The Sponge
The sponge soaks in every mess around it. It just gets more and more full, taking in all kinds of burdens. It can't get rid of any of its burdens, because as soon as it tries to push some of it out, it just falls back into a different pore, rejoining the other burdens. The only release for the sponge is to do a full wring of itself, draining itself. I am the sponge.

I hate being the nice guy. Every favor, despite the adversity to my own well being, I accept. I am not free of worry and stress, I have my own, yet I willingly allow others to throw theirs onto me as well. And even when they're not throwing their burdens, I take it upon myself to grab those burdens and heave them onto my back along with the rest. Everyone else's are on there, why not add yours? Why can't I just say no? Why are people compelled to walk on me because I'm nice? Its because they know I won't protest. I won't confront them. I just sit back, hold my tongue and twiddle my thumbs, pretending that everything is alright. Well, y'know what? Everything is not all right. You're killing me. Each footfall that drives me deeper into the earth, each burden that weakens my back, eventually it'll kill me. But I will never tell you this, I will never show this on my face. No, instead I'll put on a façade. A bright mask with a big smile on it, letting you know I'm happy and I'm here for you. Because I am. I am here for you. I am here for everyone. I am not here for myself. No, that'd be selfish. Shame on you, never put yourself before others. This makes you happy but it doesn't make them happy? Well fuck that, that can't be, you mustn't be happy at the cost of others! Now lie on the ground so I can use you to wipe the shit off my shoes. That's all you're good for anyway isn't it? You're not beautiful. You're not talented. You're not worth it. Be proud I chose you as my curb. Why are you so surprised? This is how you've lived your life for the past two decades, nothing is different. You're used to it. You accept it. I accept it....... I accept it.

Here's the part where I critisize this whole online journal nonsense. I've lain dormant because I view this journal as not a place to express how I feel about things but rather as a stage to entertain. I look for laughs, or "awwws" or reminiscence. I need an outlet, but its hard when I feel as if everyone is staring at me all at once. I need one on one time to expose, but this opens the doors to countless others. I go through this in my head daily, but clearly its not enough if its a daily occurrence. I needed to put this down, tear it off my chest. But please, as a favor I'm asking of you, don't ask me about this the next time we talk.

1 Bridges burned. | Light it.