Dori 1d

I’m not someone you fall in love with. 

I’m the girl you find in the Fall and get sick of by winter. I’m the girl you make empty promises to. I’m the girl who holds onto those promises. I’m the girl who wakes up every morning missing you not knowing if you miss her instead. I’m the girl you stay up until 3am talking to and then the same girl who doesn’t get a good morning text. I’m the girl who gives you second chances because I believe we can make this work. I’m the girl who’s not brave enough to tell you that I’ve loved you since November and still loved you in February…even after you told me you had feelings for him. I’m the girl you use. I’m the experiment. I’m the trial and also the error. I am the girl who breaks her bones while crying into a pillow. I’m the girl who smiles at strangers because they might have it worse than me.
But I’m the girl you fucking leave.

I would like to sucker punch the motherfucker that decided to tell everyone that dead bodies look like they are sleeping.
12 year old me thought I was prepared to see my mother and father just taking a nap.
I was so fucking wrong.
I'm pretty sure that it's instinct to know when somebody isn't breathing, that they're not sleeping.
I'm pretty sure the machine flat-lining was the grand signal that someone I love no longer existed.
I'm pretty fucking sure that if they looked like they were sleeping- I wouldn't have stopped talking for 2 months because I was traumatized as hell.
They don't tell you that bodies in the morgue don't look like they did when they were alive.
Paler, skinnier without all the organs filling their designated spaces within the crevices in which my father's soul used to live
They shaved my dad's goatee off.
That was all I could think about because I couldn't bear to look at anything but his face.
12 year old me couldn't get over the fact that it didn't look like my dad at all.
I thought,
well at least when mom died in the hospital, she looked like mom.
She was still warm when I held her tight and kissed her cheek for the last time.
My mom.
My dad.
12 year old me stared at that goatee-less face
comparing my parent's dead bodies
and had the ask myself the question
Who will take care of me now
And who the fuck said dead bodies look like they're sleeping
I've seen sleeping bodies
they are a lot less haunting than what I saw
even a decade later I can close my mind and see them so clearly, yet I can't even remember what the hell their voices sounded like
so fuck you person
you. are. a goddamned liar.

This one, again, me trying to kind of make light of a traumatizing event in my life.

I knew from the start
That this day will come
There are changes along the way
And as day and time passes by
You made me feel needed no more
When frights became reality
My nightmares visits me even daylight
And when the sun comes down endless thoughts and restless nights occur
Love comes in a very unique and unexpected way
And when it leaves
It takes a way a part of us that can never be mended
Some part of it are the ability to feel and think simply
Like the simple questions with simple answers
But our heart can't seem to acknowledge
What to do?
How to move on?
Tell me what was it that I have to do
To rest my heart
To mend this broken heart?
I can never utter the word
"Goodbye"

#you came too early
And leave so easy
You teach me how to love but not to move on
CDs 4d

All Understanding uncovers
ugliness, usury.
Unifying utopians
uncorruptable,
unmoveable.

Dashing Prophets promoted
promiscuous personalities.
Promethus’s powers
persisted
purposelessness.

Do Postmodern proletariats
protest phantoms?
Puckering proudly,
pondering
paraphrases?

If Egyptians engineered
excessive egoists,
Englishmen evolved
ethical
endgames.

Tradition Rules reformed
rednecks, remobilizing,
romanticizing, recursions
rose
remarkably.

If Caesar costumed
cabals crafted carefully,
Christianity calibrated
circumferential
conflicts.

Vigilantism Unveils unlucky
usurper, undoes underachieving,
unemotional, unconsciousness
unlearning
unhumanness.
  
