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The infinity of our past pales in comparison to the infinity of our future.
I would rather have a panic attack in the dark room than be alone at home in my own zone depressed on my phone. Then staying up an insomniac, at the park, rising gloom, falling rain, feeling pain, like it's all I ever known.
Attempted suicide, but then revived, choking phlegm, thought I died, I was there, in the hospital, bare ***** riddled with needles, poked and prodded, dead skin rotted, almost cried, but I fought it.
Now I knew, I had to go home, and to school, to ******* and moaning and drama, and talking, and floating back to normal society, choking on tears in sobriety, kind of wish I stayed dead cause she gives me glee, ignore what I just said and don't pitty me, as I escape again to a place you flee, when the lit fuse of my bomb rapidly, rushes towards the end, she's gone and done it again, she's wrong and loving other men, I'm right here and paying amends, for **** that I never did, all I ever wanted was to please a kid, with a rotten heart, that was full of sin, I hope the goal was never to win, in this game of life, strife ridden knife stuck on skin.
What doesn't make sense is how she makes me so happy, cause I'm dense headed every time she calls me pappy, or *** or says, "I Love You", it was two months of a misconstrued, confusing relationship thing, now two months without it and it ******* stings and aches when I'm not around her, I want to love her, I want to ground her, ram her, straight into the floor or wall so maybe she can feel my pain, bash her head in a door and make her choke on a wedding ring, while I smoke **** out her mouth like toking while she's bleeding from the throat down to the feet and... in this verse I just finished a talk and I understand that I've been gawking nonsense all along and she isn't with me because she doesn't want to hurt me, but sticks by me because she really likes me.
I feel fine now because I've put the puzzle pieces together and I've calmed down now cause I think I understand Heather.
That's what I'll tell myself as life goes on, living in the prison cell of pain and beyond.
Did I figure it all out?
How it’s hard to be a person.
Lesson One.
Being one.
It’s fun when you’re a kid because mischief is cute, but now you wear a suit and “funerals” is in your vocabulary and there’s never peace of mind and you’re always weary for the times when you make a mistake because being an adult means you have to be great 100% of the time... unless you’re out of your mind in which case it’s legally forgivable, but you’ll never get back the friends who were critical and that brings us to
lesson two. Cynical.
Making friends.
Making friends is hard in this bizarre world of mine. As an adult you never have the time. You don’t know who to trust. If it’s the opposite *** it must be ****, right? I mean that’s all we’re ever told. Fight for the right to make out. The brave and the bold always go for the gold whenever lips are involved. Same *** is just as bad. It’s sad really. Hyper masculinity & competitive-ism run amok. It’s just our luck that we’re taught to be different but also to never give a ...
“Who cares if things are bad. Now let’s not get political. So you’re saying that when you were young you were proud to be whimsical. A trait that you developed. It’s personality? Well personally I think it’s weird. Originality? What are you *****?”
You see the point I’m trying to make? You don’t? Well for goodness sake, open your eyes. You think I’m not trying? You’re lying to yourself if you think this is easy.
Putting it all on paper.
Being an instigator.
They’ll say “see you later” for sure, but you bet they never will.
Alienated for the views of loving everybody.
It’s hard to be human.
A depressed optimist walks into a bar.
n oa Dec 4
it's cold outside tonight
the air is sharp as it blows snow around my city
i have wrapped myself in blankets
the same way the snow has wrapped itself around trees and blanketed the cold ground

and its dark,
and the edges of my nose get so red and cold that my skin starts to peel

but the sun can shine so bright
and it can bring so much light
and warmth

the cold winter is brought powerless

everything that is bitter and cold
can be turned sweet and warm
with some sunshine

and the sun is always there, waiting for her turn
to show you how warm and beautiful life can be
seasonal affective disorder am i right ladies
Lost Girl Dec 3
Your heart is heavy,
But you shine so bright.
Look for beauty inside.
You will survive.
Vanessa Dec 3
We are born afraid
Of the shattered pieces that come
Maybe we are supposed to break
For the gold cracks of light
to shine through us.
Hidden Glace Dec 2
When did I forget who wanted to be?
Maybe it was when I found out that a ring doesn't mean forever;
when closed doors flew open and tore my home apart.
Maybe it was when I found out that mistakes had consequences;
Something I regret to this day and can't ever amend.
Maybe it was when I toured that school 810 miles away.
closing one chapter and opening another, with new characters.

Maybe it was when I thought I had nothing left to live for.
Maybe it was that day when a handful of pills poured out
Maybe it was that day when I hurt her again, saying it was her fault.
Maybe it was the three days I spent regretting not just swallowing those pills.
Maybe it was when I opened my veins while friends and family watched.
Maybe it was when I gathered everything I treasured, including but not limited to:

A black 3DS, which would go to my little brother.
A blue Nintendo Gameboy, which would go to my best friend.
A musical script, flipped to my favorite song, a song of goodbyes.
A foam stick, going to a friend who could use it.
My bow, recently given to me by my father;
(I wish I used it with him more)
A beaten up black hoodie, her favorite. She wouldn't take it, I'm sure, but it's only for her.
A few simple notes, detailing who gets what and why I did so.
Me, in a dress suit I knew I'd never grow out of.
Me, in a tie and belt.
Me, almost hanging there.
and a mess of memories that stopped me.

When did I forget who I wanted to be?
I suppose it was the day when I realized the person I wanted to be
no longer was a person I wanted to be.
I'll be honest, I'm still suicidal.
I make jokes, I can be happy, but at the end of the day, I just feel tired.

\Then my phone rings//
I know why I'm not the person I wanted to be.
I can't say I changed for you, or that I changed to be a "better man"
I don't need someone who's fixed.
I know I'm broken.
I don't need someone fake, wearing makeup and spending hours on looking "pretty"
I don't like that.
I need someone I can cry with
someone I can stay up late with
someone I can hold
someone I can comfort
someone I can be there for
someone I love
someone to wear that black beaten hoodie.
someone like you, Love.
thank you
Every time.
Kind of a poem, more of a poor attempt to express a complicated feeling. Wait a second, I think that's what poetry is for.
This was written very late at night and I am tired.
I love her very much <3
Laying down on the grass
Growing with the flowers

Learning to love the sun
Making this world ours

Run with me through this crazy dream of mine
where we're the only two left to wander

Not caring about those that have wronged us
and flying off into the wide blue yonder

Every morning we'll taste the sweet dew
and every night we'll sing the sun to sleep

We'll have the life we've always dreamt of
and go beyond the mediocre skin-deep

Have you ever considered that what you're going through is not for you
it's for those watching for how you respond?
Give them hope.
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