I have nothing to say anymore.
I refuse to dwell on what could've happened
And what did happen.
But now I have nothing to look forward to.

My days have become a routine, a chore.
Most days I wish to do nothing more then just lay in bed and sulk.
The things I used to love to do,
No longer do so.

I'm tired.
A kind of tired that can't be fixed by sleep.

blunt: adjective
1.
(of a knife, pencil, etc.) having a worn-down edge or point; not sharp.
having a flat or rounded end.

2.
(of a person or remark) uncompromisingly forthright.
----------------------
Today, my mom called me blunt.
And I have to admit that it's true
My thoughts and words are blunt and can hit you like a rock

But,
I realized I am also blunt.
I was once quick and sharp,
Ready to take on the world and fight
Fight like hell
Yet now, I can't

My mind isn't as strong- willed as it used to be
My body isn't as tough as it used to be
They're tired of fighting
I'm tired of fighting
Years of seeing horror and death,
You become used to it
Years of fighting,
You get too battered to stand up once more and fight.
I've become blunt and unbelievably tired.
Maybe.
I should...
Just....
Rest.........

I want to say "I love you"
But I settle for "Goodnight and sweet dreams"
Because loving means falling
And I have a fear of heights.

We held each other so tight,
Hoping in vain
That if we held tight enough
We wouldn't have to leave each other.

Everything came rushing in,
Banging open doors
And showing us all that we forgot
Reminding us why we came together
Why we were.

And now the aching is surreal,
Hard and constant,
Gnawing insides out.
Different from the way I missed him,
This ache is a dear longing for
The smiles all of you put on my face,
The help you always gave me,
My support team.

Thank you for everything.
But I can't say goodbye,
Not now when we've only just go to know each other through and through.

It's
I'll see you later,
And
Good luck with Rajiv ;3

maybe love is to watch a thousand winters pass, and still stand by his side because you know he's made of spring

This maelstrom is ******* me in. No chance of rescue. No second life. I am torn between wanting to fight and needing to let go. I can feel your phantom fingers hefting me upward, toward the blinding light. Then, I am yanked down to the sweet abyss of unfeeling. Both promise of everlasting silence; one that can never be broken by humans. I am cleaved in two; these forces wage war over my limp body.

     It's nice to know that something would fight for you even though humanity has given up hope. I should let go, be one with the supernatural.  But which should I choose? I really need to let - NO! I don't want to be fought over by forces I can't even begin to imagine. I still want solid hands to touch me. I want the natural warmth that a body emits. I want to feel sturdy bones beneath my fingers and physical contact with the owners of these phantom fingers.
    
     I won't let anyone decide for me. I won't die without a fight. I'll claw and scrape at everything for my survival. I'll even clip you in the head should you have ill intentions. No, I will fight till my end. And maybe, just maybe, I'll die with a smirk on my face and with fingertips hiding scraped flesh and blood beneath.

A chrysalis hangs precariously on this ledge between us. Spun with our delicate emotions, hardened by our greatest horrors. Slowly unwinding from its tight form. The loose end. Tugged by the people surrounding us, bitten and chewed upon by the situation we are in. This feeling; inexplicable, disastrous. We are shadowed by our ignorance and indifference.

     The life within that chrysalis, an innocent in a world full of blood and gore. Still developing, sensing the poisonous intentions of its fellow species. Hesitating, delaying its arrival. A victim in a vicious world.

     Its outermost covering gone now. Protective layer or not. It fights. It hangs on the last thread of hope; hope that would soon prove futile.

I am a flea gorged on your blood.
       A pest you could never get rid of.
I am a constant itch on your body,
       one that never goes away.
I am a craving that could
       never be satisfied.
I want to be
       the salutation in your love letter.
I need to be a problem
       you can’t solve.
I desire for you to see me.
      With holes in my body and cracks in my interior.
I hope you’ll reach for me
       with your fingers spread.
I fancy your lips on my forehead
       tonight.

I should do my HW.
But you still haven't responded,
What if you do while I'm gone and I can't reply?
Then you'll think you aren't important enough to respond to.
I guess I can hold off on it for a little longer.
Looove meeeeeee.
Gawd I'm stupid for liking you.
But the way you laugh,
The way you talk,
The way you simply live.
(Dying whale noises)
God you're perfect in the most imperfect way.

A single rain drop landed just beneath my eye.

It was as if nature was giving me the tear.

That it knew I couldn't shed in front of him.