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Sometimes I feel an overwhelming amount of hatred,
Sometimes I hate myself,
Sometimes I hate the people around me,
Sometimes I wake up and I wish I slept forever,
Sometimes I lose the urge to live,
Sometimes I merely exist,
Sometimes I feel sad,
Sometimes I feel angry,
But I hate it when I’m sad,
Sometimes I think bad thoughts,
Sometimes I feel sad,
But maybe it is okay,
Sometimes I don’t feel okay,
Maybe it is okay to not be okay,
Sometimes I want to cry,
Sometimes I want to disappear,
Sometimes I feel awful,
But maybe it is okay to be sad,
Maybe we all feel sad,
And just maybe it is okay.
Love.
The bittersweet thing that we all seem to crave,
The thing people swear they'd die for.
But is it worth it, for a feeling we do not understand?
The violent force that causes destruction and pain—
But yet it is so sweet, so gentle,
The force that doomed Romeo and Juliet to their death,
That made Mark Antony abandon his empire,
Chaotic, but sweet.
Do all deserve to be loved,
And can all be loved?
Beauty.
A word that holds strong meaning in the world of today,
but have you once thought, what is the true definition of the word?
has it occurred to you that beauty is only what we see in shows and magazines,
have you never thought to yourself what is beautiful and what is not,
and why do we give anyone the right to determine and define what beauty is,
why is the plump girl ugly and the slender one beautiful,
have you never thought that it is unfair,
we are all made in different ways,
some short some tall.
but why does the color of her eyes make her ugly?
why does his spots make him ugly?
And what exactly is 'ugly'?
what is beauty?
does beauty have to be the face and body alone,
how about the mind,
the heart,
why do we condemn the people who are said to be ugly?
and why do we praise the beautiful?
The definition of beauty would remain as it is,
a fog of opinion after opinion,
a mirror that has been covered with a black sheet,
the definition of beauty remains a mystery.
for beauty in the nineteenth century and beauty in the twentieth century cannot be compared.
The definition of beauty would continue to evolve,
and we would remain ignorant to its meaning, slaves to what we do not know,
Slaves to what we think we know but we do not know, and we cannot know.
Like a tree that bears the fruit we plant, beauty only has one definition, and it is the one we give it,
there would be people who want you to submit to their definition,
but the only definition that matters is the one you give it.
I wake up, but I do not feel awake.
I do not have the will to stand to think, move, or live.
and then I cry,
Oh GOD, oh God,
save me from myself and this world,
save me from everything cruel,
save me from myself and my thoughts,
For I do not feel like me,
I do not feel alive,
I am chained to my thoughts and emotions,
I do not have the will to live,
and I cry
oh God save me from me,
help me to heal,
help me find me,
help me find the me I used to know,
help me heal,
Save me from me.
I stare into the mirror, and I wonder,
'Who is the girl in the mirror?'
For this is not the girl who I used to know,
who moved so freely, who smiled and laughed and loved,
this is not the beautiful girl I used to know,
why has she been replaced with this girl,
this girl with no feelings,
this girl who cannot love or laugh or smile,
this girl with the world on her shoulders.
What has taken over the body of that peaceful girl, that free spirit,
and why has she been replaced with something so dark and secretive something so hollow and burdened,
Although she looks the same as her it is not her,
but it is her,
only a different version,
a version I do not recognize or understand.
Is this what growing feels like?
is growth not supposed to feel good,
does growth separate one from the world,
does growth make a person hatful,
does growth destroy one's heart,
does growth make one lose themself.
For it is the same girl and at the same time it is not her,
it is the same girl, but she is detached,
she holds the ropes of her sanity as the slip from her hands,
it is the same girl, but she is griped by fear and sorrow,
it is the same girl, but she no longer walks she floats through like a soul that has no body detached from the world and it's affairs.
Your eyes as bright as the moon in early December,
Your lips, pink as the roses in spring,
Your smile delightful and beautiful,
Your voice like music to my ears,
Your laughter a sweet and soft melody that makes me feel alive,
Your presence like the breeze that sweeps me off my feet,
Although perfection is a myth, I believed in it the moment I met you.
For never in all my years on this planet have I come across a person so perfect.
A mixture of beauty, brains, talent and character.
No man's presence has such effect on me,
No man's presence leaves me breathless.
It feels like an illusion, a dream.
Well, maybe that is all it truly is.
Those things that seem to swallow us whole,
Those things that seem to be everlasting,
Those things that seem to control us,
Those things that seem to consume us,
Like fire consuming everything and anything,
Those things that we dread,
Those things that seem to eat at our hearts,
Those things that seem to rot our insides,
Those things that we are too scared to speak of,
Those things they call feelings and emotions,
Those feelings like guilt.
Like sadness,
Like fear,
Those feelings that we do not want to feel,
Those feelings that we hate to feel,
Anxiety.
Those feelings that make us want to end things,
Depression
But those feelings shape us,
Those feelings make us stronger,
Those feelings make us who we are.
I know not everyone would be able to relate to this but to the people who can you are not alone. ✨🙃
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