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Alexis Apr 2014
Society is so focused on being flawless.  Perfect.  No one is flawless, not even Beyonce.  We will forget who we are on the inside, and soon that won’t even matter because the physical appearance is the main priority.  Women these days are spending so much effort trying to look perfect, which hurts.  Pretty hurts.  Society is expecting women to look perfect, otherwise people will judge.  ‘Perfection is a disease of a nation’. The showbiz industry is giving a negative message to the world.  Photoshop is one of them.  Making a celebrity look flawless is fooling the world into thinking we must look like that.  Spending so much money on clothes, hair etc. but we don’t need to focus on that because all that matters is on the inside, which most people don’t seem to see anymore.  We are constantly getting the messages in our mind that we must be flawless, and sooner or later, this is a disease.  Some of us can’t take it anymore, which leads to anorexia, bulimia, insecurities, and issues with body image.  Pain also takes over our minds, which is ridiculous.  Even celebrities have gone through this because in our naïve little minds, we are thinking we have to be pretty.  There is so much pressure it takes over our minds, and that’s the only thing we think about.  We look into the mirror despising ourselves, because we are who we are.  Society has created us into thinking there’s a certain way we must look, which there is not.  Our flaws make us who we are, makes us positively different.  Unique.  But we aren’t allowed to think that way because the media isn’t allowing us to.  When people change, they are only cheating on themselves because media displays images of what we should and shouldn’t look like.  It’s not their fault though.  They can’t help it.  Changing, like getting botox or body implant is only giving us a masquerade.  It’s a mask to hide our real, inner beauty, which the media has taken the idea away from us, to become people who we actually aren’t.
And in the end, we know that pretty hurts.
a.a.
this probably ******
Alexis Apr 2014
It's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember, it hurts.
I like talking to people
Because other people are nice
I don't really like talking to you
Because you used to be nice,
And now you're not.  I don't know why.

But I don't feel nice when I talk to you,
I feel like I'm not being nice to you,
And I don't like that feeling.
Should I stop talking to you?

You make me think of things I have tried to forget for a long time
And I don't like thinking of things again,
Because I thought I had made a decision.
But you bring back the doubts I used to have all the time.
I lived with those doubts.  
They keep me from being happy all the time,
And I don't like that.

I don't know what there is that you can do to change things,
But if you could be nice to me, that would make me feel better about talking to you.
Then, maybe we could come to an understanding.
But I don't understand you, and you don't understand me.

I won't go through the hundreds of thoughts I've had about you,
Because you probably don't want to hear them anyway.
I just wish you were someone I'd never known,
And that I could meet you for the first time
And that we could be simple friends.
We messed that up before by being more than friends,
And now I feel like we are so much less than friends.

I wish we could be nice to each other.
I wish it wasn't my fault, or your fault, or life's fault.
I wish I knew what to do about you.
I hope you're okay, and that I am nice to you, even when I don't feel like it.
I hope you don't think unkind things about me.
I can't help it, I guess.  But I can hope.

And I hope you remember me.
camila annette Apr 2014
I am a happy girl...
Though I go through the dark
and lay on my knees,
I laugh and I laugh
till my laugh leads to tears.

Though I look and I look
at the razor once again,
I open and smile and go back to my cave.

And even though
I cry my eyes out,
this is the image I show
to the world when i'm out.

The thing they don't
know is that my tears
lead to fears,
and my soul is a virtue
no one will ever meet.
It's not one of my best
Marly Apr 2014
my stomach hurts a ton and the flowers on my skirt have been lying to me
ouch and ouch
Grim Apr 2014
I can't believe I've lost you
You were my everything
You left me
Yet you are still here
Your very presence suffocates my heart
I love you so much
But I also hate you
I hate you for doing this to me
For loving me
And then for giving up on that love
You are so close
We still show affection
But yet
You are still untouchable
I can't say I love you anymore
And that's what hurts the most
Because I'll always love you
Hollow Bones Apr 2014
Don’t you dare look at me as if you know me when I can’t even put my own finger on who I am or what I want.  And don’t you ever call yourself my friend until I’ve showed you the scars buried under my skin.  You can’t call yourself a lover until you’ve touched more than that very thing. And as I touch my body today it hurts, the bruises underneath my skin, they hurt. Pains that most people will never see. And I’m not talking some ******* metaphor it literally ******* hurts and I don’t understand what I did to deserve this, as I only banged my arm against the kitchen sink and everything else I could find three times. Exactly one, two, three times, each. And as I sit here in front of this old computer I look across the room at a once lovers best friend laughing as there probably isn’t a care in his wonderland he refuses to leave.
And when I think of you I remember your sad eyes always looking inward, pointed towards yourself, were strangely fixated on me and your soft lips were as flushed as your cheeks. You were looking at me not in some romantic way that you maybe wanted to kiss me; no I was pretty sure you were plotting our escape. I don’t know why you ever wanted to take me with you but you had that strange idea wrapped around your delusional little mind, going a little mad the only place I ran was towards you.  And as I wandered around in your house I got a little lost and I don’t think I ever was brave enough to leave you and come back home.
stream of consciousness
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