I had words for you.

I had words for you - as opposed to having words with you - ... well, I suppose it doesn't matter.

You don't know me.

I struggled with that. Maybe because I wanted you to know me, so much. I wanted myself mirrored in you. I wanted to get to know some little things, only distinguishable from up close. I wanted. But that's done, almost done, almost over with. I try not to be pathethic - you're not the only one I ever think of - I try to be honest with myself, as well. It didn't matter what I wanted, in any case.

But this, this remained. You don't know me. You've never seen me in the dancing daze - only caricatures within parodies of music. You've never seen me forget myself. You've never heard me singing, in a single moment, when I'm suspended in the all-powerful.

You've never seen this, and yet I allowed you to judge me - as if those judgements were valid. Oh, they were - I would never deny you the right to a perspective. But I paid attention to them as well, because I wanted to matter so badly... and that, that was a mistake. It was so easy to take judgements as expectations. So effortless to me. Too easy.

The path of too easy is there. Too easy usually only makes it more difficult later.

For some reason, I take the too easy path all to often. And that part has nothing to do with you. It just is. But I had words for you, only you don't need them. They're about me, and for me, no one else. There is no one else.