#peoplepleaser - Hello Poetry

#peoplepleaser

“i bite you and my teeth sink deep i silently hope that my violence keeps you away but you don’t stop to pick my canines out of your flesh you just pet my head and tell me that you’re not mad so i bite again because maybe then you’ll see that i don’t bite to protect myself i do it to protect you.”

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May 26

May 26, 2026 at 12:59 PM UTC

“i bite you and my teeth sink deep i silently hope that my violence keeps you away but you don’t stop to pick my canines out of your flesh you just pet my head and tell me that you’re not mad so i bite again because maybe then you’ll see that i don’t bite to protect myself i do it to protect you.”

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She never really thought of herself as a programmer but found herself programming a boy on how to love her. If she wanted him to smile, she would program him to smile. If she wanted him to support her posts, she would program him to do so. If she wanted him to hug her, she would program him to do so. If she wanted him to ask her more questions, she would program him to do so. So on and so forth. execute smile.exe execute support.exe execute hug.exe execute questions.exe execute script.exe execute mirroring.exe execute routine.exe It felt like she could program him to do just about anything. This initially felt exhilarating. It gave her a spark of something within the unbearable numbness & lack of control she felt before she even got to meet this boy. The only thing she couldn't program into him though was, emotional instinct. So even if she technically got him to do almost anything she ever wanted, all executed, & performed so perfectly on paper, it all left her feeling empty because she couldn't get the very main things she wanted & needed the most. To feel the warmth of being loved & chosen in a way that was no longer dependent on endless maintenance. To feel chosen without having to script the moment first. To feel emotionally held without having to manually guide the hands. She realized that she could not get exactly that if every action executed was solely orchestrated by her every request & command. She had thought & hoped to herself: "Maybe if I guide just enough… Maybe if I explain just enough… Maybe if enough correct behaviors accumulate… Eventually the warmth will become & feel instinctive on it's own.” But that day never comes... She slowly comes to the realization that emotionally engineered affection cannot replace instinctive emotional aliveness, no matter how perfectly all the desired behaviors are performed. Despite her emotional emptiness, she found comfort in it as she thought it felt more safer, stable & predictable this way rather than having her requests denied, at least she still gets most of 99% of what she wanted done even if it was missing that 1%. She slowly built an entire emotional survival system around predictability and behavioral control, only to realize it could never fully generate the thing she was truly starving for. To be naturally desired without endlessly prompting, instructing & directing it into existence... To finally see the boy's face light up whenever he saw her... ^That day never came either... __________________________________________________________________ “She discovered too late that love can flawlessly perform without ever truly coming alive. "She could not program natural desire into the boy. Every request he fulfilled whether it was a smile or enthusiasm all felt forced & unnatural. Every action he made felt like it came from a place of fear, perfectionism, people pleasing & performance anxiety rather than a place of genuine desire to." "Which goes to show that even communication & asking for what you want & need isn't always enough." "They may adjust for you the way you want them to, but now you're left wondering, did they actually want to do this? Or is this being done out of obligation & compliance with no life nor spirit behind it?" "There's this lingering wonder of dishonesty in their actions because your intuition keeps screaming that their spirit doesn't match what they are doing." "When you ask them if they actually want to do what you asked of them, you fear that you will never fully get the truth out of them because they may just be saying what you want to hear to soothe their own people pleasing tendencies and fear of failure rather than it ever coming from a genuine natural urge and pull to do so." "I want you to want to. Not because I asked you to."

