stuck. I've heard it's normal. But so many different things are just so out of the ordinary, and life most definitely isn't the same. I guess it's what I should have expected. Change.

Until next time.
-Robbie Williford
"Before I run far away, I need to take a holiday."
(Rough draft was saved on August 17th, actually published on September 23rd.)

1000 Shades of Gray. (Unfinished)

1000 shades of gray.

In the middle arises a lone color.

Small, yes, but slowly becoming strong, confident. Proud.

The color rises and grows, grasping each and every shade.

Carefully not allowing it to fade away.

Soon, the color can show it’s true self; it’s true form of identity.

Thereafter, it can take over the 1000 shades of gray.

It can move the shades; allowing them to fall freely from the grasps of it’s roots.

The color takes flight, while the gray falls into the hole of empty dreams.

It flies across the dimly lit cup; allowing it’s being to slightly spill over the edge.

What is real is the site of the colors dripping down the edges of the cup.

I'm not sure what propelled me to even write this. I'm also not sure how to finish it. I must've been in a certain state of mind because I found it on my hard drive on my desktop computer while cleaning it. Let me know what you think of it.