no white flag above my door

why is it the higher road tends to make my head hurt, my eyes bleed salt and my stomach turn?
all i want, all i really truly want is something so small that most people drive by without noticing. let the baby have her bottle and then leave me be.

why do people "sort of" want things in their lives but only selections or portions?
even with people.
scratch that, reverse it, especially with people.
it makes me want to wear a blindfold sometimes.
like a person is a pizza that you can remove things you don't want or add extra of what you do.
one thing i learned slinging pie--you're going to be pleasantly surprised (moreso than unpleasantly surprised) by occasionally trusting in somebody else's idea of perfection, even just a taste.

sometimes things move so fast all i can feel is my hands tugging til it's the just the fingertips clinging then nothing.

im no scientist, i cant fix people.
i can barely live up to the hype of just being me.
why cant being ever be enough?
all that has passed is still there, crammed into the little box in my head that i only open when i'm too high to feel the burning flames that erupt whenever i risk a peek in.
some days its a single teardrop, others its a tidal triste.
emotional flash flood and the current is breathtakingly beautiful even as i
gurgle down to the sediment, then kicked back up again.

i turned down the job offer.
it's just not me.