I write because I don't know any other way of properly expressing myself. But only through pen and paper. It calms me down. It relaxes me and I don't know how, but it does and that's what's important. I release all of the stress and tension that I've bottled up. Maybe for years or maybe even just minutes.

It releases me, from all the hurt and anger I've felt towards others and myself. It makes me happy.
It frees my mind and documenting in a creative way makes me smile.

I don't just write because I'm in a horrible situation. But I also write when I'm happy or over joyed that I just cant contain the happiness inside me and emotions just burst on the paper. Because true happiness doesn't come around as often as I'd like it to. Unknowingly, I just write my heart out.

I also write, because I think no one would see my silly feelings. But I also write so if when the time comes that I'm brave enough to let everyone see what I've written, they'd learn something new. It may be about me, on how i feel or felt for someone or something, and maybe even learn something from what I've written and apply it in their own lives.

I hope that what I've written would make them feel that they aren't alone on anything. I hope they'd know that someone out there was like them, was like me.

I write in hopes that in my future, I could help people. Through what I've written. So they wouldn't suffer like I did.

You were my first.
My first in a non ****** way.
You were my first emotionally,
The first one I ever took seriously,
The first one that I've loved,
The first one to make me actually care.
The first one that made me cry about someone that really mattered to me.
The first one to ever see me as me,
The first one to accept me,
To care for me,
And to say that you loved me.

You were always the first.
Emotionally.
But, you lacked in showing me that you loved me.
You explained why.
You said that those times you couldn't talk to me, is because you cherished me.
You were in awe, that's why you were so silent.
You were in doubt that I loved you. Because in your head you kept on wondering how could such a beautiful girl with a wonderful soul could ever be with someone like you, a boy so fragile.

Well, my answer to that is simple.
It's because I love you.
Not because of your looks and what not.
But because I love you. As you. As a whole.
I loved you in a sense that I felt this warmth and content by just being near you.
I loved you by the way you were very cautious. In a good way.
I love you simply because it was you.

But, it's too late to say those things.
Because times change and feelings grow old and rot just like us mere mortals. But that's not true. Somehow, those feelings survive and will continue to survive. Still, it's too late. You've given me a reason to let go. You wanted me to. You were not aware that you wanted me to let go.
But how could I?


I love you..



No. I don't LOVE you..
I LOVED you...
I still have feelings for you, yes.
That will never change.
But I LOVED you.
You were in the past.
Yes, you were my first.
But you aren't my last...

It's hard..
Being trapped alone in a world of depression.
To be anxious all the time.
Not because of what other people will say about me.
But..
These demons in my head
They'll judge me,
Ruin me. Ruin everything.
But the comfort they bring,
The sweet lies they tell me.
Its so amazing.
They've wrapped my world and became my bubble of depression.
They've trapped me.

It's not their fault.
Well partly it is theirs.
But mostly,
I'm to blame.
I let them cover me in a warm blanket of lies and drown me in depression to the point that this depression is normal. Very comforting..
Yes..
But truly.. there's no mythical demons around me.
But instead,
Those demons covering me,
Is me.
My own thoughts.
My thoughts about a perfect future.
For him,
For me,
For us..
But there is no future.
There's no future at all...
With the girl that cant control her demons.

My fever for you has died down.

But oh i can't help it but blush when i remember your cocky smirks and flirty gestures.
The way you caressed me in the most gentle way and woo me with your smooth talks and loving features.
You knew exactly how to make a girl go crazy for you. That's why my fever for you has died down.
For good.

You had me convinced that if i left everything for you, you'd stay with me so i can fond over you and your physical traits. You made sure that i'd be safe and yet i was on the edge, hanging on for dear life. My fever for you was so high that it had blinded me for what i was and what i had become. I became the girl that nobody wanted to know but everybody wanted to have.

It was only then when i realized that your words and so called promises you've made that very intimate night was all lies. Lies that were already on the surface but i was too blinded to see it. All because of my fever for you.

You were and are and forever will be that drug, that beautiful face that siren like beauty that drew me in to the water because you morphed into what i wanted to see and dragged me down and drowned me until i thought i could've breathed under water just to stay with you and lie next you.

But, that was all in my head. All because of my stupid fever for you.
Im very happy that it had died down. For good.

Oh! Mr. Best, you're very bad
And all the world shall know it;
Your base behaviour shall be sung
By me, a tunefull Poet. —
You used to go to Harrowgate
Each summer as it came,
And why I pray should you refuse
To go this year the same? —

The way's as plain, the road's as smooth,
The Posting not increased;
You're scarcely stouter than you were,
Not younger Sir at least. —

If e'er the waters were of use
Why now their use forego?
You may not live another year,
All's mortal here below.—

It is your duty Mr Best
To give your health repair.
Vain else your Richard's pills will be,
And vain your Consort's care.

But yet a nobler Duty calls
You now towards the North.
Arise ennobled—as Escort
Of Martha Lloyd stand forth.

She wants your aid—she honours you
With a distinguished call.
Stand forth to be the friend of her
Who is the friend of all.—

Take her, and wonder at your luck,
In having such a Trust.
Her converse sensible and sweet
Will banish heat and dust.—

So short she'll make the journey seem
You'll bid the Chaise stand still.
T'will be like driving at full speed
From Newb'ry to Speen hill.—

Convey her safe to Morton's wife
And I'll forget the past,
And write some verses in your praise
As finely and as fast.

But if you still refuse to go
I'll never let your rest,
Buy haunt you with reproachful song
Oh! wicked Mr. Best! —