facepalm

i'm slamming my head against the doors and walls and windows in my mind, throwing tantrums and kicking ash shelves. why do i ask you to understand me when i don't even understand myself? do i lie to myself everyday, saying i know things about myself i honestly don't? i don't want to be trapped in a box, in my head, with no extremes and zombie emotions, i'm scared to death not to feel, because it's the only thing i'm good at. what else am i supposed to do for this, wait, wait, wait until all my thoughts can be chased away, wait, wait, wait until i go to bed with intentions of waking up, wait, wait, wait until i can have a little faith in myself, wait, wait, fucking wait, until i can forgive and forget about the things you did to me when i was little. wait. wait. wait.