Get over me,
because I'm not worth it.

I'm not worth it,
because I broke your heart,
because I feel so bad about it,
because it's been 5 months,
because I can't accept myself.

You should get over it,
because I'm not the best person you'll meet,
because you're only 15,
because life must go on,
because lamenting won't get me back,
BECAUSE IT'S BEEN 5 MONTHS.

Life wont stop revolving,
even if your world feels like it has.

I honestly hate myself as a whole. everything I’m made up of. I hate the fact that I let people influence me so ******* much. how they say “oh you should listen to this because I like it.” or “you should do this thing because I enjoy this thing.” it drives me insane. I’m such a people pleaser. I rely on what other people think of me. maybe they would like me more if I was more like them. why does it seem like I am a mosaic solely made up of a bunch of different people? When I was a six year old little girl why couldn’t I have chosen to be my own self instead of following all the other little boys and girls around mimicking them, watching what they did, like a was some sort of robot programmed to learn their ways and fit in. Along with being a people pleaser I hold a lot of things in. I’m always making sure everyone else is okay. Putting others before myself has always been something I’ve done. I enjoy it though because it makes me feel accomplished. I just want to be… perfect. beyond perfect. The athletic, brilliant. stunning, skinny, flawless girl. From striving to be this person that I’m absolutely not, the person that nobody is, I have developed…things. While people notice my never ending battle to be faultless, they say,” why do you do this? no one is perfect you need to accept that.” I think in my mind,” really? you think that I don’t know that? you think that I want to be some control freak that needs everyone’s approval to survive?” All I honestly want is peace. Peace and to be myself. But how am I  supposed to be myself whenever I never was myself? How am I supposed to just drop everything I know? like I’m sorry that I’m so determined to make everyone around make happy whether I know them or not, whether they care or not. Does anyone understand me? Its truly a tragic misfortune. But I need my peace once and for all…

well today I found myself drifting off to sleep to your favorite music…

I found myself drinking your favorite tea…

I caught myself watching your favorite sports team…

I was absently mindely thinking about all the sweet things you once told me…

but what I didnt find was you by my side

Reader beware as you pass by
As you are now so once was I
As I am now so you will be
Therefore prepare to follow me

isn't it ironic how people say everything takes time and then they say we have such a short amount of time living?

When I find a plain, old quote that really hits home, I keep it. It may be just black and white text but that's okay because it means something to me. Something inside me liked it so much that I often look at it and cherish it. Then a couple of days or weeks down the road, I will find the same quote. except this one has a exquisite, beautiful layout. It's teeming with colors that attract your eyes to it, fancy font, and more than likely an evergreen forest as it's background. Sure, the new edited version is so much more attractive but I wouldn't replace the original. because I can relate to it. I'm just a plain girl, yet I'm captivating like the pages of you favorite book. once you read me and find my little quirks and habits, I would hope that you would be unable to shake the thought of me. But I surely found out that this wasn't the case. I was replaced by the girl with better font, more appealing colors, and a stunning background. And I guess that's why I wouldn't replace the original, because I know too **** well what it feels like to be replaced.

With hazel eyes she used to see the world from every single angle. Her hair was as long as her love for the boy with the brown eyes across the table. With hands with chipped fingernails, she uses to write the poetry that fill her veins, and drew the world in her own way. She felt deeply, and sang soundly under her breath, while everyone loves her to death. A laugh that sounds like a melody, but to her nails on a chalkboard, as she leaves all these compliments ignored. With tears falling down onto the book at 4 am, she fell in love with a fictional him. She is the rarest thing people could see. She's herself and she's free.

Okay, so my friend wrote this about me and apparently this is how everyone sees me.