Way Back When-sday!

Ever since I was young, I have always been into writing stories, poetry, and whatever else pops in my head.
At around 12 or 13 I started keeping a journal/diary. At many points, I'd find a new one I liked better and transfer all my writings. I still do this all the time. Tom has known for years now, if I am having trouble talking to him and seem distant or distracted to look for my journal.

For this week's Way Back When-sday, I have compiled a small group of little bits I have wrote over the past 10 years.

-As long as we are together there will always be yesterdays and tomorrows.
Yesterdays are too many to count.
Tomorrows, there will never be enough.
But as long as we have each other there will always be today.



-Wondering what was lost;
considering all that was done.
Is it all going to get better soon?
Will I ever change my ways?


-I don't know what to say,
I don't know what to do,
I need to get over it.
I need to move on.

-What did I do wrong?
Was it what I did?
Did that become the reason for this?
Did this become the reason I am me?

 -Love?
What is love? Is it waiting? Is it living?
Is it happiness? Is it friendship? Is it laughter?
Is it confort? Is it a feeling withing itself? A declaration of oneself to another?
What is love?
Love is in the heart. Love is something that is incapable of being described.
Love is everything, from happiness to sadnees, from laughter to pain.
Love can be seen, can be heard, can touched, smelled and tasted.
Love is everything.

-Stuck in a small place;
Incapable of being seen.
Enjoys being alone;
With no place to go.

-Why does he love me?
Is there anything good to be seen?
Is there something hidden deep inside?
Is it he that can only find
the real me I try to hide?

 -He always tries his hardest and puts in his all;
but she wants more.
He works his hardest for every little bit he gives;
but she wants more.
He always puts everything he has-plus some;
but she always wants more..

-Trapped in a small place,

Alone in the world,
Lost.
Going silently.
No-one notices.
Slowly disappearing.
Gone.

-Yesterday was this, today is that.
The confusion and sorrow is all bothered.
Which is wrong, who is right?
Is it he? Is it I?
Who knows? I don't.

-Am I really as little as it seems?
Am I really nothing?

-As I wake I wonder if he is too.
As I fall asleep I wonder if he is too.
As I sit and think of him I wonder is he thinking of me too?

-You look at me constantly.

What do you see?
The inner me?
The scared little girl?
Hiding beneath nothing much?