ks-julianne
profile of a religious, pretentious girl that writes at three a.m. when insomnia decides to grace it's presence. has permanent bags under her eyes and year-old scars in her forearms that she refuses to create ever again. / / she believes there are more productive ways to harm herself. / / http://www.wattpad.com/user/xmirror
*"It's not that I didn't love her-- I think I never stopped, to be quite honest. We just grew. Circumstances develop, grow differently and change; and so do people. The problem was when the two started growing in different directions. My emotions were set, my heart, my mind, even my body was set, she was set, the stage in my life was set, but the circumstances weren't. There's really nothing else to it. I love her, but there's no use trying to redirect the path of a tree that has already grown. There's nothing for us to go back to. All that's left is for me to keep growing away and forget about her.
But you know I won't, don't you?"*
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
"If you were drunk, locked in a room with everyone you ever loved, whose arms would you fall into?"
I'd reply that I'm too weak to lie so I'd merely fall to the floor,
whether room hollow or crowded
mocking me from how
I let myself care
so much
or so
little.
But
think again;
if I were ever locked in a room
with everyone I ever cared about,
I haven't got the slightest idea about who'd reside.
And for some reason, I can't help but do what I do most,
Wonder and overanalyze and ask myself: Would you be there?
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
jump, just once,
as you once dared me.
i dare you.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
twitch, tap, raddda-dap-tap,
tap any harder and your fingers will snap.
twitch, tap, badda-dap-bam,
i smiled and did the same.
going along to a tune only you could only hear,
a snap and a clack resounded off-time
around the multiple rooms with a clang,
a consistent beating in a room of laughter.
and you never even noticed how you never stopped,
drumming, twitch, rad-dda-dap-tap.
and because i could not get that
**** song out of my head too,
i tapped along with you,
wishing for something more.
boom, clap, radda-dap-clap,
feel any more and my heart'll snap.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 10:41 PM UTC
a n d
i
w o n d e r . . .
why
is it
that
i'm
never
e n o u g h ?
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
the rain pours outside, and i become compelled to
pour my own self into a ****** poem that won't cover half.
pour my own self into a ****** poem that won't cover at all.
the rain pounds outside, and i become compelled to
cower into a corner and pound against my walls that don't budge.
cower into a corner and pound against the wall with my ribs.
the rain thunders outside, and i become compelled to
thunder my way into what i think i deserve that isn't even half,
thunder my way into what i think i deserve that becomes even less.
the rain is lighting outside, and i become compelled to
be lighting and light my way through rotten magnets that easily budge,
be lighting and light my way through rotten cement that won't give.
the rain intensifies outside, and i become compelled to
twist a beating ***** until i can intensify whatever's left to feel,
twist a beating ***** until i can intensity whatever is not.
the rain dies outside, and i become compelled to die.
die into a fine mist that'll leave a mark on everyone,
die in such a fine way that i'll be able to breathe again.
the rain pours outside, and i drown.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
He mistakes my name, and then, "Well, you'll come around..."
Strange as it seems, I'm bursting at the seams
With a suitcase full of nothing to be seen
Airports, shutters and a shoulder to no longer lean
And he says, "Oh, I've got a woman now..."
My wallet photos no longer sum me up
And I've already come around
And tiny star-studded jeans hold every broken dream
And through the failed wishes in between, a sung
"Oh, I've got a woman now..."
For I'm no longer little Eileen,
and I've grown a lonely need
For I'm no longer anything to see;
All but worthy to be deemed, yet a cry resounds;
"Oh, I've got a woman now..."
And it's all tasted the same,
And I never expected it to change
"Girl, out there when they're selling dreams...
**** this is harder than it seems.
Oh, where did my girl go now?
Oh, I've got a woman now..."
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
Because it's not worth it, it never was and it never will be, because life is pointless and it's nothing more than a punishment for all you've been and all you will be if you don't stop this madness now, because you, you, you are--
Yet I look at a blooming flower twice,
hear the rain pouring outside,
see the wrinkles of our earth,
and wonder if it would be wise to believe for sorrow's end.
Yet I look at a rotten face twice,
hear the last beats of a heart,
see the wrinkles in our very being,
and wonder if we somehow managed to reach the end.
Yet I look at a smiling face twice,
hear the ****** of children's laughter,
see the wrinkles of elder's stories,
and wonder how we've managed to reach both ends.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
Sitting semi-sola on the cornerstone,
Next to unknown; destination: another home.
And in a moment of a day not so dreary with cofidence to loan,
I'd ask them to take me with them to not feel so alone.
But I didn't have happiness to borrow or loan,
So I sat still and quiet against the cornerstone.
I watched them ride away, feeling completely alone,
Watching them silently as they made their way home.
And in another moment where I had something to loan
Other than dreadfulness at the self-ignited idea of being alone
I'd ask them to take me to another cornerstone,
***** and dusty, but nevertheless a true home.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
Crooked paintings of sobbing angels pointed hellward, towards the earth
and the heat and all we deserve. And none of the mortals noticed them
weeping, noticed them writhing, noticed them falling, towards the
depths of a ***** soul, and they fell and never stopped doing so.
Yet as they let a wicked gravity pull their calloused feet, they
still believed they were on their way to wrong, leaving their
home. Of course, this makes sense, since the cruelest fae
and most twisted demons were always the one to
believe themselves holy. And so is told the tale;
Seven sins split hellward, going where they belonged: among humans.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 9:37 PM UTC