rough writer

I wish i was a writer. i could express on pages available to me. scraps of old papers, reciepts,anything within reach. And as i feel, all these emotions seep out of me. Tears that drop exceedingly. persistant on my note pad, creating intricate patterns across the words i dare not speak aloud for fear of complete infatuation with myself. Eeven in a depressive state im so full of myself. Overwhelmed with the fear of failing myself, consumed with daydreams that exist only in fairytales, daring them to be my reality. Screaming " Be my reality". take me away from this reality. why is it so hard to bare? constantly enduring this existance. focusing on all that holds no substance. All that people dedicate their lives to. when all we are meant to live for gets ignored. could never fathom living for such mediocre standards; and really whats it all about? living to love, share, progress, and care for another, i dare another to give a f*$%k about me, when i dont even give an f*$%k about me. cuz im sitting here in this misery, not clawing my way out from the bottom cuz up is all i got. how dare i sit n my own shi%$ and got the nerve to cringe at anothers bull. pushing back anothers pull. not striving to thrive and keep all that i am alive and well. excel in all im able. apply myself in all im capable. fully focused im frontin on me, acting like i dont got the tendency, to be the best that i can be and then some. step my game up and claim some higher standard of life. produce it, to carry on a legacy....-Shannel M.H