girl.

my brow is growing old of its too familiar furrow. the aches are becoming somewhat of a habit and i think my physician would classify this as an unhealthy addiction of gray clouds and sweat pants. but what am i to do? it isn't like i can pull magic powers from the pocket across my loud stomach in my hoodie and change my very DNA. its unheard of, unfortunately. i'm only me. mortal as you - i can't change it. so i am finding my unstable smile and frown forced to deal with it. i believe they call it reality. living. whatever. it wouldn't be so difficult if i didn't have someone who cared more about myself that i do. (he is ever so wonderful). i almost hate watching him watch me as i writhe inside myself but paste a faulty smile on my pink lips. he knows. he sees right through any action that isn't me. he understands its part of me, but i can easily decipher him. deep in his big heart, he wishes he could take it from me. steal my burden and my cramping muscle. he wants me to be at peace. but thats only what magnificently happens in fairy-tales. like i said, this is reality. its real life. no fairy godmothers, here. what a drag. the worst part about it is as i waste away on this leather couch snuggled in turquoise heaven, my mood attacks his. he becomes as sallow as i am. his feet drag behind mine and his smiles become limited. all i can bear to think as i watch the dark gloom take him over is: thats my fault. all he deserves is to be happy and i've ridden him of his right. how dare i? so i furrow my brow, again. there should be a way to fix this. but i can't find it. maybe tomorrow evening i'll find the light ground and can mend my broken atmosphere.