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#7I can see your smiling face
Represented on a glowing screen
And I press delete,
As if it would erase the ghost of you.
Enough For YouI love the way your eyes seem way too big for your head, and that look you give when lingering on the cusp of an opinionated rant. Don't get me wrong, you're far from perfect, but you have this ability to pull my lips into a smile. And I could get lost in yours.
And we argue over stupid things like
What happens after we die
As if that somehow matters.
Then you just drop my sentences like used matchsticks into your fire of undeniable faith, and reach for the Slivovitz.
And sometimes I feel more than hard to love. Sometimes your grand adventures throw a perspective that I am not enough. And then you ask why I'm still always sad.
And when I'm reminded of him, always him, and my eyes are veiled and you lose count of the droplets clinging to my eyelashes, your voice is torturously tender; "I couldn't hurt you like he did".
It hurts to fall in love with all these little pieces of you. It hurts to feel my scars slowly fading into memories like ships in the night.
Because I know I'm not enough
And Then YouTonight I don't want to be alone. The dark, an emptiness full of unknowns, threatens my dim and wavering existence. Because I'm so small in everything and still not small enough to go unnoticed. And my head is full of so many regrets that roll like crashing waves.
Deep in my heart of hearts and soul of souls I see blue eyes- bright, painful memory and sharp lies and malcontent. Brown eyes- the things I did to start again and inadequacy and loss. Staring and soulless from the sockets of who I used to know. And my memories churn like turbulent seas, and roll like crashing waves.
All I can picture is this feeling of not being enough. I need to move on but maybe it's the past that's not letting go of me. Maybe I've tried to fight it. Maybe it's all too much.
I'm so meaningless and small and yet they won't let me slip away. I'm so lonely and they won't let me be alone.
And then there was you.
Bucolic SuffocationI'm getting kind of tired of this bucolic town, where nothing ever changes and everything is full of stale memories.
And I'm getting really sick of those arrogant people who breeze in and out, and make me feel inadequate with the life I'm living. In an indirect way, I suppose you were one of them.
At the moment, I'd do anything to be happy, even if it means leaving everything behind,just to have an excuse to never say your name again.
The night, The lighthouseThe night is so long. The night is so long and I hardly sleep without him here. It's nights like these that I had him close to where my fragile heart was beating.
The night is so long and lonely, and my life sometimes feels like an anomaly or an oblivion. Oh eternal universe, so endless and beautiful, oh time, my old friend. Please let me slip away.
On nights like this one I could touch the beauty of forever, that fleeting and perfect thing. On nights like this I was in love, for how could I not have loved him and his easy, wan smile?
The night is so long. I have spent these days in the dark. A year without the sun. A year without my love. Those with words more beautiful than my own have said it, that love is so short and oblivion so long.
The night is eternal for me. There will be no sun while he is not with me. Without him,
Without him I just try to stop the days from hurting.
I try to keep the pain away from me.
The night is so long and I am afraid of the dar
StrengthStrength is knowing that no one can hit me as hard as I've hit myself. I've pulled myself apart and become my own worst enemy. I've hurt myself more than anyone else ever could. And I'm starting to realize that I can't make myself good enough for you. I can't be everything you need or anything you want. So the days pass me by like razor blades and bruising blows. There is no comfort for me. And there's nothing to make the days stop hurting. All I get is that one moment held against you. One moment when all the voices in my head go silent. One moment when I'm not constantly refreshing the feelings of my own inadequacy. That's all there is for me.
Together in what might have beenYou're my
and I am your
Together in curses
without you it seems
to float away
and I can't find
my way back home
Last lamentYour face burns behind my eyes.
I feel myself begin to cry,
because you were everything to me.
and you and I just couldn't be.
An iron lump in my throat,
feel like I'm about to choke.
Hands go cold, knees give way.
Haven't seen you since that day.
I can still smell you in the air.
Feel my fingers running through your hair.
I can hear you say you love me so.
I can taste the regrets of letting go.
There wasn't room in your life for me,
and all the things we could be.
