After Bite

Being passionate comes with a price. And sometimes I don't think the reward is worth it. Because I hate drama drama drama. And people laugh and nod their heads in agreement but there's a deeper reason I despise the awful stuff and that reason is you.
That "you", I guess, I directed towards everyone because I don't trust anyone but myself anymore.
Because I'm sick of roller coasters and mystery and the constant quiver between hope for a new day and eternal let-down.

I want to put every sentence in parenthesis (because I'm scared of saying something I don't mean).
People are tracking too close to what I say and my tongue is getting tired of having to talk such heavy words.
I want to yell simple, meaningless nothings every once in a while and have someone around to listen to them.

But things are too heavy.

I want to capture everything in quotations "because I just don't believe it anymore".
I want to be the gullible girl some more. That ended too early. I want to believe too easily and have everyone laugh when I look to the ceiling once again and see that your name still isn't written on it.
I want to laugh at myself for believing again.

But the jokes aren't funny anymore.

Once again I loved too easily. I believed too soon. I laid all my weight upon the fault line. And even my strong hope couldn't stop the earth from shaking. And for that I am mad at myself and my weak soul.

I can say one thing without any sort of uncertainty. That I need someone to lift me. Even if it's just for a little while.
I am so sick of the heavy that, this time, I know I just can't ignore.

I guess I had to learn someday that popcorn burns fast if you're not watching it closely and that vampires aren't even real and their bites only poison some and that I guess my brother-in-law was right and all people who drive trucks really are douchebags and maybe Las Vegas really was too far of a drive anyways and the magic we talked about was all just glitter and dust.
I guess I learned.
But oh how I loved my niavety.