Jordan Rowan Jan 2016
You say stop and I say go
It's the little voices that tell me so
You say yes and I say no
But I hate it when you have to go
I can't think straight but that's okay
I don't have much to say anyway

I'm important and you are too
There's got to be something we can do
Do you like to drive around?
We can listen to what you want to
I'm bored and I don't care
Responsibilities give me nightmares

I say love and you say hate
Hate is easy but love is fate
We talk philosophy and time and space
When passion's real it shows in your face
I'm too tired to even try
The rain is nice but my bed is dry
Faith Jul 30
I see my eyes in the mirror,
But they do not seem,
To belong to me.
They are empty,
Of a different essence.

Straining,
Attempting to find a glimpse,
Of familiarity.
Without success,
My anger boils.
Starting at the bottom of my stomach,
And pouring out my ears and mouth.

A loud bang is followed by clanging.
Glass falls around my feet,
Blood flows from my hand,
Hanging beside me.
The mirror is broken,
And displays me more accurately,
Than ever.
ashton May 14
I didn't choose it
I didn't wake up one day and tell myself
let's be anxious
let's be depressed
let's want to die
let's start self harming
I didn't choose to be like this

slowly my problems
my monsters
became visible
they started small
skipping lunch
making a cut or two on my hand
shaking for a while in school
but I fell

I didn't choose to be this person.
We just get handed who we are.
I didn't choose this.
I never wanted to be that

I didn't want to be riddled with anxiety and insecurities,
to wallow in self-pity and sleep for hours everyday
to stay up all night with anxiety
to steal razors
to eat one-hundred calories and then barf it back up
but that's what happened.

I didn't choose this
I didn't choose
I didn't choose to tear apart my life.
it just
happened
I'm really good right now but in a reflective state currently oof
Ruby Nemo Jul 6
There comes a time in man's gentle endeavors in which their person flutters through. Not perfect, not even close. When all of the essentials are blatantly missing, but nevertheless you chase. And it's not the chase; it cannot be, because that chase is distinguishable from all else.

Though still, the heavy burden provokes. Why? Well, man may claim the uncertainty of such an underdeveloped string of emotions, yet in some fashion this is utterly obscure. If my opinions not be discerned from a folly fool, let my brain be put to rest!

No, I say, it is much deeper than that. When simple dining becomes strenuous, and the tear ducts loose, another vague instance is to blame. It is not the result of a mere first glance. It is not the result of the wave of a hand. Hell, it is not even that which has evolved from a childish fling. It is something called My Person Condition.

And it is more complex, still. It is worthy of noting that a condition is identified in a modified fashion. See that this is no disease, no ailment, no illness. An unfortunate victim has no hopes of returning to their former, less-impaired self, but their opinions are clouded so fully that this, to them, brings upon great advantages. Yet the scars and piercing truths that lurk within MPC prove to be a particularly heavy load for most to carry.

The earliest symptoms may include the following: loss of appetite, perspiration, anxious breathing, spotted vision, hallucinations, reclusiveness, futuristic thoughts, rage, severe bipolar tendencies, self-contradiction, loss of sleep, loss of energy, sorrow, hopefulness, nightmares, and bodily rejection resulting in extractions such as emesis, urination, and excessive bleeding. Patients will also find difficulty in restricting their thoughts to those which do not include their person. The danger that lies within this condition is extensive, but can be overturned with the proper care and medical attention.

Perhaps I have refrained from discussing the most detrimental force assigned to any MPC sufferer, and that is the false sense of progression of mental feelings of stability. As days move on, and nights drag out into the next, new faces are introduced at an increasingly rapid rate. This can be destructive in the sense that the victim will gain a false grip on reality. They will reject further treatment, stand down in a circulation of positive vibrations, and cease to recall the importance of their continuous efforts against their condition.

A day rolls around in several years. They share feelings of gratitude and affection with another being, pretending that their person has left their mind for good. Until the radio threatens to remind them of so long ago, the compulsive nights that were spent in pursuit of an extra pinch of knowledge. Until the box fills the patient's ears with a sweet melodic voice spun from pure gold and coated in the finest finish. MPC revives itself like a flame inside their heart, inside their bloodstream. Renewal flows through their veins at a painless rate - until a grin spreads across their face, their head is turned back around, and there they are.
My Person.
07-06-18
Imagine a Person
just like you
living parallel to you
their life a parallel line to yours
a Person who finds the same thrills as you
loves nothing more than your favorite artist
your passions exactly the same
living your life
singing your songs
painting your paintings
a Person so uncannily made for you
someone that you would instantly click with
someone that would watch sunsets with you
someone you would never let go of till the day you die.
someone impossible
because you just never quite meet
someone you just miss by some cruel circumstance
and you'll always miss them
because you see the thing about parallel lines
they never meet
Willow Jul 21
These are the words I would never tell you,
Your smile, your eyes, your hair, that is just a plus to you, but your personality is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I thought after one year, the crush would be over but I was wrong.
7 years later and I'm still completely and utterly in love with you. You're the person I look for when I walk in a room, you're the person I can mess with their hair and wouldn't care. You're the person that I can throw a pencil at and make you pick it up and wouldn't get mad. You're the only man I trust, and you know how much I don't trust them. But I know I can tell every single secret but one and you wouldn't tell another soul. When you told me you believed in me, a piece of my broken heart went into it's place like a puzzle piece.
Wasn't sure if I wanted to publish this or not but fuck it.


The secret I can't tell him is that I love him :)
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