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I don't understand why I am so caught up
In wanting go be pretty
You can BUY pretty
It comes in pretty bottles
Scented cream-form
Sealable powder containers
And tube mixed with glitter
A beautiful soul
Cannot be bought
But a kind-of-ish guy friend
Told me I was pretty today
I think he was just being kind though
And I wouldn't be interested anyway
Then earlier today
Some random grade 2 kids
Yelled at me
As I was walking out the door:
You're hot
Great so five seven year old boys
Think I'm hot
I don't think that counts
In fact it probably means im extra ugly
'Cause you can't trust a grade 2's taste
But that's not my problem
My problem is
Beauty is aways
What girls are complimented on
When it is so common
It has a price tag.
What has our society descended to
When "pretty" is the goal
Idk, what do people think? Does a seven year old thinking I'm hot actually mean im extra ugly? Lol it was kinda funny though. Getting catcalled by someone who is up to my hips in height. Haha
Last night
I drowned my cheeks
In the tears
Of my eyes

Looking back
I treated you
Like no human
Deserves to be treated
I'm sorry

You get upset with me
When I try to apologize
But that's all I know how to say
Because you deserve
At least one "I'm sorry"

We talked every day
For a while
Now
Oh, now
It's hardly two messages
Per week

I'm trying my hardest
To be okay with this
To be okay with not seeing
Those messages again

There were about 350
Over the course of a little less
Than a year
Most of them are gone
Lost
Forever

I thought I would be letting go
Of the part of my past
That revolved around you
But rereading the messages
Probably made things
A whole lot worse

You're a great person
I'm sorry I couldn't have acted
More like you needed me to
I was weak
You needed to be strong
For me

I didn't treat you fairly
I relied too much on you
And didn't offer my help
Often enough
I'm sorry
In all aspects of being loved, there are various imperfections or mistakes able to make.
Along with these aspects comes trust. Trust isn't an object, nor an emotion.. trust is a natural instinct. From the day we are delivered in our pink or blue blankets; we cannot be taught the right way to trust a person, we can only learn from one on one living confrontations. For example, if you or I chose right now to trust that lonely forgotten homeless man on the side of the street, that is our decision.... nothing but the mistreatment of my trust can show me different.
My story,
Do I have one?
Of course I do, everyone does.
Some are harsher and crueler
Some are nice and happer
Many are a mix of cruel and happy
And as for me, I have one too
It's sad and happy, a bit of both.
My story.
It starts in the beginning
And ends at the end
It's quirky and troubled
Sunny and long.
But it's also shorter than many
I've lived much in my
Fifteen(almost sixteen) years of life
Not as much as others
But my tapestry is tightly woven
My story
Is a story of
Pain and laughter
Love and indifference
And it is still being written.
Inspired by a poem by a friend
There was once a pure white rose,
That grew more thorns.
For she had known the true intentions,
Of every delightful word.

"You're so beautiful"
But that's not what you really meant,
Now is it?
He buttered her up,
Until he got what he wanted.

He used her up,
And got bored.
So he left the little rose,
The way it never was before.

For seeing what he did to her,
She never trusted anyone.
So the thorns kept growing,
Until no one was left.

She drove everyone away,
Only to grief the part of her that she lost,
And the boy that she once loved.

20 years later,
She's still the same way.
Lonely, broken,
And can't be fixed.

The damage is done,
No one can save her.
Not even the one that hurt her in the first place...
Understand the commitment you make when you say "I love you", it could end up hurting someone you don't want to hurt.
Tell me a story.
Make it long.
Let me lean against your legs.
Let me close my eyes and
Imagine drowning in the words you say.
Let me breathe in your words.
Let them become a part of me.
Tell me a story.
About you and me.
Forget about the bad parts,
The fighting and the crying.
Stuff it full of love and laughter.
Make me smile.
Make me laugh.
Tell me a story.
Let me fall asleep in your arms.
Tell me a story.
Tell me a story.
Do you remember that little girl with the big, brown eyes and a bright future?
She was adventurous, and full of innocence.
What happened to her?
You ****** her up.
She, herself, doesn't know how to find her.
Living in fear and regret; lost, forever in her own confused mind.
Do you remember me?
I remember you with perfect clarity.
maybe i wanted you to leave
maybe i wanted you to go
maybe it's true i pushed you away,
it's only because i know,
no one ever stays

maybe i liked you a lot
maybe i could have learned to love
maybe your smile filled my world
and the sound of your voice
it made my toes curl

maybe you are just really busy
maybe you're just a little distant
maybe i wish that you knew
about all the things i thought
and i felt for you.
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