Bitter symphonies of cold lament,
the words I wish you never meant.
Memories bitter on my tongue,
all our moments, every one.
The taste of you in my mouth,
I'm fading, falling, going out.
And silent secrets are all I see,
with the priceless things we won't be.
Your face burns behind my eyes.
Still can't believe it was all lies.
I'm sorry, my darling, for making you bleed.I want to tell you
all my worries inside.
cold regrets and
my dearest one,
I want it to be yours again.
And I don't think I can
looking for you in empty places
getting my hopes up
that you'll see me
and want me
Loving you hurt me.
when you couldn't be there.
But leaving you hurt more.
It was pain,
pure and unadulterated.
And I know my apologies
floating away on
But I'm still yours
I promised you I would be.
I'm yours even when
you aren't mine.
And I always will be.
I know I stuffed up.
I made a mistake.
I know I don't deserve you.
But darling I can't forget about you;
You once said I was the only one for you.
And I want you to believe that again.
The Young, The Wild, and The FreeDear Gabby,
This is a letter that I have wanted to write to you for over three years. I have used countless excuses: No time, no courage, no inherent reason. I have told myself countless times that writing letters to people like you is useless because people like you do not listen, no matter the person, the time, the medium, nor the words. You just do not, or maybe will not, listen. But, I guess in the realm of things this does not matter, because here I am, neither drunk nor sober, writing down my words on a piece of scrap paper you'll look at, but never read.
I was always quiet and you were always loud, and our friends told us it was okay because opposites attract. In public, it was funny. You would laugh and grasp my shoulder when you rambled on and I did not reply, but just listened. However, when we would arrive back at my apartment, it was always different. Instead of laughing, you would yell. Instead of grasping, you would pu
I'm Not a CutterJust because I'm not a Cutter,
Doesn't mean I can't feel pain.
It just means I’m strong enough,
to fight the battle, without giving up,
or succumbing to my own agony.
It just means, that I'm strong enough to go on.
We're Waiting.To be a good writer is to be you. To be a good artist is to be you. To be anything is to be you. Dream. Live. Wonder. Create. And be yourself.
Because you are the one who can make the change that everyone's been waiting for. You can do what others were too afraid to do. You just need a little push, and a lot of hope.
But most of all, you need you. Your individuality. Your uniqueness. Your creativity. Your imagination. And if you tie that all together, you can create something absolutely beautiful. Something new. Something amazing. Something we've all been waiting for.
The world is waiting for the next J.K Rowling. The world is waiting for the next Van Gogh. The world is waiting for the next Beethoven. The next Einstein. The next John F. Kennedy. The world is waiting for you. We're waiting for a change. And who's the say you can't make a change? Who's to say you can't make a difference?
You can. You most certainly can. All you need is a dream, hope, and a little bit of imagination. And
Just Venting"Are you alright?"
"Wow, you're good. Why aren't you in honors?"
Because I know I'll fail.
"Hello? ...You okay?"
"Wow, I didn't mean it. It was a fucking joke...Hello? Hey, I said I'm sorry."
"You don't appreciate anything."
"You're so lazy."
"Wow, what's got you in such a pissy mood?"
"Nothing. I'm fine."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"...Over a month."
"When was the last time you talked to him?"
"And that boy you talked about, you're still with him?"
"He cheated on me."
"You don't trust many people, do you?"
"I trust far more than I should."
"For someone with all these problems, you sure do smile a lot."
I Dream About HerI dream about her, quite often, actually. It's been nearly two and a half years since I've seen her face to face, and it truly does break my heart when I remember the good times. She was one of my best friends, one of the greatest influences in my life, and someone who could make me smile. However, all good things must come to an end eventually.
Drugs don't just affect you, they affect your friends. When you've been roped into the bad crowd and refuse to turn to the people who love you most, you're going to lose everything you care about. Well, I cared for her, alright. We were nearly as inseparable as Sempai and I, hanging out nearly 24/7. Sure, there were fights, but every friend has a fight. It's when the line is drawn that things get messy.