Every Tadpole’s talents
triumphs titan’s tricks
tip toeing
towards
truth.

with a door set forth
it lay open in his mind
with his hand he waited
it never opened to his eyes

fantasy rules in our heads
when inaction enforced tyranny
upon mortal hearts and souls
dying with every blink

we are just mortal yes?
why do we think actions will fail
when no one will remeber them
they fade as everything does

Live life to breath
And breath to live
My the devil take his hand
From out of my scarmbled brain

So I may choose
With a new foucus to fuel me
I will not be bogged down
By my missed opportunities

all because I am blind
to everything real in front of me
i was living in my head
never outside it

for it was safe...
was...

This was written to communicate my message i really want to get out there... regrets are the worst things to die with

P.s i made all the postive advice lines start with a captial because i feel it is important to draw foucus there, it is not a typo

I am as strong as I want to be, because right now I care more about leaning out and taking in as few calories as possible. Losing the pounds in order to gain 'em back, you know? There's very few questions that truly have a right or a wrong answer, and I believe that with 98% of me. Sometimes a right answer simply means it is socially acceptable and a wrong answer is the truth, so in that situation you'd want to throw away your moral compass, clench your jaw, and hope that the lies that come out just result in pearly, shiny teeth.

you take a sip of something and it tastes like, ummm.. bad. it tastes like deceit, but that isn't totally possible (OBVIOUSLY), so in a literal sense it just tastes like the Coca Cola syrup that didn't have any carbonated water mixed with it. It's sweet, flavorful, but kind of tastes like it could erode my car engine in a matter of seconds, you know?

I feel the sip deep inside of my body, I can feel it trailing down my esophagus (is that what it is?) or maybe just my throat, a tube to my stomach and then to parts of me I better just not try to name out of fear of sounding stupid. fear of sounding stupid drives the majority of things I do, but that's okay, because at least I don't sound stupid.

the sip gets caught in the pit of my gut and I start to feel uneasy. I probably should have looked at the bottle before sipping it, huh? I probably should have asked for a detailed list of ingredients like the responsible wanna-be-vegan I should be? I call myself a wannabe most things. its just the person I am.

I take a seat because I don't feel good. this is going to hurt, this is going to land me in the hospital probably and might take a whole while to get over. this is turning too literal and I'm trying to beat around the bush, so ill just tell you about the time I took a sip of a coke can and a bee was inside and it flew around in my mouth for a solid 5 seconds before I managed to open, spit, and scream. that could be poetic if you really hunt, like I waited 5 whole seconds to get the monstrous bee out of my goddamn mouth, I just sat with a confused look on my face for 5 whole seconds!!! thats a whole giant metaphor! I still swallowed the Coca Cola and it tastes like ass.

IMAGINE THAT people- poison only takes like poison once you've swallowed it.

How quickly she forgot
How poorly I expressed
And either way
We are run away
With the feeling of want which may not keep
And will not if you ask the likes of me

It's true...and this is why time matters to me.

There is a feeling in soul
It plagues my days and nights it seems
A feeling I will not be able to complete
All my longings and dreams

I’m no longer young my body is worn
I’m approaching retirement age now
Yet there are so many things I want to accomplish
To make a difference in the world somehow

The urgency sometimes overwhelms me
I feel I will die too soon
And all my hopes and dreams
Will disappear like a deflated balloon

Will anyone even know I’ve been here
On this earth will anyone remember
There was once a person as myself
I ache inside as I this question ponder

Millions, no billions have come and gone
Down through the eons of time
Most have left nothing but dust
To show they lived, it’s a crime

To know one may pass into eternity
With no one knowing of their passing
Except through a passing obituary
To prove we had lived some day


I feel an urgent need to do something
To leave a legacy behind me
To say to those who come behind
She existed, she was here, a person called Shirley

I understand why the cave men
Left their handprints in the caves on walls
It was to scream down through the eons
I am here, I loved, I answered life’s call

In a hundred years when I am just
A pile of blowing dust
Will anyone remember my passion
For life, my hopes, my trusts

The urgency can be disruptive
I feel like my life will be incomplete
I just don’t want to go down with a whimper
Overcome and in defeat

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