public journal #4

Dear PJ,

at one point i can really think about so many things in one time.
it is tiring, honestly.
there are just too much.
i am sick of it.
i am sick of them.
i am sick of signifying nothing.

truthfully,
i want out.
but there is no legal exit for me.

people ask me to carry on.
they don't know the weight.
i am a no muscle-builder.
yet they all carry the same extra package.

i'll still live.
well, at least i'll wake up on my bed as the same me.

ignorance feeds me everyday.
pride let me walk on the road.
confidence put me into right answers.
confusion let me smash everything into pieces.

yet,
words are meaningless at the moment.
they stood momentarily as self-defenses.

after all, i am not flawless.
there are still roads for me to choose.
decisions for me to kiss.
perks for me to utilize.

i want to be good but good is not enough.
perhaps best would be the best answer.

mark my word, PJ.

"though i stumble and fall down till it breaks the very last of my bones,
my will shall be stronger than my bones that it shall break everyone's gut as they see me."

-frvrjak-