Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Update: I've got to update my life.

Topic: Toxic people I used to hold dear are no longer in sight .

Reason: Him. me and my strength.

I turned a year older and I am still not sure were i'm going. I'm really trying to just... be. I'm simply a human being.

I will never understand how sunflowers will grow though the toughest places, or how I became so lucky as to see him grow, in a town like mine.

I will never understand a lot, But if I did what would be the point.

Maybe i'll find it one day but for now , early sunsets and the sweaty palms I get with him is just enough.
All along I hid my face, my arms, my thighs and all too well my gut.
Because in this modern day,
The bigger your gut was the
Less You're able to still enjoy yourself. Let alone another human being.

From grade five
The girls learn that boys
Only like the pretty things in life.
Pretty eyes, pretty nose, pretty hair, and pretty smiles.

In grade six
Girls pick up sticks and stones while they break their bones all for a sense of acceptance of a few classmates.

In grade seven
When they tell you your pretty "isn't pretty enough"
You learn how to hide.

In grade eighth
You tuck in your gut, you fake a smile, and continue to glare at the girls
Who just always seem to get the time of day.
When you go home and stare into the mirror and start to count. You count for the days to come , were your smile is just right. Your clothes seem to fall perfectly. When the cute guy saves you a seat.
You count and wait to be perfect.

But the thing about perfection is
No body is.

it's taken me this long

Grade twelve.

To figure that out.
I used to hate myself but now I'm just finding out that it's alright to not be alright.
Is it considered lieing if I only said I was tired?
I also said I was going to be going to bed sooner because today, well today was okay but inside it wasnt.
if I said goodnight, does that mean I'm having one ?  see my love life will continue to be. one. great. I said.
when I am writing I want to tell a story. sometimes thoses stories are not what the mind wants to read. but I want the heart to be forced to feel.
paramed­ic 1: "young girl age 17, fought out to be, way more then she was meant to be"
  silence fills the ambulance
paramedic 2: "has a few open wounds around the eyes, mouth and even missing a tooth"
  the girl moves her finger
paramedic 1: "it's a sign"
paramedic 2: "yeah she's breathing but that doesn't mean she's alive, you can tell by her eyes. she has lost her sparkel".
paramedic 1: "she must have been here before cause she's fighting, even when she's already gone....she's still trying".
Why cant people come with warning labels, because i have met some of the most intoxicating people.
I wish I knew the dose I needed to take in of them, in order to be considered healty.
because I ended up over dosing on attachment and false hopes. I saw them as my pills. pills that were given to me to take those bad days...and just push them far away. the good ones where shaped as love but when they went down I tasted lust.
the after taste was worse. because it gives you enough time to were the one who held them up. let them in without going over the side-effects.
I understand I've been gone, I've put a pause in a sense.
But no sense in this one. See I've been sitting too close to my television set recently,
I've contemplated whether or not I'll presume to continue this childish state of mind or if I'm losing vision. When I think of loosing anything, I think of age. With age you lose time. With time comes limits and I'm not sure if my ego ,or the lack of that , may let me presume to keep this comfort. Not mentioning that adult hood is more of a recreation at my disposal,
Yes. A disposal. Maybe the lack of conservation of my childhood led me to believe this. But still I am well aware of my lack of sight. I'm loosing that bigger picture maybe the movers hung it somewhere in the attic when placing me here. Maybe the intricate paintings and statues have the hidden message somewhere in the font.
January was the first of many months.
February is the second time I realized that when
March rolled around that you wouldn't be there in
April to hold me.
May wasn't any better because,
June came too quickly.
July came in with fireworks but all I got was burns from the sparks.
August days were spent picking up grains of sand hoping in
September would be different.
October I carved a smile on me instead of the pumpkins but
November the scar started to show.
December. I made it thought another year alone.
I'll get through next year too.
Next page