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Helene Marie Feb 1
how come i'm always tired
when i want so badly to be awake

how come time seems to move slower
when i feel like i'm going so fast

so fast...
s o   fast. . .
s  o     f a s t  .  .  .

everything is moving too fast
my mind, my heart, my body

i look in the mirror and i wonder
what's happening up there

up there...
u p  there. . .
u  p   t h e r e .  .  .

my head, it's racing,
too many miles per minute

it's racing, too slow, too fast, too slow, too fast
and i just want to hit the brakes
the line is blurry, for
one day you look at me
the next i disappear.
You laugh with her,
then we shed a tear.
you're hot and then cold
and i need stability
the ability fragility mobility
of another person
i need
a touch a rush a crush
i need you, with your boombox
standing outside my window
i need you to concentrate
on me
for i am conceited, indeed
but i think you love me
Everything is blurry
Not because of my lack of glasses
But because of my surplus of tears
underestimated Dec 2018
I've never met someone with no worries
I've never known someone who's that worthy
Worthy of a peace of mind
Worthy enough to be kind
I guess things just get too blurry
Are you worried?
Danica Tuquero Nov 2018
Starring at the window
Waiting for the glow
Starry Starry night
Where does my heart go

Blurry blurry sight
You hurt me so right
It makes me feel blue
I don't have a clue

The rain start to fall
So does my eyes too
Waiting for the night
That I'm gonna be alright

Those season I have
that I never had
That I've been this bad
For our second chance
Rayne Oct 2018
What does one do when the lines of the meaning of love are blurred for a girl at the age of fourteen?
When a girl is pinned down to a bed even though she said
No
No
No
But let it happen because she thought that was how relationships were supposed to be.

Maybe he didn’t listen because I’m wrong
This is meant to happen
I’m his girlfriend.
I should be okay with him groping me.
Stop being so uncomfortable.
Stop squirming underneath his grasp.
Stop trying to pry his fingers off of your breast as he laughs at your struggle.
He’s your boyfriend.
He loves you.
This is okay.

It must be okay
Because the pattern continued.
It must just be love when your boyfriend tries to touch you in untouched places while you’re trying to sleep
At the age of fifteen.
I’d never been touched there before
I’d never even touched myself there before.
And I had never felt any more uncomfortable in my whole life
But who was I to say
No.
It was love,
Right?

And it wasn’t assault, right?
Surely I- a young, normal girl- didn’t become a victim of ****** assault
Right?
I didn’t say no.
I was too scared to say no.
I was too scared that the words
No
No
No
Became lost in my mouth
And my eyes were stuck shut because they were too scared
Too see the kind of  love he was giving me.

And I wanted to leave but I couldn’t
Because love is supposed to be this way.
I never had a physical experience showing otherwise.
This must be love
The lines are not blurred.
This is how it is.

For a moment I thought that maybe
I wasn’t wrong.
That this repetition of touching
That this lack of approval
Was wrong.
My body is my body
I’m not found strung on the shelves of *** shops
Or delivered in a package with a bow on top
Spread across the table for a man’s full course meal.
No.
I am a person
And just because I have ******* and curves and a vulnerable physique does not mean I am up for grabs--

He told me he loved me
But if that was love that was no love of mine
And I told him
No
No
No.
I exposed him
I may have been in tears but I told him I knew everything that he had been doing to me and I called out his love

And he
He
Did not apologize.
He did not explain himself to me.
He just told me that
It was okay.
I was okay.

Because that’s right.
I am nothing
I am nothing
How silly of me to think otherwise
How silly of me that I almost forgot that I am nothing more
Than an object for you to touch how you please.
Who needs sleep
When the man can’t wait
For you to wake up
For consent
For you to yell
No
No
No.

Because who am I to say no?
eli Aug 2018
I lock myself into a room
I fall to the ground
I can't breathe
I cant see
   everything is
                  b
                      l
                   u
                   r
                      r
                   y
my tears cover my eyes
I don't know why
but these panic attacks won't stop coming
and I don't know why

am I overthinking too much again?
has my depression come back?
am I all alone again?
do I miss him too much?
My eyes are wide shut
This silence is deafening
I keep on stressing
Heart beat hastens
Silence so loud
Unspoken words
Like a hot rod
Burns in my chest
So much to tell you
So little said
We're not paid to hurt
It hurts to love.
But I love you.
I literally crave you
Just let me save you
Let's pace together
A path we'll walk
I did stalk you
In the wake of a shattered moonlight
The beams that held dreams are
broken because of words left unspoken.
These thoughts are just a token of my hurt.
My memories are fleeting
But one thing will never change
I AM JONATHAN
Or am I SCARLETT
Blurry line between right and wrong
Quite a sad song
I need an outlet for this pain.
wisteria Jun 2018
a bewildered face, a blurry
cloud in the sky, i’m
turning in circles and every second i see something else collapse.
like the lungs
behind our ribs, we can’t breathe
when the air is so thick.
our bodies shrinking, lungs
suffocating, i don’t think you have room for
me,, anymore.
it was too overwhelming i think
starchild May 2018
i’m standing in the middle of a museum. which one? not important. i’ve lost vision; everything is blurred and i feel like i’ve just been told i’m legally blind. i can’t decipher what is art and what isn’t. is this chair something i can sit on, or an antique sculpture? are the people walking around me real or some elaborate movie being projected with myself as the only real one there? how can i even be sure that i’m real? of course you are real. i tell myself you would never be considered art.

and then it hits me. her. when i looked at her, it’s like i had 20/20 all over again. she was so clear but somehow remained dream-like in such a natural way. she was more than art. she is more.

god how i’ve felt myself being ripped apart like pages out of a sketchbook everyday since i’ve met her (it’s not your fault; i’m the one who ends up burning them anyways).
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