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Lindsey Kristine Sep 2015
Dear Crystal ****,
I loved you
I put so much trust in you
I spent every hour of every day confiding in you
I told you my deepest fears
I let you know how broken i was
and you ******* took advantage of me
You took everything i owned
you stole my family from under me
you robbed me of all my money
We never had a healthy relationship

From the first night i met you
you beat me into a ****** pulp
You made me hate everyone
You turned me into a monster just like you..

You dug your claws into me
You slit my skin with your razors of control
But you just brushed it off and kept destroying me
I tried so many times to leave you
I tried so hard to cut you off
But the attemps just failed

You flooded my mind with thoughts of you
You gave me flashbacks of when we were together
I heard your voice screaming when all i wanted to do was forget about you
You controlled every aspect of my mind
my body
And my life

Then one day i couldnt take it anymore
Your abuse was to muc for me
You had me on my knees begging for a saving grace
I cried
I screamed
I begged god for the light
I wanted to die
I stood on the edge of bridges
I stared at knives and blades
I felt like i couldnt continue with you
and like i definitly count continue without you..

Then one dark august night
God awnsered my prayers
He wrapped his arms around me and rocked me to sleep after so many weeks without closing my eyes
I slept for almost 4 days
Waking only to use the restroom and to shove any food i could find in my face
You slowly left my system

You didnt go peacefully of course
You paniced
You clawed
You begged me not to do this
but i didnt listen

I stayed true to myself
I finally left you...

Things wernt smooth at first
I felt lost
I was confused about everything involving life
I didnt know who i was
I thought i would for sure go running back to you
But i gave it time

I pushed through the hot and cold flashes
Ignored the hallucinations and the fevers
It was pure hell on earth
But the torture was worth every second because leaving you was the best decition i have ever made for myself

Tomarrow is 30 days free from your shackles
Life still is a constant struggle
But honestly
I would not expect any different after breaking free from the cage of satan and into the sunlight of heaven

I now hae so many things to be greatful for
I have a roof over my head
I bed to sleep in thats not jail or a hospital.
I am a cherished member of y family again
I found love unexpectedly with a man who makes me feel like the most beautiful woman on earth
I have my goals and morals back
I see a future for myself
and most of all..
I am thankful i am breathing because you almost killed me

Someone once said
"Dope heads never quit, they only take extended breaks"
Well, i am proud to say i never am allowing you back into my life

So thank you ****
Even though you shattered every part of my soul
I now have a brand new outlook on life
I also never would have asked my now fiance for a ride home if you had never made me so sick i was in the emergency room
I dont regret you
Because i learned so much about myself and life from you

But now i can finally say...
I ******* hate you and i will never be with you again

Sincerally:
One greatful proud, life loving forever ex tweaker <3
My letter to the monster I overcame.
G Rog Rogers Oct 2017
Revolution
is a confiding smile
that reaches from
deep within the heart
An outstretched hand
up and out
to give a life forsaken
a new start

To seek and search
far beyond
and glimpse
a brightly shining path
Yet then to look behind
and back again
to be assured that all
will know the way

Rebellion
is a knowing look
a glance from eye to eye
A slight inflection
of radiant joy
in the tenor of a sigh

The quietly warm
and whispered word
with a gentle breeze of hope

Revolution is a beautifully
harmonious triumphant tune
that just won't leave
you alone

-R.

(06)
-TX
Rvsd.

©ASGP
Gianna Iman Apr 2014
Distressed tears trickle down a face soiled with dolor
Flooding a pillow with painful memories
drowning every being of hope
Swallowing love in a black hole
Only to be thrown back up
As a wreckage of confused emotion
A sponge soaking up all my ambition
Leaving pessimistic thoughts to fill the cold void where there is only an echo of happiness
My already cracked spirits are fatigued
Sharply cutting through my mind where affection is suffocated
And lust is left gasping for air
My insecurities seek acceptance
Confiding in the cushion that holds every tear
It welcomes my troubles
And shuns my dreams
I am a lost soul
If only I could abide behind a fortress that protects my heart
only then will my tears cease
Inclusion: the action or state of including
or being included within a group or structure

Solution: a means of solving a problem or
dealing with a difficult situation

Now, is *‘inclusion’ the ‘solution’
?

