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746 · Oct 2018
Know what I mean?
Haley Oct 2018
You know what I mean?
It's that feeling you get when you observe something. It's slightly sad not to be a part of it, but still, there's an appreciation that it exists at all - that regardless of your absence, something beautiful continues on. And then you kind of think about how melancholic that is, but you don't really care enough to feel anything. You certainly don't care enough to change it.

You know what I mean?
It's like when you stay up all night, dedicated to the suffering caused by. homework that you already know you're never going to understand, anyways. Then the morning comes only an hour after your eyes have finally shut, just to wake you up to an exam you don't really have a hope of passing. At first- yeah, its heavy - it *****. But then again, why care? You can't do well, so instead you just don't give a sh*t. That way the weight's lifted. And yeah, everything feels kinda hollow, but that's better right?

I know that you know what I mean when I describe what it feels like to be drowning in the continual need to breathe.
You know what I mean when I describe what it feels like to wake up tired because your soul is constantly fighting off the cancer that is your own mind.
You know what I mean when I say that it's all too much.

So no, don't tell me again how much you understand. Don't tell me that you get it. It's different for everyone, so stop trying to feel the same way. I already see that you've felt it in your own way. I can see that you know what I mean.
I wrote this for my little brother, but I hope it helps you too.
715 · Oct 2018
Fridge Poetry 2
Haley Oct 2018
She was a Storm;
a whisper of beauty
and a symphony of light.
344 · Oct 2018
Reckless Spenders
Haley Oct 2018
Time is a commodity, too.
We spend it recklessly on social media and snooze buttons,
constantly digging a rut of debt with our inattentive minds.

We trade so much for our each and every paycheck,
yet we don't flinch at the loss of minutes on a pocket watch,
so don't ask me where this world has gone.
241 · Oct 2018
Fridge Poetry 1
Haley Oct 2018
Pictures manipulate a delicate eternity
We live less like dreams after red winter love
always behind the vision of summer
Never after the gone day flood

— The End —