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Ana Jun 2020
I have a tendency to romanticise,
A habit of hoping.
Jumping to conclusions in my mind,
Maybe it's a way of coping.

It's caused a few issues,
Assumptions tend to do so.
But my mind won't give up that easily,
It sure doesn’t like hearing, 'no.'

So I may as well embrace it,
After all, what's so bad about hope?
Maybe that’s what we all need,
Maybe that’s a good way to cope.

Ana
I'm not sure how I feel about this one. I like the first stanza or so, but it went a different way than I was expecting. Let me know what you think!
Ken Pepiton May 2020
That hawk,
the one who sometimes attracts my attention,
by
repeating a pattern of swooping ellipses, as if

signaling me,
I'm witcha man, I fly by each day to say,

look up, I'm witcha man, which

is what my lizard brain would say, I think,
if it had words,

to express awareness of the pattern seeming
meaningful

enough
to
warrant a closer look.

Ah, I see. The hawk is not signaling me, she is hunting
my neighbor's range fed chickens.
At a glance, I figured it out.
Grey Dec 2019
No.
She's not made of glass.
She's not worried about breaking.
She's not delicate.

Stop.
You don't know how she feels.
You don't understand why she doesn't want the spotlight.
You don't get what it's like.

Don't.
She wouldn't want you to talk about this.
She doesn't want them to know.
She won't want you to tell them when you have it all wrong.

Please.
Stop making assumptions.
Stop breaking her trust.
Stop talking for her.

Go.
This isn't what she wants.
This is why she's hesitant.
This is what she's afraid of.
My sister is the bravest, strongest, selfless, best person I know. Stop. Please. You don't get it. I don't get it. Nobody gets it, not completely. Nobody but her knows exactly what it's like to be in her mind. So don't tell others when you have it all wrong. They don't have to know. They shouldn't know, not from you, not from anybody but her. I'm so tired of this. You're supposed to be the one who supports her the most. You have to think about what she wants. You have to think about what it's like to be her. I guess you try, but you get it all wrong. So stop it! Please.. just don't...
Grey Dec 2019
They say I'm perfect.
They say they wish they were me.
I scoff in their face.

They don't know my life.
They haven't traversed my mind
or searched through my thoughts.

They know nothing of
what it is like to be me.
They don't get to say

That I am perfect
Any more than I can say
I know their life story.
when we start our day
how it might end

whether we'll see
our loved ones again
after we say goodbye to them
in the morning

wheter the world
will kerp on turning
as we know it

we do not know

yet we asssume

a world built on asumptions
is the only one
we have
Nina Jun 2019
I made him think I've moved on
So that he wouldn't have to worry
About me loving him anymore
kaitlyn May 2019
Do I dare tell you how I feel?
I wonder..
Do I dare trust you?
I wonder..
Do I dare let you into my life?
I wonder..
Do I dare listen to you?
I wonder..
Do I dare let you assume things?
I wonder..
Do I dare argue back?
I wonder..
Do I dare end my life to prove a point?
Is it worth it, I wonder?
Maybe it is?
5/3/19
Casey Mar 2019
I had those random thoughts again.
Such as; how people pick you last for the first game of the semester played in a gym class, even though they don't know how good or bad you are.

It's off of appearance alone, which is *******.
"Oh they look thin, they're probably not good at (sport)."
What the **** does that have to do with anything?

When we played soccer, I showed up everyone else,
even though I was picked last.
They had the nerve to say to me, "Wow, good job!"
As if the notion that I was good at a sport was some sort of miracle.

Whatever.
Not like I played soccer for eleven ******* years.
Not like they knew that since sixth grade.

The way they say, "Wow, good job!", makes me sick.
They say it to me as if I'm unable to be good, just because they perceive me to be horrible at sports.
They sound so surprised.

Another thing's been stuck in my head ever since I've read Paper Towns.
John Green mentions people seeing mirrors of others as who they believe the person to be.
I find this true.
People love to think that they know someone very well, when they only know the version that they've created.
Green says we need to see through the window to see who the person actually is.

Which seems ******* impossible.
But it's not.
Just talk to them instead of assuming.

They've already built a mirror of who I am.
Of course, it's completely wrong.

I'm not some boring skinny twig that can't talk right.
I'm not smart, and I'm not rude.
I have emotions, and I really care about others, much more than myself, even.

That's not who I am to anyone else, though.
I have these journal entries on my phone that I'm posting here.
Jack R Fehlmann Oct 2018
I like your eyes
They suit you well
The slightest hint of green
Camouflaged in a sort of blue
Maybe grey
Hard to be certain
If I try, when I do
That is exactly the time
You decide to slide them away
Never knowing mine
Too often, too consistent
Don't worry,
I can read between lines
Pretty, I know you are used to it
Most that try are trying
To think that I am guilty
And my motives hide desires
Then there is no need worrying
I do not have designs or am I trying
Simply appreciating the colors
That compliment you friendly smile
Not my type though pretty you may be
Im a man of acquired tastes
It suits me, the ones that get me
the way they do,
Is less assumingly
Unlike you do.
assuming eyes,
Slide away always
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