Is confiding not always in yourself,
but being able to confide in people you trust:
a group,
a team,
not an impeccably simple way to solve complications?

Some people that dwell in isolation
succumb to despondency and desolation
and invariably,
wrap themselves in a costume of facades.
Inclusion eradicates these issues.

We as humans
want answers to our questions,
resolutions to our complications;
a myriad of different perspectives
can quickly enlighten and open the eyes
of those who truly seek a solution.

Solution to what?
Solutions to those “impossible questions”,
Solutions to those “exasperating situations” we can’t seem to get out,
Solutions to those “family troubles”
"relationship troubles",
"work troubles",
most importantly,
those “social problems”.

Inclusion is no secret,
it’s the biggest weapon we as people have.
Inclusion gives all of its users the power
to control.
Inclusion is power,
the real wealth beneath our skins.
With inclusion,
we have the solution.

(d.b.d.)
Mark Strange  May 2015
Rant
Mark Strange May 2015
Drama like rats biting at my ear. I can hear them confiding in me their troubles, yet I am not willing to listen. I'm tired. So very tired of all their musings, *******, screaming, ranting. It's not that important, it stupid, silly ignorant. Life is so much more then this petty childish behavior from full grown adults. I am not a leader of a team, I am a babysitter. But here I am, ranting about them as they do others. Am I no better then they?
Liam  May 2013
Pub Juxtaposition
Liam May 2013
personal journal musings from last week...*

Stopped in at my neighborhood pub last night
  a couple of pints, some word exchange
Colorful place on a perfect Spring evening
  people on tap, constantly spilling in and out

The place is bustling and packed
  loud and dynamic
Sound flowing on open air
  drifting in from sidewalk patio and out to beer garden

Luckily nab a lonely stool near the entrance
  girl sitting kitty-corner around curving end of bar
Casually we cover topics from her mac 'n cheese
  to wind chill generated by ceiling fans

Conversation is suddenly confiding
  prior night's end-all fight with her live-in boyfriend
Obvious need to talk to someone neutral
  bartenders are busy, so it's me and we do

She's come seeking emotional sanctuary
  awaiting his departure to some event
Unhappy with her role in the argument
  unhappy with the person she has become with him

They'd intended to go ring shopping
  as recently as last week
She now looks forward only to the comfort of
  quiet, pajamas, ice cream, dreamless sleep

Upon leaving, she twice asks that I promise
  to be here if she finds no solitude and must return
This is no request...more of an appeal
  alone in privacy is one thing...alone in festivity another

I promise twice - I'll be here
  she doesn't return
I sincerely hope that she's well on her way to
  an ice cream induced pj slumber

              Less than an hour later...same bar stool

Pleasingly boisterous bachelorette party arrives
  staking claim to a nearby parcel of floor
Numerous "excuse me" squeeze-throughs  for drink orders
  rendering me a semi-familiar bar obstacle

One reveless wedges in, questions me
  what color underpants do I have on...don't recall
Insists that we check...dark bluish-grey
  too bad...she was hoping for purple to match her own

Impishly waiting long enough for my mind to stew
  she finally reveals the query as part of a formal interactive checklist
I apologize for not being more daring in spectrum
  we laugh, nevertheless...strike one

Eventually exchanging pleasantries with another
  a more subtle approach, but the inquisition repeats
Here we go again...Batter up!...Red?...very sorry...strike two
  I'm feeling of no value to this effort

Red offers me a redeeming pitch from the list
  someone must serenade the bride-to-be
I accept and get to meet the veiled celebrity
  she wears an engaging and jubilant aura

Gauging the atmosphere, I decide against romantic
  opting for a song that playfully questions the sanity of her choice
From my heart, I sing the chorus to Matchbox Twenty's "Unwell"
  It goes over very well and I avoid strike three

She and I hit it off, we discuss her wedding plans
  discover our roots are in the same part of the city
I'm rewarded for my musical contribution
  allowed to buy her a shot of Patrón...the checklist dwindles

Now partaking in the excitement of their celebration  
  an honorary addition to the large but exclusive group
My joyous new acquaintance has us take a picture together
  a snapshot of this special occasion to which I've somehow been privileged

