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 Aug 2014 xxx
Hanna Baleine
09/29/13
Define Happiness.
      Here I go: I do not believe I know the definition of Happiness. Not because I’ve never truly experienced it before, but because I think of it as a word with a great amount of meaning, such as the word “love”, but is overused and thrown around by mindless children. A boy once told me that he “loves” me. I explained to him that he is sixteen and does not know what love is and neither do I, so please don’t say that you love me. But because I am sure you will not accept an “I don’t know” as a response, I will try my best to define Happiness.
      My kind of Happiness comes in three different levels. First, the top level, the most superficial one of all, is the in between. I am a strange person and one of my strange qualities is that I am the happiest when I am in need of something. Let me explain: I hate being at home. I want to leave the overbearing side of my mother and my desolate home drenched in memories of my ****** past. In November of last year, I needed to clear my mind and visited my brother in Montreal. However, once I arrived in the pale city, I wanted to fly back home immediately. See the problem? I have since then realized that I am happiest when I am in between two worlds: travelling from a city that I hate but grew up in, to a city that I love but am lost in. Another example: there is a boy that I like; and when he leaves my side, I can’t help imagining the moment when he finally grips my hand firmly again. But once that moment comes, I want it to end. Immediately. I want to be on my own. Once again, I am happiest when I am left alone to imagine a scene of being with someone or something that I so dreadfully need but am disappointed when that opportunity comes.
      Second, the next and more profound level of my Happiness is comfort. Happiness here is all about talking about your secrets with people whom you do not truly know yet but share the same history with. You have just met these people and already you speak to them about the spots on your body where you like to cut the most and the amount of weight you lost in a month and the foods you so shamefully enjoy bingeing on and in what ways you’ve thought about killing yourself and the things you were so close to doing such as taking a hammer to your scale because you were fed up with it always admitting that you’re fat fat fat fat fat!!!! However, on this second level, Happiness is also proclaiming that you want Wendy’s because that is what your body is unfortunately craving, and then finishing a chicken sandwich and small fries and diet coke with no ice while sitting in a car, understanding that you will not be able to burn off the hundreds of calories you have just taken in because you are stuck on a five hour drive to visit your dear sister. On this second level, Happiness is putting ******* between your thighs and feeling them touch, pinching your double chin, and rubbing your bloated belly for four seconds then shrugging off your imperfections and driving to school without even thinking about them anymore.
      Finally, the third and most heartfelt level of my Happiness is associated with security. Happiness here is walking through a graveyard and knowing for a fact that you will die soon too so please don’t think you’re stuck like this forever. On this level, my Happiness is the thought shoved in the back of my mind reminding me that there is a blade hidden in a pretty shoe box in the corner of my closet, always accessible and always prepared to cure the pain I can’t seem to rip out from under my flesh. On this level, my Happiness is looking down at my thighs and caressing the scars that I try so hard to hide yet am so attached to because they keep me safe in times of desperation, reminding me that I bleed and feel pain (thank God). On this level, my Happiness is my mortality.
 Nov 2013 xxx
Amanda In Scarlet
The chemicals produced by the brain
Combine and collide
In order to confuse.
I want to defy the formula,
Ignore the reaction,
And choose.
Choose what I want,
Who I want,
Override chemical overthinking.
Overactive imagination plus a little stimulation
Equals lust, obsession, pain.
Perhaps if I try really hard to overcome my programming,
I could be an alchemist of emotional responses,
Instead of an oxytocin ******.
I know, I know
It's arrogant of me to expect to be
The first human being to truly master self-control.
The alchemists of old
Had a better chance
Of turning straw to gold.
 Nov 2013 xxx
IAB
I love how
 Nov 2013 xxx
IAB