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May 14

May 14, 2026 at 2:43 PM UTC

jasmine-lee-burke

The Programmer Of Love

She never really thought of herself as a programmer but found herself programming a boy on how to love her. If she wanted him to smile, she would program him to smile. If she wanted him to support her posts, she would program him to do so. If she wanted him to hug her, she would program him to do so. If she wanted him to ask her more questions, she would program him to do so. So on and so forth. execute smile.exe execute support.exe execute hug.exe execute questions.exe execute script.exe execute mirroring.exe execute routine.exe It felt like she could program him to do just about anything. This initially felt exhilarating. It gave her a spark of something within the unbearable numbness & lack of control she felt before she even got to meet this boy. The only thing she couldn't program into him though was, emotional instinct. So even if she technically got him to do almost anything she ever wanted, all executed, & performed so perfectly on paper, it all left her feeling empty because she couldn't get the very main things she wanted & needed the most. To feel the warmth of being loved & chosen in a way that was no longer dependent on endless maintenance. To feel chosen without having to script the moment first. To feel emotionally held without having to manually guide the hands. She realized that she could not get exactly that if every action executed was solely orchestrated by her every request & command. She had thought & hoped to herself: "Maybe if I guide just enough… Maybe if I explain just enough… Maybe if enough correct behaviors accumulate… Eventually the warmth will become & feel instinctive on it's own.” But that day never comes... She slowly comes to the realization that emotionally engineered affection cannot replace instinctive emotional aliveness, no matter how perfectly all the desired behaviors are performed. Despite her emotional emptiness, she found comfort in it as she thought it felt more safer, stable & predictable this way rather than having her requests denied, at least she still gets most of 99% of what she wanted done even if it was missing that 1%. She slowly built an entire emotional survival system around predictability and behavioral control, only to realize it could never fully generate the thing she was truly starving for. To be naturally desired without endlessly prompting, instructing & directing it into existence... To finally see the boy's face light up whenever he saw her... ^That day never came either... __________________________________________________________________ “She discovered too late that love can flawlessly perform without ever truly coming alive. "She could not program natural desire into the boy. Every request he fulfilled whether it was a smile or enthusiasm all felt forced & unnatural. Every action he made felt like it came from a place of fear, perfectionism, people pleasing & performance anxiety rather than a place of genuine desire to." "Which goes to show that even communication & asking for what you want & need isn't always enough." "They may adjust for you the way you want them to, but now you're left wondering, did they actually want to do this? Or is this being done out of obligation & compliance with no life nor spirit behind it?" "There's this lingering wonder of dishonesty in their actions because your intuition keeps screaming that their spirit doesn't match what they are doing." "When you ask them if they actually want to do what you asked of them, you fear that you will never fully get the truth out of them because they may just be saying what you want to hear to soothe their own people pleasing tendencies and fear of failure rather than it ever coming from a genuine natural urge and pull to do so." "I want you to want to. Not because I asked you to."

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My hands and My wrists, scraped from the concrete, and burning from sharp words. My knees, Remembering the gravel scarring them as I knelt. I knelt for her, for him for all of them. My elbows, Thinking about the soft burning textured jeans. Staring with empty purpose. Into the eyes of my oppressors. Now, it's my feet, standing with clenched hands muscles tensed, ready for the next, war.

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Apr 30

Apr 30, 2026 at 9:24 AM UTC

MysticalMistake

Evolution of Pain

My hands and My wrists, scraped from the concrete, and burning from sharp words. My knees, Remembering the gravel scarring them as I knelt. I knelt for her, for him for all of them. My elbows, Thinking about the soft burning textured jeans. Staring with empty purpose. Into the eyes of my oppressors. Now, it's my feet, standing with clenched hands muscles tensed, ready for the next, war.

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The laughter reverberating through me, the feel of a genuine smile tiring my face. That was after my laughter died, when my smile never reached my eyes. Loving myself was all but lies. Then realizing I can do things for myself Making me smile and say the world can burn, And I'll breathe in the flames

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Apr 23

Apr 23, 2026 at 9:17 AM UTC

MysticalMistake

Free to Love (Myself)

The laughter reverberating through me, the feel of a genuine smile tiring my face. That was after my laughter died, when my smile never reached my eyes. Loving myself was all but lies. Then realizing I can do things for myself Making me smile and say the world can burn, And I'll breathe in the flames

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Everyone gets hungry. But it does depend on what you are hungry for. When people meet me they are hungry for friendship But it doesn't last They use your energy, your time, your ability to do things And turn it upside down making it worthless. People took advantage of my kindness. Look where that got me. My confidence has been shot now holding a bullet in my chest They could do whatever they wanted They didn't have to follow the rules. But they would ask me if they could do something. I wouldn't know the consequences and they would beg me to They would plead with me and I'd relent But for them it was never enough. They always wanted more from me. The more I gave the more hungry they became They feed on my will to please them They drank my fear of being a bad friend. a bad human being. Not any more. I've changed And over the years Carefully people have been chosen for my trust. They don't want from me They don't strive to be me They want to be with me.