A train of waves, goodbyes, thanks, and good lucks
  trails the party as I watch it crawl to the next establishment
In the hushed cacophony, I return to my thoughts
  a fantastic diversity of emotional experience within two short hours

My elbows on the bar in sober contemplation
  counting crows ...one...two...juxtaposed
A contrast of simultaneous realities
  somberly lamenting vs vibrantly anticipating

Reflecting on the beauty in such contrasts
  that serve to define the images of our lives
I finally come to the inevitable conclusion
  it's time for another pint...of ice cream
1466

One of the ones that Midas touched
Who failed to touch us all
Was that confiding Prodigal
The reeling Oriole—

So drunk he disavows it
With badinage divine—
So dazzling we mistake him
For an alighting Mine—

A Pleader—a Dissembler—
An Epicure—a Thief—
Betimes an Oratorio—
An Ecstasy in chief—

The Jesuit of Orchards
He cheats as he enchants
Of an entire Attar
For his decamping wants—

The splendor of a Burmah
The Meteor of Birds,
Departing like a Pageant
Of Ballads and of Bards—

I never thought that Jason sought
For any Golden Fleece
But then I am a rural man
With thoughts that make for Peace—

But if there were a Jason,
Tradition bear with me
Behold his lost Aggrandizement
Upon the Apple Tree—
MESSENGER

Now at the Seventh Gate the seventh chief,
Thy proper mother's son, I will announce,
What fortune for this city, for himself,
With curses he invoketh:--on the walls
Ascending, heralded as king, to stand,
With paeans for their capture; then with thee
To fight, and either slaying near thee die,
Or thee, who wronged him, chasing forth alive,
Requite in kind his proper banishment.
Such words he shouts, and calls upon the gods
Who o'er his race preside and Fatherland,
With gracious eye to look upon his prayers.
A well-wrought buckler, newly forged, he bears,
With twofold blazon riveted thereon,
For there a woman leads, with sober mien,
A mailed warrior, enchased in gold;
Justice her style, and thus the legend speaks:--
'This man I will restore, and he shall hold
The city and his father's palace homes.'
Such the devices of the hostile chiefs.
'Tis for thyself to choose whom thou wilt send;
But never shalt thou blame my herald-words.
To guide the rudder of the State be thine!


ETEOCLES

O heaven-demented race of Oedipus,
My race, tear-fraught, detested of the gods!
Alas, our father's curses now bear fruit.
But it beseems not to lament or weep,
Lest lamentations sadder still be born.
For him, too truly Polyneikes named,--
What his device will work we soon shall know;
Whether his braggart words, with madness fraught,
Gold-blazoned on his shield, shall lead him back.
Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,
Guided his deeds and thoughts, this might have been;
But neither when he fled the darksome womb,
Or in his childhood, or in youth's fair prime,
Or when the hair thick gathered on his chin,
Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,
Nor in this outrage on his Fatherland
Deem I she now beside him deigns to stand.
For Justice would in sooth belie her name,
Did she with this all-daring man consort.
In these regards confiding will I go,
Myself will meet him. Who with better right?
Brother to brother, chieftain against chief,
Foeman to foe, I'll stand. Quick, bring my spear,
My greaves, and armor, bulwark against stones.
Kara Jean  Jul 2016
The woman
Kara Jean Jul 2016
Her long symbolic hair caressing her body
Her torn jeans representing her dignity
Sentimental to the teen rotted inside a lifetime ago
Tears making her smile
Her pink apple suit case was confiding
Hiding in a storm, where rocks were thrown
Bruises and scars across her knees
Killing the young girl
No longer innocent eyed
She's a a straggler
Structure tried
She runs away searching
Fresh start is an opportunity topped off with profanity
Odds pushing her down
A constant, as the sun raises its eyebrows
Her cards she never questioned there quality
As he touched her fingers
She has one chance
Contemplative perseverance
Old write fixed up a bit
(Explicit)

I couldn't tell you what it was...
Or what caused it...
I honestly hadn't thought about you much...
It was a first but it came in plenty.
It was like I forgot about you...
Even if only...

Briefly...

My theory is...
Yes, of course I have one...


In the wake of,
a recent devastation..
I was..
Quite vulnerable..
Teetering on hopelessness...

