I’m sitting in my room at 12:33 am staring at my computer figuring out what to write and for some reason, I thought of you. The way things ended wasn’t truly how I wanted them to end. It may have seemed like I was being selfish, which I was, all these years I had been taking care of you while things for me were getting worse. It didn’t seem fair that I had to keep helping you when I couldn’t when I can’t even help myself. I told you that I would still be your friend but you just disappeared, perhaps you complained about me, which I understand because you were angry, maybe you still are. I keep trying to forget about you because of how much you hurt me yet I still can’t. So here I am. Now 12:44am.
STAR I come from the stars. No, really, I do. I remember what it was like up there, shining so brightly along with all the other stars. We were family. Then, one day, my star fell. At least that is what I think happened. That is what it felt like… I woke up one day, just a small child lying beneath a tree. I was found by a policeman, and was soon adopted by an elderly couple. At first, I thought that everyone had once been stars, just like me. I soon realized that this was not the case. As far as I knew, I was the only Starman on earth.
remember 1. that even when you don't recognize the person in the mirror, they have your mom's eyes and they look a little bit like your little brother. their heart beats with yours. their fingernails are purple too.
2. that although you don't feel like you belong to anything or anybody, someone is thinking of you and someone is missing you. he loves you, believe him when he tells you.
3. when you don't feel pretty or thin or any of those fucked up adjectives, remember that you bleed and that you are full of blood and plasma and smooth muscle, among other things. you are alive and you are full inside. you know this for sure.
4. that just because you look like a real person and not the barbies on the internet does not mean that you are imperfect. believe me.
5. to breathe. you gotta do that sometimes.
6. to always write. somehow writing helps you to find yourself.
1. i'm feeling better because it hurts you when i'm not. 2. i feel okay because i know that if i say that and i don't mean it, you won't believe me. 3. i'm feeling semi-normal again because you made me laugh - and i didn't even have to make myself find something funny. 4. i miss you when you're not here, and when i'm feeling sad, i don't want you to have to be around me. 5. i might throw something if i admit to myself that i'm not feeling better at all, and so instead, i'm writing this.
A past memory the tedious grind is done now I can move on.
I sit profusely sweating waiting for my name to be called so I can be freed from this monotonous existence Surrounded by my peers placid faces I don’t recognize all wearing the same expression all wearing the same robes creating a bland sense of unity. people stare down at us, strangers surrounding the claustrophobic space maniacal monkeys clap in excitement waiting for the show to start sweat pours down wrinkly faces dripping into squinty eyeballs. The class speaker is ranting on the stage as I zone out, falling down through the cracks in my mind occasionally several phrases slip in after me. none of his words make any sense or have anything to do with me something about believing in the future or maybe living in the moment stuff about changing the world something like that
It's dark and cold. Like the deepest emotion emitting from your lifeless body The roaring waves crash on the forbidden horizon, with every beat and drum like the endless sound of thunder Light can't reach the bottom as it pierces through watery graves.
The sun sinks down into the deep...and slowly slips into a dark slumber. Out of all the things the sea finds floating in the water, She hears screams that echo through the blasting night.
They tried to hide her... They tried to seduce her... They tried to own her... They wanted to drown her...
The boat was full of despair and lust for this girl. But they knew she was everything they could never have. The brick was tightly attached to her delicate ankle as the noose was pulling her down. Her wrists swelled at the itchy rope digging in her pale skin. Her blushed cheeks puffy with tears and abuse.
You ponder on a possibility to slay your fears; they surround you, whispering thoughts in your ears; bound to your fears, these chains, of which you will attempt to escape; but you cant, for your fears control every move you make;
you let the whispers of thought control you; Through this clouded vision, you can see through you are held back while you attempt to flee Now a prisoner, you'll never be free.
fears are the demons of the night convinced that there will never be light upon knowing this You sink through the ground destined to never again make a sound.
I am trailing my fingers along the wall, tired, going home I am sucking my on finger, the scratch made from a loose brick, sticking out from the wall I am rememerbing all of the novels I've read, with the ladies who hide notes to their lovers behind crumbling, loose bricks I am pulling the brick out, watching a piece of paper no bigger that a post-it fluttering to the ground I am picking it up, unfolding it, smoothing it out I am reading it I am dropping the note, running home I am reading the words. over and over again in my head Go away, Natasha. You and your fantasy books, your swirling desires. I never loved you, Natasha Greene, and I know that you loved me, you sad pathetic excuse for a lover. I am walking up to my house, The house that has Greene written on it in swirling calgiraphy over the front door I am getting my key out, door opening already I am hugging, being hugged
Here's the tricky part: We at YWP's Intergalactic HQ have chosen which users have the power to make recommendations by certain actions they take on the site. Whoa. That's mysterious.
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