In my dreams, I remember how she used to be, how fun she was, how silly she acted, and how she was just pleasant to have around. What happened? Why did she decide to go the way she went? To turn to lying, drug abusing, and overall not caring for
Have you ever had the feeling...Have you ever had the feeling like you just don't know what to do? Where you just can't even think of what to say or who to talk to? Like you're being torn between two sides and you just don't know who to pick? Like if you make one wrong move, you'll be sent down a slippery slope with no return?
I feel like this every day. I don't know what to say, and I don't know what not to say. I don't know who I should and shouldn't be talking to. I don't know what questions are safe to ask, and what ones are better left unsaid.
I can't simply hide away from it all. And I can't simply do something too drastic. I feel like I'm being forced to feel some way when I feel another. Like I'm the bad guy for staying true to myself.
I'll get in big trouble if I make a mistake, and I don't know how to keep going without making one. I'm terrified of the inevitable fates that I see...I can't find a path to a good outcome no matter how much I think it over...
No one tells me straight up what's wrong, I have to
You don’t know me and I don’t fully know you- I only know your story. Sometimes a story is all you need to really know someone, and I’m sorry you may never know me, but I feel blessed to know you.
I... well, vocabulary is very limited and I don’t really think there are words to describe it but, well, I can try. In a way I kind of look up to you. It’s amazing how strong you are; if what is happening to you were to happen to me I wouldn’t be half as strong as you are. That’s how I also feel about Jeth. We often don’t know what we have, and I sometimes think that it’s amazing how people can live without things I take for granted. Like Jeth told me you aren’t able to look at a computer screen; that would seriously kill me. All I ever do is go on my phone and laptop, and if I didn’t have those things, I would I hate every second without them. You and Jeth both are similar in your own ways because you both have more po
CycleI reserve the option to be emotionally born, play, grow old, and die at last once every decade--perhaps every year, month, week, or day.
--J. Shidler 2014-04-06
I Met This Guy and He Was DifferentI'm an outcast. I don't even own any skirts that I can still fit and I only own 2 dresses both of which haven't been worn in 2 years. However, at the same time I don't play sports. I'm more of a nerd if you want to give me a label. Anyway, for the longest time I was extremely honest, ambitious, and seemed to be made of stone. I didn't get sad, or angry, or heartbroken or anxious over things. That angry part changed very quickly, but I'm not even talking about that. When I was younger, if I had a crush on a guy I seriously just told him and everyone else. Considering I've never had a boyfriend, you'er best to assume they've always rejected me. Then came this one year, which I'm not telling you what year, just to sound less pathetic. I met this guy and of course at first it was just physical attraction, we didn't talk. Then one day despite the fact we didn't talk, he knew I liked to write. We had this huge project , we had to write a Choose Your Own Adventure book. He and his best
RunningI've never wanted to run away so much. Just keep running, until I can taste blood in my mouth and breathing hurts and you are so very far away. You stare blankly, and make my heart howl like a wild animal as it attacks my chest and fights against the bonds holding it in. Your gaze is steady, you know how much pain it's causing me. Your lips in a half smile as you bask in my pain. My vision blurs as A fresh batch of tears collects in my eyes, glazing them with my sadness. And you're still smiling, so proud of yourself. So gleeful at the fact that you inflicted this.
A Week Of KissesA Week Of Kisses
The first day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your shoulder,
Well before I thought about your lips.
Because I don’t know what I am doing, firstly,
But more importantly,
It’s because I know things can spiral quickly,
If things start shifting
After we lay down the concrete.
So I kiss the foundation,
Before we reach the soil.
The second day I told you I loved you,
I imagined kissing your elbow,
Because it holds together the touch
And the flex.
To exhibit it,
I must kiss the joint that bends
And combines us together.
The third day I told you I loved you,
I lay my lips to your temples,
As I learned about the temple of reform,
For the Youth in North America.
Kissing you there signifying I will protect you,
As well as your temple,
As we re-form, into something more.
The fourth day I told you I loved you,
I’d kiss you softly on your forehead.
Because that’s what holds your brillian
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More