010. Venting does not do much.

Except it makes you feel 100 times better. Okay thats a lie. Not 100 times better. But 10...possibly.

So I've come to the realization that I'm second place at best. This does not mean I am disheartened over it...ashamed...or upset. It means I'm coming to realizations about myself and my own true character. This second place has nothing to do with the person I am, no. It has to do with relationships. Not friendships...not jobs...not school...not life. Relationships. I never speak of those. I usually write sappy def jam poems that I recite to myself daily in the place of an actual writing or conversation. I don't write about how I'm feeling in the midst of problems with anyone that I've givin my heart to. This has always seemed to just be a personal choice...and personal respect for myself. Announcing I'm happy, hurt, or sad based upon another person can be only that persons gratification or heartache. No one else is going to appretiate or regret how I'm feeling but the other person involved. Tonight just seemed like a good night to start and end my struggles with venting.

I'm always a second choice. A back up. If all else fails...I will either be waiting or conveniently placed in a position of weakness. Many mistake my kindness for weakness. I have to admit that I have even mistaked my kindness for weakness at times. I end up becoming engaged in the moment forgetting reality, thoughs, or the aftermath. I hand over my trust all too easily to many who aren't sure how to handle it. My heart does not go out to many...and when it does I always hope that it means something to someone other than just another heart. Its come to the point now that I almost never give away my heart. It is under lock and key. I did give it away recently...and had it thrown back...like a pass...slowly....slowly...dropped. With respect in tact by one single strand I give the benefit of the doubt. My mind says harsh words and even harsher thoughts that my voice would never convey. I accept that some just cant understand that I'm real...and every movement I make concerning love, like, or lust is taken seriously. I wouldnt mind the game, as I have often been the star player once before. I hung up the jersey in hopes to claim something a little larger and a little stronger. As I continue my search my heart still holds one in a corner pocket. Its not going to happen. I'm hurt now, past upset,and miles from angry.


Communication is key. Without it things are lost, forgotten, and broken. Even the grown should remember this...as intelligent as they may be.


My smile struggles.