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Apr 11

Apr 11, 2026 at 12:47 AM UTC

MysticalMistake

Everyone gets hungry. But it does depend on what you are hungry for. When people meet me they are hungry for friendship But it doesn't last They use your energy, your time, your ability to do things And turn it upside down making it worthless. People took advantage of my kindness. Look where that got me. My confidence has been shot now holding a bullet in my chest They could do whatever they wanted They didn't have to follow the rules. But they would ask me if they could do something. I wouldn't know the consequences and they would beg me to They would plead with me and I'd relent But for them it was never enough. They always wanted more from me. The more I gave the more hungry they became They feed on my will to please them They drank my fear of being a bad friend. a bad human being. Not any more. I've changed And over the years Carefully people have been chosen for my trust. They don't want from me They don't strive to be me They want to be with me.

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She said she liked flowers. So he planted them in his garden. She said she liked parrots. So he learned how to hold them gently. She said she liked novels. So he started reading Novels. She said she liked boys who sketched. So he drew until his fingers hurt. She said she loved Billie Eilish. So he filled Billie Eilish songs in his playlist. She hated boys who smoked. He quit. She hated long hair. He cut it. She hated beards. He shaved. She hated rock. He erased it from his playlist. She hated gym rats. So he stayed soft. Then things shifted. The flowers died without apology. The parrots escaped his open hands. The novels became dusty. The sketches turned to smoke. And Billie Eilish became silence. He started smoking. He let his hair grow. He grew a beard. He made rock music his theme. He became a gym rat. Not because he loved those things. But because she hated those things. He says he hates her now. Because he knows he cannot have her. Deep down, he knows.... Not everything you hold stays. But some nights, he still misses her scent. Her lips. Her voice. And in the quietest corners of his mind, she still lives there. Rent free.

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Feb 22

Feb 22, 2026 at 5:30 PM UTC

Borrowed Personality

She said she liked flowers. So he planted them in his garden. She said she liked parrots. So he learned how to hold them gently. She said she liked novels. So he started reading Novels. She said she liked boys who sketched. So he drew until his fingers hurt. She said she loved Billie Eilish. So he filled Billie Eilish songs in his playlist. She hated boys who smoked. He quit. She hated long hair. He cut it. She hated beards. He shaved. She hated rock. He erased it from his playlist. She hated gym rats. So he stayed soft. Then things shifted. The flowers died without apology. The parrots escaped his open hands. The novels became dusty. The sketches turned to smoke. And Billie Eilish became silence. He started smoking. He let his hair grow. He grew a beard. He made rock music his theme. He became a gym rat. Not because he loved those things. But because she hated those things. He says he hates her now. Because he knows he cannot have her. Deep down, he knows.... Not everything you hold stays. But some nights, he still misses her scent. Her lips. Her voice. And in the quietest corners of his mind, she still lives there. Rent free.

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Sensing in snapshots, like all memory— the place she lived, died someone’s grandmother someone’s mother sister lover someone’s relic, left lonely sits time-full and timeless watching grainy tv beside time-empty me Such a good girl she rasps, kind Drugged by praise, I’m made More riding in creaking elevators up and down and up Beside white, gray, and silver shaped by bent backs by disjoints by the rusted curved of dentured smiles cracked wide at socially-indentured me Such a bright girl they chuckle, fond Strung on praise, I’m made Learning age is, on the whole impartial; neutral Palettes of browns and bones and life-scarred bodies, antiqued by time-patinaed flesh, made fragile; sore skin, brittle and torn by uncareful care by unhands Such a sweet girl they whisper, proud Purposed by praise, I’m made Memory is a soul-bible writ fast cast to last; a guide to seal us inside the word-coffins shaped by good bright sweet ghosts well-meaning us to survive until we lay down our heads, haunted daunted by the wheelchair of time Such a lost girl I sob, grieved Burdened by praise, I ache I break I’m unmade

