2B Left Unfinished

I am a mess of things left undone,

broken parts with no time left to put them back together.

To write and draw things I have left unsaid,

because sometimes things unfinished are not unimportant.

(please so message me if you see a mistake in something I have written, I often make mistakes)
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I could not cry over something I never had, but I could cry over something I almost did

I was never the most happy person

I think I may have always known that I was never going to be 100% happy with anything in life 

Things just get harder and I can’t seem to find my way out of this hole I was born into

social skills never developed in me, even whilst I them bloom from others throats like flowers in May.  

I say I to much,

In an effort to only talk about the things I know, which is myself.

I want to stand alone of a beach during a rain storm.

The dark clouds, rain, wet sand, rough waves rippled by rain.

Most of all the smells and over all feeling

Could close my eyes and breath in the strong fresh smell.

unless you have a way to leave it is often very hard to leave.

So few can just pack up and leave.

I stand and make my way over to the window on the far side of the room, pulling it open a cool early spring breeze makes its way into my room.

I can smell the season in it and feel it on my skin making me excited yet relaxed.

Sitting back down upon the floor and pulling out a ratty old book; I lean back and sigh sadly as my emotions run wild from the memories that accompany the season in this dim room only lit by the setting sun.

Emit woke up to the sound of rain tapping on the wooden roof, the wooden cottage gave of a musty oak smell that added to the warm feeling of the dim lit room. Cast iron pans hung above the gently crackling fire place that was made of odd shaped rough stones, the area rugs were red and gold now were warn out, parchment paper strewn over most of the large oak table. 

Getting up slowly from the large overly soft bed and rubbing the sleep from his eyes to look around, proceeding to grab his coat and book from the end table. Walking past the kitchen he shuffled through the fridge and grabbed an apple.

Putting his large black boots on Emit slow opened the heavy door, pushing out into the autumn breeze that carried the smell of wet dying leaves into his nose. The air was old and wet, the fog thick making the thick bright orange and red woods harder to see. Leaves crunches lightly under his feet as he walked, rain drops dripping down his young face as he walked steadily towards a large wooden chair that was under a small tent of tree bark and leaves, looking out upon a small crystal blue lake. 

Somethings are that type of dull aching emotional pain that makes you just want to scream and cry 

but it won’t go away and it rips you apart to the point where feeling something other than the aching is a relief

Just want to smash things and go crazy destroying things

including yourself

I was left unfinished. Since the day I was born my heart had never felt like I could completely love anything.

I am not broken, I am unfinished. Waiting for someone who wants to create rather then fix.

Not empty, non-existent. Like a hole in my chest making me feel transparent.

This is now what he thought about when he heard warm and tender but then again this wasn’t normally the context they were talked about in. He continued to prod at the healing cut on his upper arm.