I've been thinking that I might do some poetry on here, but the two poems I started on here both decided that they were songs instead. Being songs, I don't really feel like they make very go poems, so I don't feel comfortable posting them.
They probably aren't very good songs either, honestly. When I woke up this morning, the first thought in my mind was, "I should just go ahead and delete both the lyrics I've written on WordPress, and the melody I plinked out in Garage Band, and never do this ever again." My next thought was, "Great. Another day of self destruction."
I'm trying really hard to be positive. I know that right now I could paint the Mona Lisa, and I'd probably rip it up and throw it in the trash, claiming that it wasn't worth the canvas I painted it on. Then again how will I ever know if anything I do is any good? When I'm manic I think I'm hot shit, and when I'm depressed I can't even do the most basic of things.
The truth is probably somewhere in between. It usually is, but I don't really find that comforting. I don't want to be average. I want to be exceptional. I want to stand out and have people say, "Wow, she's awesome," instead of feeling like just another emo girl with too much time on her hands.
It didn't really help that my husband's reaction to the love song I wrote him was so underwhelming. He had other things on his mind, today, I know. I just wish I felt like I was more important than the last item on everyone's to-do list.
Anyway, that's enough bitching for today. I can't give you a sincere smile, so have a bunch of fake ones.