False Intentions

It feels as if all the sincerity has left me. My work is no longer a product of honesty but something that has been forced out of me. I don’t want to be here. The days bleed into each other and my thoughts of accomplishment disappear, I don’t know what can possible be the point anymore. Where did all the genuine go? I know its still in here, it must be. College hasn’t changed me. Why is that? Shouldn’t that be the point? It’s hard to put the blame on myself, I don’t want to. I refuse to. But it’s entirely my own fault. Repetition. This is all the same. These thoughts are put on repeat and blasted through the speakers of my shiny MacBook. This is filer: I am going to do as they do in the movies. Showcase my personality through a lens, one of many I might add. I don’t feel the need to make myself more interesting to you. If I did this would have gone down differently. You expected for this to go down differently but I’m not going to apologize. The way I choose to do these things, with meaning that speaks in false irony, is my choice. You don’t know what that means. The structure is undeniable but not because I choose for it to be, it just comes out that way. Just looks at all the eyes, lets revert our thoughts to Rimbaud. I thought it was a style at first. I had finally found my niche. That’s not the case. It’s a cage I cannot release myself from. I don’t want your help. I don’t need it. This is my fault and I have come to except it in the hopes that sincerity will come back to me.