__Coward__

I don't like my life very much anymore.
I'm not sure if I ever really have.
I'm not a happy person generally, really pessimistic the majority of the time.

I'm really into escapism these days,
I read books, I watch movies, I listen to music that reflects the way that I feel,
The music reflects my thoughts,
But only if you're really listening for it.

I do things to distract from my own life,
The ever-growing list of problems to deal with.

Escaping feels safer, not safe exactly, just safer.
Like I can lie to myself for a few hours,
Even if no one else is buying it.
And I'm really starting to wonder if anyone does,
Buy it, that is.

I've never been a very good liar,
My eyes tell what my words won't say.
So maybe it would be better, easier if I would just tell them.
But what would I say?

I've been lying, to them and myself for too long,
To even know how to word how I feel.
He probably understands better than I do.
The way his eyes flash when they meet mine,
Tells me that He at least isn't buying it,
My lame attempt at Okayness.

But it would hurt them all alot more,
To actually know, instead of merely assuming.
They'd worry,
Or at least he would.

The words would only cut,
The tears would sting the wounds I had caused.

So perhaps silence is better,
How easily it is to justify my cowardice.