every now and then, i fall apart

overall this semester has taken it out of me. it's like i've been in two places at once, but really never being fully in either place. always rushing, always having something or some other place to be. never having the time to even talk on the phone to keep in touch with people, or time to write for that matter. i've lost touch with all who know me. and that, that makes me sad. but mostly dissappointed in myself. i'm so shy, so far from being a social warrior, that it takes time for people to get to know me. so why have i failed in keeping in touch, you would think that i would value those realationships enough to keep them up. i'm so tired of it, so tired of being shy and such a wallflower. but how does one go around changing such a big part of their personality? is it even possible? maybe for some people, but for me? i try to visualize it and it seems partically possible, but then i remind myself what i do do when faced with a room full of people i don't know and what i thought may be obtainable, no longer is.

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The answer came
Like a shot in the back
While you were running from your lesson
Which might explain
Why years later all you could remember
Was the terror of the question
Plus, you weren't listening
You were stockpiling canned goods
Making a bomb shelter of our basement
And i can't believe you let the moral go by
While you were soaking in the product placement

Where was your conscience?
Where was your consciousness?
And where did you put all those letters
That you wrote to yourself
But could not address?

There's a smorgasbord of unspoken poisons
A whole childhood of potions
That are all bottled up
And so one by one i am dusting off labels
I am uncorking bottles and filling up cups
So go ahead and have a taste of your own medicine
And i'll have a taste of mine
But first let's toast to the lists
That we hold in our fists
Of the things that we promise to do
Differently next time

Cuz the answer came like a shot in the back
While you were running from your lesson
Which might explain
Why years later all you could remember
Was the terror of the question
Plus i'm not listening to you anymore
My head is too sore and my heart's perforated
And i'm mired in the marrow of my (well... ain't that) funny bone
Learning how to be alone and devastated
Where was my conscience?
Where was my consciousness?
And what do i do with all these letters
That i wrote to myself
But cannot address?