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Oct 23, 2025

Oct 23, 2025 at 2:46 PM UTC

Good Girl Epitaph

Sensing in snapshots, like all memory— the place she lived, died someone’s grandmother someone’s mother sister lover someone’s relic, left lonely sits time-full and timeless watching grainy tv beside time-empty me Such a good girl she rasps, kind Drugged by praise, I’m made More riding in creaking elevators up and down and up Beside white, gray, and silver shaped by bent backs by disjoints by the rusted curved of dentured smiles cracked wide at socially-indentured me Such a bright girl they chuckle, fond Strung on praise, I’m made Learning age is, on the whole impartial; neutral Palettes of browns and bones and life-scarred bodies, antiqued by time-patinaed flesh, made fragile; sore skin, brittle and torn by uncareful care by unhands Such a sweet girl they whisper, proud Purposed by praise, I’m made Memory is a soul-bible writ fast cast to last; a guide to seal us inside the word-coffins shaped by good bright sweet ghosts well-meaning us to survive until we lay down our heads, haunted daunted by the wheelchair of time Such a lost girl I sob, grieved Burdened by praise, I ache I break I’m unmade

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I will be your waiter today, would you like something to drink? In fact, you don't even need to pay, I'll give you more than you can think. All you have to do is be pleased, and I'll feel the work is done. My own hunger stays uneased, yet still I serve one by one.

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Sep 21, 2025

Sep 21, 2025 at 4:15 AM UTC

A People-Pleaser's Table

I will be your waiter today, would you like something to drink? In fact, you don't even need to pay, I'll give you more than you can think. All you have to do is be pleased, and I'll feel the work is done. My own hunger stays uneased, yet still I serve one by one.

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i don’t remember when i stopped having control over my life it’s probably when i said “it’s fine.” when it wasn’t now i ride along in the train, i call my mind yellow seats forming showcasing the fading joy i once felt there’s also a red seat. a concerning seat a seat i never imagined myself sitting in a seat that represents me, as a whole, diminishing away where i had my own personality my own style my own feelings my true and original self a self that will never be seen again

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Aug 18, 2025

Aug 18, 2025 at 10:31 AM UTC

i don’t remember when i stopped having control over my life it’s probably when i said “it’s fine.” when it wasn’t now i ride along in the train, i call my mind yellow seats forming showcasing the fading joy i once felt there’s also a red seat. a concerning seat a seat i never imagined myself sitting in a seat that represents me, as a whole, diminishing away where i had my own personality my own style my own feelings my true and original self a self that will never be seen again

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I know this seems like contradiction But I wish I wasn’t just my fiction I wish they’d closely read my pages And see through my false scenes and stages I wish they’d squint and try to see The text that’s true, that’s real, that’s me Instead they glance just once, so quick Not reading pages stacking thick I made this front, it’s me to blame I hid my truth in fear of shame I feel regret as people glance Towards my false curated stance The narrative that they all read Is someone else, not true, not me, My want for love drove me to burn All that I was so love was earned I crafted quickly my own fiction Showed off my hollow, fake depiction I forged and locked my gilded cage The “pretty” hides the rotting page If someone picked me up right now And saw past all lies I allow I don’t think they could even read The mottled text as truly me Words shifted from their origin The lies, the stains that I poured in Blur with the truth, no one can tell Not friends, not loves, not my own self I changed so much to fit their wants That I can’t read my own **** fonts I killed my truth, now none will see The faded, burned, authentic me

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Jul 14, 2025

Jul 14, 2025 at 2:04 PM UTC

I know this seems like contradiction But I wish I wasn’t just my fiction I wish they’d closely read my pages And see through my false scenes and stages I wish they’d squint and try to see The text that’s true, that’s real, that’s me Instead they glance just once, so quick Not reading pages stacking thick I made this front, it’s me to blame I hid my truth in fear of shame I feel regret as people glance Towards my false curated stance The narrative that they all read Is someone else, not true, not me, My want for love drove me to burn All that I was so love was earned I crafted quickly my own fiction Showed off my hollow, fake depiction I forged and locked my gilded cage The “pretty” hides the rotting page If someone picked me up right now And saw past all lies I allow I don’t think they could even read The mottled text as truly me Words shifted from their origin The lies, the stains that I poured in Blur with the truth, no one can tell Not friends, not loves, not my own self I changed so much to fit their wants That I can’t read my own **** fonts I killed my truth, now none will see The faded, burned, authentic me

