The message I'll never really send...

If you read my stuff often enough... you've already grasp the concept that while I say a lot, I don't say much at all.
This also holds true to my conversations in real life. I have the tendency to express incomplete sentiments. To expect people to complete my sentences.
I don't always fully say what I mean, or mean what I say.
Basically, I'm a mess of sorts...
Sooo... I'm about to write a message I'll likely never send... or even post...
----

Dear....

You might be wondering why the outburst...again.
Why I make rash sporadic decisions at times... 
Why I say one thing, then do another.
Why some days I'm ok, and others I'm not.

You see, I wear my heart on my sleeve while it's wrapped in chains, weighing my arm down making me unable to embrace you. 

You see, I'm dramatic in the purest of forms, I react without thinking because it comes straight from the soul... I take it all back because logic trumps over emotion... Always...

I lie a lot...

Not sure if more for myself or others... My ability to act like I'm unphased & ok... Is oscar worthy... 

Until the act consumes me... Until I'm unaware of what I really feel VS what I'm saying I don't... 

Until the scene gets too chaotic,  that not even I can hide it's effects on me...  

I love easily... But only silently... Because I've learned that true emotion only comes in forms of tears & not kisses...

I overreact... Because being normal isn't normal to me...

Because to know the immensity of my heart can only be shown in big forms...all while not showing anything at all...

I contradict myself...because some moments I know exactly what I want & others I know exactly what I need...

Then some times... I don't want neither... 

I'm unsure... Not entirely sure what I truly desire... Not entirely sure what's right for me... 

All I know... Is that it hurts again... My inability to say all the things I truly felt & only the ones I didn't... My ability to only show the things I shouldn't & hide all the things that should be shown... 

I hate the raw feeling of exposure, but every time my heart gets out... It feels like freedom... Vurnable unbearable, freedom... 

I don't make sense... Again

Guess this letter keeps getting written, time & time again...

What I'm really saying with all the things i haven't said... Is that I cared too much, more than I ever showed... 

Xoxo 

Signs me, Eliz.