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Help me choose a title?The guilt eats at my heart
The fear of having to let go
Makes my eyes constantly water
The anger in your eyes
Burns like fire into the
Back of my head as I walk away
It shouldn't have had to end this way
The memories we've shared and the
Bond between us
You swore you'd never break as your
Soft lips touched mine
And now it's all over
It's all I can do to not
UntitledI pause at the opened door and turn around
Your face gleaming like the bright morning sun
The words you used made me feel as if I was flying
High, along with the robins in the far distance
You told me how I was gorgeous,
And the only one for you
A special bond no one could ever replace
Oh, silly me
The gullible, naïve girl who believed
Every foolish word your lips uttered
But it sounded so damn good
I feel your eyes on me and I couldn't help but
Blame myself for being so ridiculously stupid
I thought you meant everything you said
Until you cheated
Who Am I?Each and every day of my life
I am constantly judged
Not by my actions or my words
But simply by my looks
Each and every day of my life
I am constantly ridiculed
Not by the things I do but simply
By the way I choose to live my life
My hair isn't good enough
Nor is my shirt clean enough
Nothing seems to be good enough
For the strangers that walk by me
Each and every day
People glance at me on the street and I try so hard to
Dodge and ignore the harsh looks but deep inside my mind
The words play out over and over
They all expect me to be perfect
Expect me to never make mistakes
Never do the wrong thing
The pressure Oh, God,
How can anyone see who I am
When I cannot even see me?
How to be a better writer!How to be a better writer, or
Even a better artist.
“Trust me”, I have experience,
I’ve been at it for years.
Let me give you a few simple guidelines,
Some that I myself go off of,
And I’ll pretend that my style,
Choice of words, will work for everyone else.
And let’s not forget to mention that
I am a premium member! A beta tester!
A senior member!
Till hell freezes over!
I must know what I’m talking about?
In all my greatness and glory!
I have the authority,
To tell others how to make their art better.
Let’s cut the bullshit here and now,
And ignore those people who tell us our style.
One person, so skilled and great,
With art that all tend to appreciate,
Does not have the right to lead ‘his’ flock,
To determine whose art is worthy or not.
You write one way I write another,
My thoughts are calm, while yours are loud as thunder.
She strokes left, but he’ll stroke right,
Her art his peaceful, but his depicts a fight.
A pencil i
Avoidant Personality DisorderI've never gotten to explain this to anyone before, since every time I try, I break into some sort of sobbing fit. If my explanation sounds a little funky, that may be why.
Yeah. So, I have APD, or Avoidant Personality Disorder.
To summarize, it's a disorder that makes people want to avoid social contact and criticism by all means.
Unfortunately, that includes me.
I didn't know about the disorder until I browsed through psychological disorders for writing purposes, and happened to find it. I matched every single symptom.
Every last one, period. And I believe, wholeheartedly, that I have it.
This isn't your WebMD diagnosis, not when you feel so badly.
It's a really difficult feeling to describe.
Whenever you so much as try to make conversation with any person, you feel like chopping your head off. In my case, you're afraid to say hello. Or goodbye, or thank you, or I love you, or things that people should be able to say without stopping to think.
You feel unworthy o
Entry Four- Step One Almost CompleteStop.
Stop comparing myself to others.
I am different from you, him, her, them, they.
Just because I believe differently from you doesn’t make me a horrible person.
anyway.there are things i know too well about you, and most of them break my heart just remembering them. i knew the look in your eyes right before you would cry, or how it would snap and change from a look of swelling tides to unfiltered rage, aimed directly at me. cause i was the closest thing that you could bruise or throw your words at that wasn't a wall, or yourself. it wasn't damaging you, and as far i was concerned, that was worth a few flourishes or a swollen eye.
the alternative just wasn't worth mentioning or comparing.
there was something not right in your head, maybe the vodka or whatever you drink dissolved a synapses or two, because the notion of cause and effect didn't seem to make any sense, and empathy was just completely lost on you. i did love you, the best i knew how to, the best i could with the cards you gave me. i don't know if you returned those feelings when you were sober and weren't forced to be honest. drunken words are apparently the truths we can't admit when we'
Magic HourMagic Hour
by Kit the Wolfy
I always keep a cool and sunny place in my heart.
A place where the sky glows with the rich blue and pink and yellow of dusk and dawn, and everything is in picture-perfect clarity.
It's my own private magic hour.
And in this magic hour where everything is clear and bright, I take some time every day to reflect.
Reflect on the people I love.
Even if it's hard to continue, and even if I have scars,
My magic hour always heals the pain.
So, every day, I take a little time to retreat into my heart, into my magic hour.
And in that magic hour, I sit down in the grass, lie back, stare up at the shining sky...
And I think about how grateful I am that I have the people I love.
EmotionalA lot of people say that emotions is what makes us human because it's healthy for us to stay happy, joyful, and to always smile. But, what if the table was turn? In fact, is it turned already? Because some people can't feel that way.
What if instead they felt the opposite? What if they felt sad, pessimistic, and always cried tears every day in their lives? Some of them can't help, but feel like that. They feel like they're hopeless, mistakes, imperfect, or not good enough, anxious, depressed, bipolar, tearful, broken, and never going to be the person they dream of being.
So the real question is: Is being any other emotion besides happiness make us human?
NothingAnd the preview shows Nothing, just like the title of this poem.
But what's behind the "Nothing"? If you come closer you will see anything that is, paradoxically, "The Nothing."
Lost!Meandering through a dense jungle, lost in my own thoughts.
Climbing through the thickets, beating back the vines!
The path ahead with its twists and turns, seems to lead nowhere!
Now standing stock-still, scanning the forest rooftop, I feel so alone!
Is there no one who can hear me, as I cry out for guidance?
No one to reach out to, so as to take my hand?
But wait! Is that a sliver of light I see, shining through the darkness?
It is my angel, here to comfort me!
LeavingPlop, plop, plop
The tears stream down my cheeks and onto the
Blood stained jeans I can't bear to part with
"I love you but it has to be this way"
Jesus, your eyes can't even meet mine
Those baby blues stare at the ground so intently
Without this man in my arms
There will be no life within me;
No air to breathe
No ground to walk upon
I can't fly anymore
You were my wings
That have now gone away
A kiss upon my cheek
A squeak of a door
You've left gone away
My legs give way
The tears fall faster
Oh, the heartache
I'll be waiting.
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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