Writing

What are we made of?

Flesh. Bones. Nerves. Muscle.

We are a cacophony of carrion all bundled together, 

Seen as holy,

Seen as beautiful.

The words.

The comments.

The stares...

It all reminds me that no one cares. 

Can't you see?

I'm not okay.

Because my thoughts remind me that I am not pleased with myself.

I've never understood the phrase

hopelessly in love.

It's in all the books,

it's on TV.

Characters meet their special someone and bam

they're free falling

but they have their safety nets

Under a grey sky a chin bows low

Weary to the sacrifice of time,

He does not note how the sun begins to show

This world has disallowed him of his fundamental right,

If you told me that destiny was real. That everything that would ever happen was predetermined. You know what I would do differently? Nothing. Why should I? Who cares that you were meant to read this? You have, and now it is over.

The important thing isn’t getting over it, it’s showing you’re doing better without them.