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mm, how i love the irony.


What you’re not saying is coming in loud and clear.

Your eyes tell me everything,

Including all your fears.

You hate that I know this,

You hate me, I can tell.

You play everything like a game,

And you play it very well.

You hate everything about me,

My knowledge, my life, my face.

I see all your silent frustration,

Inside you’re full of rage.

I say I can’t do anything about it,

Even though I know I’m wrong.

So I walk away like nothing’s happened,

Because that’s what you wanted all along.

Wrote this in my Creative writing class..seems to make sense now.

something i should've known.


your slowly slipping through my grip like the sand through my fingers.
you towering down into the huge plethora of sand at my feet.
that's my memories.
lost in my mind, soon to be erased with new ones.
happier ones.
i don't want that to happen.
but it has to be this way..

and then reality slams you in the face.


     “Get a grip, please, get a grip” she thought repeatedly
 

shaking from the suppressed anguish and tears she had
 

been holding in for so long. She gripped the picture frame
 

tighter and tighter, her knuckles turning white as the
 

embroidered frame dug imprints into her hands. Tears
 

slowly started to fall down her cheeks as she stared at
 

the picture of her past… something she thought was real.
 

 She threw the frame down causing a loud smash as the
 

glass hit against the tile floor. It was the only thing that
 

made sense to her right now. Blood from where the glass
 

hit her began to slide down her hands, lingering from her
 

fingers, and falling rythmatically down onto the picture
 

that was surrounded by the shattered glass. She stared
 

at her hands, minorly cut, for what seemed like forever.
 

The tears falling down her face stung the gashes on her hands. But she didn’t care. It was the only thing she
 

could feel right now. And that was all that mattered. The
 

sorrow that was dripping from her fingers was the only
 

thing that she wanted to feel after what felt so real to
 

her, like a dream, smashed into her face like the glass on
 

 the floor into a distant nightmare; never to wake up
 

again. 
                   ♥ XOXO

our little bubbles.


Why do i find saying its alright when its not, so much easier than letting my true colors shine through?
 Why do I end up giving you the power over me?? I know I am my own person.
I know who I am supposed to be.
I know I can be stronger than this.
But I can't back down. I can't say I lost.
So I am living in my world now;
So perfectly fake..