Collection of strung on words

a wannabe poets 2am thoughts.

I want to pour my thoughts onto paper, and I want to write out my feelings and make it sound beautiful and deeply touching. It is just that my own feelings don't work that way. They are not these complex thoughts that make me wonder about the ends and out of life. I get jealous of the authors who can write such beautiful pieces about love and pain and happiness. But whenever I lift a pencil it just becomes so difficult. I don't know why. Mean I guess it is because I don't know how to write what is on my mind in a way someone else could understand. Or how my underlying thoughts seem to take over last minute about how nobody will care to read this. Why bother? I should probarlly stop thinking like this but its at a point I just dont know. I doubt so many things all the time now. I miss things from before and I am in a constant state of wanting to be at the top but interially wanting to put towards the effort. I don't care to correct grammar or spelling I feel as if I am finally starting to open up. I guess i dont know.
I want to get so angry at myself. So angry but I don't. I don't even care to anymore. I feel as if I have lost my reason to care on a lot of things. 
No need to worry about me though Im just sitting here typing listening to shitty pop music because for some reason I clicked the wrong station on pandora and I just don't care enough to change it. Its weird that I don't want to be depressed but I just cant bring myself to change that. 
I am just going to leave it at this. I got nothing else to say, or talk about. I guess this is justmy thoughts. I don't even know how i ended up here. and i highly doubt this is at all beautiful.