Back in the small town, we hung around the gas station in the afternoons and at night. We drank cartons of iced tea and laughed about nothing. We watched others live the lives we wanted. but weren't quite ready to begin.
I've thought of records and audio files, Where my voice trails on awkwardly enough, For me to flinch hard as I listen to All the silly problems that I wish to Address in my teenage years, because soon I'll forget myself, I'll forget my youth And frankly? I ain't ready for those sad, Sad twenties and the lonely apartments - If only I had that audio file - I'd pour my feelings out, let them go like Water from a beat down dam heading for The ocean, that water calls me now and Its soft hum brings me down to Earth, but my ****** feelings are still screaming they're still Deeply buried in the sand and the ground It shakes with each unspoken thought I've yet To let out, but if someone doesn't bring A shovel, I might as well keep shaking 'Til I stop hating the sound of my own **** voice.
If I'm itching inside my own skin, If there's a bit of wild carrying on in, around, or perhaps behind perhaps over, around, somewhere besides my eyes, If I seem unseemingly unladylike today, I'm sorry. Scatterbrained? Surely, certainly, you've noticed. If you know me, you know this. I carry on, convincingly all the while my mind careens away. Dangerously, it careens away. Away, attacking the menacingly mundane, away to a place much more pleasant. Plesently, myriad of melodrama unfold. I tell myself stories untold. I'm so sorry I'm scatterbrained, darling. I do know.
A brown haired girl of average height Big framed glasses that cover her face Someone who occasionally wears jeans a little too tight Or shorts a little too short A girl who has a smile on her face 85% of the time To let people know she doesn't bite Someone who isn't necessarily outgoing Who tries her best to be helpful to those around her Someone who has changed their friend group in high school Who has more than one ex An individual with a scar in the center of their forehead With a laugh that some may find displeasing.
What you don't see however,
Is the girl who didn't grow up with everything in the world The ball of anxiety and depression shaped by past experiences The one who goes to work to take care of other people So she feels she has something to stick around for The teenager that has days where eating feels wrong because She wants to feel beautiful in her own skin Someone who loves reading and going fishing in the summer That plans surprises for those she loves just to see them smile Found more friends after realizing positive people are out there A girl who realized being loved, should come with being respected Who tries her best to be kind to others Because she knows that smile on your face might be lying.
So please, Remember to be positive to those around you. Not liking somebody doesn't make you obligated to do them wrong. You can never know someone's full story by looking at their face There is a reason they are who they are Understand that there are always things you can't see.
the romance moves slowly on camera film; a lover crashing through pvc to kiss pavement, windows behind relay a tragedy captured with ***** lights.
i transcribe scripts to my bathroom mirror.
i see no Winslet.
green in my eyes mark an imperfect creature, no feeder's hand to bite.
i speak to my reflection in self indulgence.
i don't have a role to play.
who i am is minors and leads of movies shaped by the past,
but gas on the celluloid makes the memory blur.
feelings died with the character dead in the past.
i just watch people die.
casablanca; temporary love rejected when the bone and the heart shatters.
i don't know who i'll become. i don't know if i'll become.
i used to frequent /r/watchpeopledie a lot before it got banned. i was obsessed with a video of a man falling through a pvc entryway. been on meds and writing has been frustrating. all the reason i had to live has kind of assimilated over the past few months, and as i'm "supposedly getting better", the people who are "in the wrong" have it better. there's nothing. nothing. nothing. why live? i wrote this in a movie theater bathroom.
Cherries and roses, Are the cunning devil lips Honey and milk Are the soft sensitive lips, Oleander and garlic Are the determined lips, Your lips of Peaches and plum Are the honest lips The lips that have gloss that’s poppin Teeth that biting And a tongue that killed a man of intentions
I have a **** for rightcheousness and luxury Help me Help me Help me Dig deep Dig deep Dig deep corner ego it’s turgid. And **** it. Must cleanse myself of this evilness. The corpse reeks of malice. Without it the breath of my soul is aromatic. Must crucify possessive vocabulary. I want I need I I I Hang them on a cross of selflessness. Nail them with actions of helpfulness. Forget narcissism. Forget avarice. Forget being vitriolic. How unbearably odious my behavior has been. I apologize as sincerely as I can. After all we are all cursed being human. All my faults only show how weak I am. Through reflection I have shed light on the faults I am capable of revealing. Yet I have not sought action. That’s how weak I am. “I need help” I say. But the first step of healing. One does by themselves. Seek help. I sit here lethartically. Thinking help will come to me. I’m so tenaciously idiotic. And. To make things worse. I grow impatient and annoyed that help hasn’t found me.
See. I realize this. And I’m so week that still. I won’t do anything about it. I won’t seek help after writing this. I might think I will or think I do. But it’s either two lazy a cry or not one at all. I am repulsive. Yet to blind to accept it as the divine truth it actually is. I say I know myself. I do. But I don’t actually embrace truth as confronting as it is. It would help me. I’m to lazy to face that though. To scared. So I slither back into my pitiful narcissistic chasm. Like so many of my self involved peers. We all realize it. We resent it. But for now it’s a part of us.