I love the way I wear Timberlands and Docs like I'm an original, and I think that they make me seem edgy.
I love the way I hum tunelessly on the bus and mouth lyrics instead of singing them because I can't sing.
I love how free I feel when it's cold, and how I run down the centre of my road when it's dark and spin around with my arms out like angel wings.
I love the way I notice my own little habits and wish that someone would notice them too, then give me a cup tea and let me snuggle whilst wearing a big jumper.
I love the way I think that love can fix people, even though I know it breaks us.
I love the way I refuse to talk about feelings, and yet they are always there, churning on the tip of my ******* molten chaos.
I love the way I hate myself 80% of the time and love myself for the other 20%
And I love the way I find loopholes and beauty and wish for everyone else because I want people to be happy more than I want to be.
I love how I'm not perfect or skinny or pretty and I love how I'll never be loved, but I love so, so much how, even though I've had so many impediments, I've kept going, and I love how, still, through all this; I can learn to love myself.
 Nov 2013 xxx
jacob rewerts
my life
 Nov 2013 xxx
jacob rewerts
Why chase our pain like it is our passion we all end up suffering silently in the end does one life matter over another to some our may to me or doesn't but love tips my charts to your favor to bad you're love is tainted i feel for lies now i guess i will suffer without you causing it anymore  let it be known this is my first poem on a serious subject
 Nov 2013 xxx
Ariel Taverner
As I write upon these stale yellow pages
With a pen ravaged with disuse
I am on a search
A search for knowledge
For feelings
For emotions
For life
For something
I search with condemned desperation
For something I hid with utter care and precision
As well mistrust lust and hatred
The last time I embraced in its tantalising embrace
Ages ago when my heart and soul were still void of knowledge and corruption
I loved as a mother loves her only child
I embraced it as the moon is embraced by the velvet clouds
Yet I hated it as the neglected son hates his father
It gave me so much
Love
Peace
Freedom
Clarity
Trust
Yet took from me eo much
Lovr
Peace
Freedom
Clarity
Trust
Even though it tormented and destroyed my soul
I long and yearn for it
I still search for it
Even after my shattered soul
Even after my condemned destiny
Even after my destroyed dreams
Even after my grotesque life
Even after it all
Even after............... me
I search
With condemned desperation
I search
Contact me if this relates to something you list please
 Nov 2013 xxx
Ariel Taverner
The scars make me and break them
My pain has given me strength beyond belief
My individuality shines like a beacon of  transcendence
Why care I will win nonetheless
My accidents are blessings upon your life
My eyes are the stars that you will never be v like
My teardrops show sensitivity  and self assurance
Air is only chokable by me
Goodbye to all you  ******* haters
I will sink and drag you down then leaving you behind shoot up to my powerful eternity
 Nov 2013 xxx
a flower
12 a.m.
Friday night or Saturday morning?
Depends on your perception I suppose
The thought of me in the back of your mind
as you begin your nightly journey
Play your thoughts coy and we can boost your ego for a bit
But I feel it when you think about me

2 a.m.
You've decided it's Friday night and you have nothing to lose
Time to waste, but you always walk with such fast pace
The moon beams before you, she is your guide
You find comfort in the significance of me there
But you still bury yourself under shadows in fear
that the moon may not shine this bright for you after all

4 a.m.
You're seeing things that aren't there again
Figments of your imagination
You met me in your dreams, you said
You're wondering if I'm feeling alive or dead
Dialing my number
Calling once, twice, three, four times

6 a.m.
You saw me every where, felt me there all night
But it's Saturday morning and you've battled your fright
You still haven't caught your breath, your thoughts dissipate in our last words
It's been weeks since you've seen me and I still haunt your head
Dialing my number, calling once
Hello?

8 a.m.*
There you are, and here I am *tearing apart at the seams

Adding another link to the cigarettes we've chain-smoked in thought of warmth
You try to calm your nerves as I spark the flame of my lighter a metaphor for your soul
To sooth your addiction a metaphor for my being
And you can finally breathe I am your air
As I can truly feel *you are my fire
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