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I went to bed early I got eight hours of sleep But I still don't understand why I don't mean to people, what people mean to me I sacrifice anything for the ones I hold close They don't care what I lose, and I'm not often chose I know they don't ask me to but I like to show that I care, I can't help feeling unloved when I'm down and nobody's there I've thrown away people, and money, and time just to make sure my people are perfectly fine But if I speak my mind when I've been insulted then I'm disrespectful and need to **** off then

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Jun 6, 2025

Jun 6, 2025 at 7:32 AM UTC

8 Hours on Empty

I went to bed early I got eight hours of sleep But I still don't understand why I don't mean to people, what people mean to me I sacrifice anything for the ones I hold close They don't care what I lose, and I'm not often chose I know they don't ask me to but I like to show that I care, I can't help feeling unloved when I'm down and nobody's there I've thrown away people, and money, and time just to make sure my people are perfectly fine But if I speak my mind when I've been insulted then I'm disrespectful and need to **** off then

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I caught the deep inky blue of it in bottles labeled 'pleasing' and set them on a shelf next to bowls full of tears and baskets full of unwanted memories. It was cold aching like limbs in the winter sip it, let the ice unfurl, bitter on your tongue, grief catching in your throat before settling into the pit of your stomach, like a swallowed apple seed. one day the winds came knocking all of the bottles down and all around in the broken air, ruptured by the fragmented glass, screams - starved and rising screams shattering bone screams - ringing wild and ragged at last.

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May 12, 2025

May 12, 2025 at 9:27 PM UTC

I caught the deep inky blue of it in bottles labeled 'pleasing' and set them on a shelf next to bowls full of tears and baskets full of unwanted memories. It was cold aching like limbs in the winter sip it, let the ice unfurl, bitter on your tongue, grief catching in your throat before settling into the pit of your stomach, like a swallowed apple seed. one day the winds came knocking all of the bottles down and all around in the broken air, ruptured by the fragmented glass, screams - starved and rising screams shattering bone screams - ringing wild and ragged at last.

Continue reading...

Two Wounds That Haunt My Heart In a hallowed halls of memories, two pains reside, The thought of you and what you did inside. A delicate balance, a fragile line, Between love's deceit and heart's confine. One wound, a ghostly whisper of what used to be, Your presence now is a bittersweet memory. Your words, a melody that once echoed sweet, Now a haunting refrain that my soul does beat. But another cut, a deeper **** within, Is the knowledge of the hurt you brought to kin. How could you tell such lies with a gentle tone? And smile, while breaking hearts, all alone? You saw my pain, and chose to ignore, To hide behind a mask of love's dark core. Yet still, you spoke those three words so dear, "I love you," but did they bring me cheer? Or were they empty vows, a clever guise, Meant for ears that didn't question or realize? For when you shared them with others in delight, Did they hold any truth, or was it just a night? We should have seen, we should have known, Better than to trust a love that's turned to stone. But now, I'm left to pick up the shattered pieces, And wonder why, oh why, did we not notice all the creases.

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Apr 23, 2025

Apr 23, 2025 at 4:21 PM UTC

Two Wounds That Haunt My Heart.

