Inner monologue

I have lost my audience, it seems
With no one to talk to, the inside of my head became a bit weird a place
I created a universe in there, borrowing a bit from books I like,
Making up the rest, so I have somewhere to go when daydreaming
-Too bad it's no help when I'm actually asleep
No use of having a vivid imagination
if your subconscious is pretty boring.-
So here I was, comfortably thinking that nothing from the real life
would inspire me any more
A pretty face came along and changed everything.

Everybody will judge you, at some point or another
For things you did or did not do
Isn't it better to not tell anyone anything?
But then you end up like me
Trying to disguise confessions as stories
And stories as memories.

A pretty face, yes, there we were
I have one of those, too, if you're wondering
And I find my own kind of pretty quite enticing
I have this awesome new haircut, you should see
Can't stop looking at it.
He does have this pretty face
And a narrow waist and long legs, too
I think my haircut must've conjured him into being.

I've taken to reading stories with strong female leads
Not that I identify more with them
All those badass chicks with their endless stamina and brass balls
Where do they get all that energy from?
But I'm doing my part to uphold the female pride, I guess
And usually there is a plethora of pretty men in there, too
Fuel for my imagination.

Sometimes I wonder who reads what I write
Except for the google crawler bots of course,
Little spiders going all over the place, cataloging everything in sight
I could code a spider for myself
And become a more efficient stalker than I already am
Learning all about what he likes and what he is like
What charming conversations would we have after that.

...

I've had this blog for about ten years now
A lot of things changed since when I first started
But looking back I can see
the one thing that is pretty much constant
Is the sources I get my inspiration from.