It was in the midst of all this,
That My,
Boss,
My Employer,
&
Friend,
Starts confiding in me for marital advice....

Seems harmless right??
I mean really...
Why the **** did I even care?

Why would these harmless insignificant things bring back so many memories.


I remember going home that evening...
Drinking wine on my little black sofa...
Looking out my window, as the rain began to sound against my window pane..

It was then, that I realized..
Something started stirring in me
...
I was missing you...

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why do familiar situations, have that pile of **** way of digging things up...
You've already buried ten feet deep?

I'm angry...

I'm ******* at myself!

I don't want to miss a man who doesn't miss me.
Whose not thinking about me.

I don't want to feel the icy sting in my heart knowing he never loved me.

How he got away Scott free.
Without pain or agony...

I don't want there to be some piece of you I always love or a special place in my heart, where you'll always stay...

Because you don't ******* deserve it.

You never deserved me...

You never indured...
The pain and agony...
You don't know what it feels like, to be suffering.

Having to go through what it feels like when, your heart gets even a whiff of something that's tied to your memory..

I hate that my heart still entertains this **** because I wanna be rid of everything that has your memory tied to it.
( I lost track of my journal entry number so this will just be journal Entry 1170 just sounds pretty.)


Sorry for the rant.
Eva Tongali Dec 2020
i remember confiding in you.
telling you about the men who stole from me,
tore apart my flesh,
took everything i had when i was too young to understand i was losing something,
and i remember your face.
your face was filled with pain as you told me it wasn’t my fault,
that i did nothing wrong and there was nothing more i could’ve done,
you were going to be the good i saw in men.

i remember when i told you about the boys who asked me for pictures.
and all of the lies they told to force me into doing it,
saying they would come to my house and do the things that those men had done,
i was afraid.
but when i told you there was promise and hope in your eyes,
comforting me telling me that once again,
i was not to blame.
you were going to be the good i saw in men.

and then you became worse than the men i had told you about.
each and every one.

you said it you wanted me to become comfortable in my body.
you said that you knew how insecure i was and wanted to make me feel better about myself.
you said i had to because if i could do it for other guys, i owed it to him.
you said you were going to **** yourself if i didn’t.

i loved you,
and i think i always will.
you made me realize that there is no good in men,
and for the two years you forced me into submission,
i will never get the part of myself that you stole back.
i just want to learn how to let go of you. but most importantly, i want to learn how to love myself again.

- Eva Tongali
The Broken Poet Jun 2015
She walks in the hallways nothing but couples holding hands and proclaiming their love to one another. She stares at awe, wishing for one day to be married and to never divorce, but the timing is just not right for her. She's a sucker for romance novels, she's loves getting lost in their magic. All her friends are dating now, but she is not ready for commitment. She is not ready for the heartache, or the pain of getting hurt. She pushes everybody away once they start to develop feelings for her. She's afraid of getting hurt, so she must hurt them before they can hurt her. She slowly pushes them away and she slowly creeps into the shadows afraid of being seen by the boys. Oh! But by midnight, she'll be up all night reading some romance novel, but she is not ready and she is content with not being ready. Relationships are normal, they say, relationships are natural, the say, but they will never look within her heart for she will never give herself up like that. She is afraid of men. She is afraid of boys. She is afraid of confiding her love in someone that can leave right before her very eyes. She is not ready for her romance novels to be fake, she still lives in her dreams and in her dreams, no one gets hurt, but this is the real world and she is bound to get hurt. She locks up her heart, only willing to give it to the man who stays to find the key gravely contained within Her soul, way beyond a human's ability. She does not want her imagination on love to be fake. She does not and will not let a boy ruin her expectations on love. She is too young for that. After High School, you'll forget me and I'll forget you. Nothing will work, everything is only temporary. She is not ready for commitment. We are too young to commit ourselves way beyond the next minute. I am not ready. I am afraid of boys. I am afraid of men. I am afraid of getting hurt. I am afraid of commitment. I am afraid of never being loved. I am afraid of being loved. They just don't get it! Men are stronger and more aggressive and just like that, they can make way with you. I am not ready for that. I am not ready for love. I am afraid of being loved. I am simply afraid.

— The End —