Two Wounds That Haunt My Heart In a hallowed halls of memories, two pains reside, The thought of you and what you did inside. A delicate balance, a fragile line, Between love's deceit and heart's confine. One wound, a ghostly whisper of what used to be, Your presence now is a bittersweet memory. Your words, a melody that once echoed sweet, Now a haunting refrain that my soul does beat. But another cut, a deeper **** within, Is the knowledge of the hurt you brought to kin. How could you tell such lies with a gentle tone? And smile, while breaking hearts, all alone? You saw my pain, and chose to ignore, To hide behind a mask of love's dark core. Yet still, you spoke those three words so dear, "I love you," but did they bring me cheer? Or were they empty vows, a clever guise, Meant for ears that didn't question or realize? For when you shared them with others in delight, Did they hold any truth, or was it just a night? We should have seen, we should have known, Better than to trust a love that's turned to stone. But now, I'm left to pick up the shattered pieces, And wonder why, oh why, did we not notice all the creases.

Continue reading...

I wish I am the chosen one, the one that is so essential, can I be better in the future? I can’t even answer that. Like a mirrorball suspended in a dimly lit room, I will only say, “yes!”, “you can have that” “you can do that”, I would never say no, I don’t dare to, fret that I’ll hurt their feelings, but did they think the same way? this time, the answer is yes. Sometimes, I wish I knew everything, the scent of uncertainty lingering in the air, sometimes, I wish I knew nothing, the taste of regret like bitter coffee on my tongue, either way, I’m a mirrorball the one that’s just there, the gentle hum of unnoticed existence, no one even notices it, until they need it. Like a mirrorball, when it’s break it’s shattered into a million pieces, the sound of splintering glass echoing in the silence, but that’s what makes it shine, the dazzling light refracting through the shards, that’s what gives it attention.

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Dec 18, 2024

Dec 18, 2024 at 4:47 AM UTC

A Shattered Mirrorball

I wish I am the chosen one, the one that is so essential, can I be better in the future? I can’t even answer that. Like a mirrorball suspended in a dimly lit room, I will only say, “yes!”, “you can have that” “you can do that”, I would never say no, I don’t dare to, fret that I’ll hurt their feelings, but did they think the same way? this time, the answer is yes. Sometimes, I wish I knew everything, the scent of uncertainty lingering in the air, sometimes, I wish I knew nothing, the taste of regret like bitter coffee on my tongue, either way, I’m a mirrorball the one that’s just there, the gentle hum of unnoticed existence, no one even notices it, until they need it. Like a mirrorball, when it’s break it’s shattered into a million pieces, the sound of splintering glass echoing in the silence, but that’s what makes it shine, the dazzling light refracting through the shards, that’s what gives it attention.

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it feels like, life is of 3 three things. You get hurt, and they walk away fine. they get hurt, and you walk away guilty. or occasionally, not common. and rarely to ever happen, you both, walk away forcefully knowing that you both have torn each other's heart apart. knowing that you truly want to be together, but it's not worth It. and now you both, are hurting.

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Sep 9, 2024

Sep 9, 2024 at 10:38 PM UTC

it feels like, life is of 3 three things. You get hurt, and they walk away fine. they get hurt, and you walk away guilty. or occasionally, not common. and rarely to ever happen, you both, walk away forcefully knowing that you both have torn each other's heart apart. knowing that you truly want to be together, but it's not worth It. and now you both, are hurting.

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How many friendships I would end- if was honest, about the wounds they caused me. Subtle taunts, and soft jabs, created deep holes of insecurities. But instead, I hold my tongue, and bite my cheek- because I want them to like me.

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Dec 10, 2020

Dec 10, 2020 at 9:30 PM UTC

How many friendships I would end- if was honest, about the wounds they caused me. Subtle taunts, and soft jabs, created deep holes of insecurities. But instead, I hold my tongue, and bite my cheek- because I want them to like me.

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my chest's burning like i'm ready to slam my phone and i'm just so sick of adjusting my feelings revising my words setting up my smiles to keep everyone happy avoid another contrariety runaway from the reality a baby born crying then she was forced to laugh

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Oct 19, 2020

Oct 19, 2020 at 8:33 AM UTC

my chest's burning like i'm ready to slam my phone and i'm just so sick of adjusting my feelings revising my words setting up my smiles to keep everyone happy avoid another contrariety runaway from the reality a baby born crying then she was forced to laugh

