Carried you around like an emblem,
Wore you on my sleeve,
the Bastard Child iron-on patch.
Damaged goods and everyone knew it.
Lump in my throat I never could swallow,
I named it Pride and found solace in it.
Named my Traitor Tears
Giving Up and Giving In
and mourned them as they fell.
Learned forgiveness is for the victim,
Almost never for the culprit.
Taught myself how to love
So sometimes it's a little selfish.
Pride jumps out of my throat
The day I admit that I want you.
I never needed to swallow it,
Only to let it go.
I came home the day
I came to you.
Your embrace felt like divine intervention,
and I'm a fucking atheist.
Twenty one years worth of resentment
evaporate into thin air. Never knew
I was capable of this kind of forgiveness.
So bold as to let you see my weakness,
and that I am made entirely of it.
Never felt more whole than I do
In your presence.
We pick up where we left off,
Though we never left off to begin with.
Found a friend and a father on the same day
in the same man, learned to love in a way
the Bastard Child could understand, and now
I need only to forgive myself.
This place is sad without you
It heaves a sigh
Emptying it of our things
Signifies the end of making memories here
The end of filling the air between these walls
With our voices, laughter
Sharing life
I want to load the memories onto a hard drive
And preserve them perfectly
So I won't forget them
I'm afraid to shut the door
And leave forever
Without you
I was 10 when my parents took me aside to tell me why befriending you was a bad idea after a certain incident of saying the wrong thing at the wrong place and time.
They said that you were "a naughty girl" and for me to "don't friend" you.
I was your only friend...
At 11, I continued to be fast friends with you despite it all.
11 is the age all the cool kids get into cliques and bully those who don't belong.
You were my clique.
None of us were cool...
Sure, everyone at church whom we grew up with or watched us grow up thought we were "cool" just cuz' we spoke good English (which none of us do anymore because it got tainted with the colliqial jargon called 'Manglish' - which in itself is a bad joke, by the way) and could draw and act well.
Otherwise, if you think about it...we were the real-world rejects.
The weirdos.
At 13, I made the big mistake of seeing my parents' point.
I nearly "didn't friend you"
13 is the age where your reputation matters the most.
And your eyes are open as you awaken from that sweet slumber called childhood to start seeing the world for the ugly reality it is in adolescence.
Suddenly, I started to see your faults.
And you were becoming an embarassing accessory that was out of style.
So we drifted apart.
As I started distancing myself from you and befriending other people.
The "normal people"- who see pearls as pearls and stones as stones.
Unlike us.
Unlike you...
Trying to convince myself I was "normal" too.
But of course, I never was (don't plan to be either) and none of them were like you.
I only ended up getting kicked to the curb in my attempts to fit in with the "normal world."
So I crawled back to you.
But you'd already left.
I deserved it.
No more bounding out of nowhere to give me excited hugs everytime I visited or you came over.
No more "catching up with Dav"
No more long-ass phone calls on our respective home landlines.
No more sleepovers.
You'd grown up and realized your worth.
And that you were worth far more than this - to be clinging on to an old friend who was starting to drift apart instead of letting me go too like the piece of floating trash I was.
Soon, we stopped liking the same things.
You got into anime - when I'd dropped that interest long ago (once I'd found out how satanic and perverted the industry was. No offense, otakus).
In fact, I'd stopped liking anything at all. Depression does that.
My younger sister picked anime up too and now it's almost like you're her best friend instead of mine because of this little common ground you both have.
At 19, you'd even stopped having my back or defending me in front of people who were treating me like the piece of shit I feel like half the time.
And you mostly still do.
And that was when I realized I'd really lost what we had.
...that I'd really lost you.
And no matter how we try to go back to the start, things can never be exactly the way they before this
No matter how much we try to put the broken pieces of this mirror back together, there will always be a few cracks and missing shards of glass here and there.
Just like trust, friendship is like a mirror.
You can fix it when it's broken but you will always see the crack in that reflection.
Ours falls right between it...
...at the place where our linked hands used to be.
