I’m not indecisive, I just can’t decide.
Not on the clothes I wear or how I chose to style my hair.
It’s on the big things. The overwhelming, time consuming,
thoughtful things that make me feel more like me.
If it doesn’t make sense, I’m sorry, the word choice is a bit
spotty and I know soon when I look back and read it I’ll
disapprove, shake my head and try to repeat it. The way
I wanted it to be…because really I can’t ever seem to say
what I mean or why I mean it. It’s confusing and frustrating,
how fickle I can be over all of these things. So instead of
speaking my mind I sit in the corner with unassuming eyes.
I feel like writing should inspire but my words pop and fall
like a flat tire. And I’m tired. Tired of trying this and
changing that because my mind won’t settle down.
I’ve learned it’s better to stay quiet. There are so many
ideas in my head becoming thoughts like a snowball in an avalanche.
They get bigger and better and so exciting until the moment
the pen meets the paper and…nothing. Just a busted ball of disappointment,
snow flakes falling everywhere. My ideas scattered and it’s
impossible for me to pick one up and try to put it back together,
to stick with one idea that’s barely mediocre when there’s
the possibility of something else.
The change from this to that, everlasting.
Because I’m not indecisive, I just can’t decide.