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I found hope in every opportunity I made light within the dark I created love in fragile ruins To make up for what was scarce I wore rose tinted glasses Red and pink looked just the same I couldn't recognized the red flags To me, it was only a darker shade I tried to fix what wasn't broken I tried to create without materials That is how I loved and lost If only I had been more careful The cracks and scars within my heart I only have myself to blame I keep loving what only hurts me And love and hurt turned into shame Love became synonymous with pain If it doesn't hurt, it is not love But soon I resented it entirely I had experienced more than enough I thought that if I wanted to heal I should just isolate myself With time, some space and solitude I would not need any outside help Every human wants to be love To me, it was only a privilege It was a choice to ask, not a need or right I interpreted such a rigid image But love is not the cause For ill feelings to come forth True love is pure and positive That gives it all its worth I wanted to be loved yet deprived myself I thought love was just conditional If I didn't give what you couldn't take Not loving me was understandable I surrounded myself with those who loved me Who loved only for what I could give Not for who I am or what I wanted It was the life I thought I wanted to live Then I wondered why I kept losing people And why it became harder to please No matter how much I could give I could not fulfill my own wants or needs Now I surround myself with those Who love not only my company Who love me as I am and who I was I now look at love a little differently

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Mar 20, 2020

Mar 20, 2020 at 3:03 AM UTC

celestinus_eclipse

Love's Interpretation

I found hope in every opportunity I made light within the dark I created love in fragile ruins To make up for what was scarce I wore rose tinted glasses Red and pink looked just the same I couldn't recognized the red flags To me, it was only a darker shade I tried to fix what wasn't broken I tried to create without materials That is how I loved and lost If only I had been more careful The cracks and scars within my heart I only have myself to blame I keep loving what only hurts me And love and hurt turned into shame Love became synonymous with pain If it doesn't hurt, it is not love But soon I resented it entirely I had experienced more than enough I thought that if I wanted to heal I should just isolate myself With time, some space and solitude I would not need any outside help Every human wants to be love To me, it was only a privilege It was a choice to ask, not a need or right I interpreted such a rigid image But love is not the cause For ill feelings to come forth True love is pure and positive That gives it all its worth I wanted to be loved yet deprived myself I thought love was just conditional If I didn't give what you couldn't take Not loving me was understandable I surrounded myself with those who loved me Who loved only for what I could give Not for who I am or what I wanted It was the life I thought I wanted to live Then I wondered why I kept losing people And why it became harder to please No matter how much I could give I could not fulfill my own wants or needs Now I surround myself with those Who love not only my company Who love me as I am and who I was I now look at love a little differently

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Happiness Is found in a dress Compress My stomach Impress the crowd Always say yes Please the people Maybe I don’t want to please But I freeze I do things for you Yet, never for me I’m down on my knees I wheeze “I can be free”

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Dec 9, 2019

Dec 9, 2019 at 9:57 AM UTC

The People Pleaser

Happiness Is found in a dress Compress My stomach Impress the crowd Always say yes Please the people Maybe I don’t want to please But I freeze I do things for you Yet, never for me I’m down on my knees I wheeze “I can be free”

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Everyone is entitled to live and just survive. Everyone deserves the world but not at the cost of his soul. Everyone should be happy with themselves, not change to please the masses. Everyone should be proud to stand out feeling no need to fall in line of conformity. How is it that when I try live my life Try to love my life I always end up saving others at the cost of losing myself...?

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May 22, 2018

May 22, 2018 at 4:48 PM UTC

Everyone is entitled to live and just survive. Everyone deserves the world but not at the cost of his soul. Everyone should be happy with themselves, not change to please the masses. Everyone should be proud to stand out feeling no need to fall in line of conformity. How is it that when I try live my life Try to love my life I always end up saving others at the cost of losing myself...?

Continue reading...

"you treat me better than I deserve" - the sleepy words tumble from your lips except I believe that everybody deserves to be treated in such a way that they think it's more than they deserve. that's where the givers like me become convenient.

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Dec 21, 2017

Dec 21, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC

"you treat me better than I deserve" - the sleepy words tumble from your lips except I believe that everybody deserves to be treated in such a way that they think it's more than they deserve. that's where the givers like me become convenient.

Continue reading...