The sun rised
And so did she
Each alone–
Together
The sun shined
And so did she
But that to the world
And she to the sun
The sun awoke
and so did she
But that to the world
And she from the world
For the world was her nightmare
The sun was the alarm
She rised for the sun
The sun rised for her nightmare
She doesn't know
She's lost
Where to go
She doesn't know
She stayed–
In her nightmare
And left the traitor–
The sun
But the sun set
And left the world
Should she try
And catch up with the sun
No
Her trust has faded
The sun's a traitor
The sun set
and she left
love
a mix of feelings
love
several meanings
love
it can be tragic
love
but not when its pure
sometimes,
love is an addiction
may be good
may be bad
sometimes,
love is just
and SOMETIMES,
its ALWAYS unfair
keywords here:
sometimes and always
was that confusing??
yes
just like love
I mean, love is a formula
with an indefinite variable
it's an experiment
that breaks your heart
or makes it malleable
depends on your x,y values
one thing I know for sure
about love-
when it's pure
is that love means
sacrifice
it means care
it means butterflies
that cause a flare
love is a gift
given to whom deserves it
One day I stopped,
I looked at the person who has no friends,
The person that you pass and just give that look,
The verbal abuse they receive behind their back,
It hurts!
He was broken
He knew what was said
He felt like nobody cared.
Next time, if you see that boy...
Stop and think: Will what I do hurt?
Stop and give them your time.
Stop the nasty comments!
After all, they hurt!
and i only feel safe when you speak first
my welcome's only valid from the moment you say the words
and each new day needs a new renewal,
'cause i'm never sure of just how you feel
and feeling like trouble is always worse
than never gaining the courage to tell you it hurts
when you're spitting acid on my unassuming form
expecting me to know what it was i did that's wrong
i look to you, i'm helpless, so if you're leaving just go.
my head is smart, sure, my heart is stupid, though
i'll ask you to read this and pretend you never read it,
an admission of a problem - pain? i'm an addict
I get them so bad these days.
Alcohol gets me going and your touch keeps me floating.
Genuine smiles surface and the happiness I keep locked down below begins to bubble.
A tranquil explosion of vivid pastels paint a foreground in my eye.
Everything seems to make more sense.
It always ends, I've sobered up and you didn't stay.
The happiness that just barely began to bubble now turns to trouble.
I've depressed to find myself lonely, empty and stray.
Is this who I really am without stimulus, without catalyst?
Is it you I'm missing or something more fundamental.
How do you find happiness you desperately need when desperately searching for happiness is so unattractive.
That inescapable fact that when you need it the most it's nowhere to be found.
I'm not fine when it all stops. When it all starts rolling off the edge just as I'm reaching for it. When I'm not able to squeeze a smile worth of happiness through the gates - I'm not fine.
I have withdrawals from my own happiness.
Please, don’t look at me when I pass by.
Please, don’t talk to me on your lunch break.
Please, don’t ask me to do things with you on the weekend.
Please, don’t respond to my texts.
Please, don’t look at me with those eye’s.
Please, when I ask if you wanna go do something on the holidays don’t say yes.
Please don’t make it hard on me, when you eventually get bored of me.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I'll take whatever you can give.
I've had a real hard time dealing,
with the way that we're supposed to live.
Can I borrow a feeling?
It doesn't even have to be good,
I'd tie a rope to the ceiling
if I wasn't so sure I'd break the wood.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I'll be thankful for what you lend.
This world has stopped being appealing,
'cause while we stand, our knees tend to bend.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I can promise to put it to use,
and it's not in my nature for stealing,
I'll pay you back, this is no ruse.
I don't want to be a blank page,
displayed on centre stage.
I don't want to be a blank page,
I'm too young to feel this age.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I so badly wish to emote,
I've heard that it can be healing,
and free the hands from my throat.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I'm now really begging here,
and it's so damn revealing,
that my desperation is so clear.
I don't want to be a blank page,
displayed in my skeletal cage.
I don't want to be a blank page,
I'm too young to feel this age.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I'll be thankful for what you lend.
This life has truly sent me reeling,
and I finally feel at my wit's end.