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You tell them how lovely your weekend was, you tell them how you loved every bit of it, you tell them what amazing memories you created. What you don't tell them is what I told you, you pretend like it never happened, you see past it like it was nothing. I bared my soul to you and you brushed it away. You see me in the eye and don't even mention it. Stop pretending that you care about me or ever did. You hurt me. I fought all my fears telling you how I felt and you spread it around like a rumour.
I confided in you hoping that you'd understand. Instead, you mocked me. You mocked my feelings, and made me feel worse. You made me feel lile I made a mistake, that I was wrong to share how I felt. You knew exactly how vulnerable I was, and you didn't even care. You keep saying how life is unfair and that nothing ever is going to get better. Well, I think that's because you aren't willing to try. I thought of you as a friend, a friend who could accompany me in my misery. To hold my hand, and just sit there while I weep. You let me down, you showed me that you were jist like the others. Like every other person who says they understand, but they don't. Thanks for letting me know that the world...
It's hard to be confident when all your life you've been told that you're good for nothing. This feeling sucks. Looking at my life, I feel like I am going to be an outsider for all my life. I can never start again. Everywhere I go, everything I do, it will all lead to the same destination. The land of lonely and paranoia. I don't want to be here. I'm not happy here.
It is hard for me to explain what's wrong, hard for me to tell you how I feel. Not because I'm embarrassed, but because I don't know. I don't understand. How do I get this out of my head? How do I feel in control? How do I stop hurting myself? There aren't enough to describe how I'm feeling, but I'm trying. Trying to be as descriptive as possible; as optimistic as possible. I guess I just can't. I can't because it hurts and I can't do anything about it.
I want you to hold me, carry me in your arms because I'm too weak right now. Weak because my soul is broken; my knees are trembling and my hands shaking. My fingers can't touch and my eyes can't see. All I know right now is that I'm crying. I'm sobbing with screams of fear. I am shut inside my blanket, lying on my bed, in hopes of being saved. I'm in my room, in my dark unlit room at night. I want to get out, but my feet can't walk. My eyes are closed and my heart is racing. Hold me in your arms and carry me. Carry me out of my misery and into your world. Save me from my demons and drag me into the light. Because I'm too weak. Weak because my soul is broken.
You've been hurt for so long, you don't know what it's like to be happy.
You've been wrong for so long you don't know what it's like to be right.
You've been quiet for so long, you don't know what it's like to talk.
You've been alone for so long, you don't know what it's like to be loved.
You've been someone else for long, you don't know what it's like to be you.
I am never really happy, and it kills me to see people around me trying so hard to make me. I fake a smile, I pretend for a few mintues, bu then I come home. I come back to being the sulky me. Because being unhappy is so much easier; it takes absolutely no effort in being unhappy. It sounds terrifying, to live like this; knowing that everyday is going to rain with dark clouds and thunderstorms, but it's not. This has become my safe place and I crawl under there at every chance that I get. It's tough for me to get out of here. I can't and I don't want to.I want to tell them to stop trying, to stop asking me if I need help getting out. I don't. Sunshine blinds me. I would be just fine here. In ...
The worst part is, when they try to figure out what's bothering me, I realize that it's not them. It's me.
The irony is that I’m writing about how I can’t write anymore; about how I keep pondering upon muses for hours to find only emptiness in my heart. To make things worse, this emptiness also doesn’t let me write. I turn my computer on and stare at the blinking cursor. I type and I erase. I type and I erase, and I do this for hours. I feel the urge to write grow inside me, hoping to shoot like a cannonball. I keep hoping, but nothing comes out. My thoughts are trapped inside my head, screaming at the top of their lungs to get out; the heaviness in my heart turns into physical pain; but I’m still blank, just like the paper in front of me that craves the ink. Here I am, writing about how I can’t w...
I hope you find the love you're looking for. The love that doesn't answer back; a love that is unconditionally selfless; a love that stand stand for itself; a love that can sabotage itself to see you grow; a love that will shut up when you ask them to; a love that wouldn't think twice before dying for you. I'm also sorry that I couldn't be what you wanted; I couldn't give you half of what you wanted, because as much as I love you, I also love myself. And while I love myself, I won't let you put me down like you do. I'm going to stand up for myself when need be. You love me, for crying out loud. I'm not your trash can. Find someone who is willing to be that, someone who will surrender their l...
It's not something that I intentionally do; it's something that just happens-like a reflex. It is my mind and body's first response when someone tries to get close to me, when they try to know me better. It's something that I've been wanting for ages and now that I can finally have It gripped tight in my fists, I'm letting it go. I'm letting all the love I can ever have slip away, just like that. And I'm not just talking romantically.
Call it what you will-a cliché or a phobia. Love scares me, now I know because I'm finally starting to understand it.
Sitting on the dinner table, today I realised how selfish I am. How I let the most important people in my life down, especially when these peo...
All I am is skin and bones
Maybe in darker shades
But definitely with a heart of gold.
All I am is skin and bones
Learning to live as I stumble and fall
Laughing all the way as I grow
All I am is skin and bones
And I cry every time I think of it
Dusty dark corner, is where I belong
All I am is skin and bones
That refuse to give up each time
Yet here I am, weeping all the more
All I am is skin and bones
Says the sad little lass
Hearty at the moment
But a slave to herself.
What makes me want to live for more is nothing fancy, but simple things that matter. The look on my brother's face when I surprise him going home, mom's voice when she tells me that I'm not a bad person, dad's familiar "very good" making me feel proud everytime, my boyfriend's worry when he sees no passion in my eyes and my sister's tears when she finds out that I've given up. Let me tell you that I'm not. I haven't given up and I'm not planning to. This will get better.
What is it about your eyes that make me want you so much? That when everytime I look at you I forget everything else. I know they say this about all the other muses, but you are so different. You are different because you hold my hand when I write. You pour the words on paper for me. And you make me read them aloud everytime. So that I know whatever it is that they say about muses, you will always be different.
I crave for you in ways I can't explain. Like when you reach for the sheets when you're cold. That overwhelming feeling, the feeling that doesn't have a meaning only fast paced heartbeats and jumbled words in my mind. The way when your skin touches mine and I feel like coming home. The way my trembling fingers want to reach out for you and hold even on the days we're not together.
I write so that I don't see myself crying every night to sleep. I write so that the cuts on my arm don't increase. I write so that I don't have to burden others with what I feel. But mostly, I write to set myself free.
You lied and you left. You didn't care and it didn't matter. It's been a long time since, but on days like these, you still cross my mind. I still wonder what life with you would've been like.
Some days, you say it so casually that you don't even notice. Other days, you say it while looking in the mirror and crying. You say it with kohl smeared eyes and smudged lipstick all over your face. You say it when you have little left and that too starts slipping out of your hands. You say it with a gun to your head and you just can't take anymore. You say it when your body is trembling with fear. You say it when you have no hope in your eyes and you pull the trigger.
I have been grateful enough that people have always admired my writing. There have been a lot of factors and opportunities that helped me get to this point. Now, I wish to be a part of someone else's success; give someone a chance so they could shine bright - maybe even brighter than me. I have started a website in hopes of gathering wonderful writings from all over the world and showcasing them. I would love for you to be a part of it too. All the support that has made me strong enough to begin something like this, I'm asking for a little more for the people I believe in.
Visit the website, and share your experiences with me and the whole world. I wish to make thi...
I want to know if there's anywhere that this could go. I feel like we're trapped. What we had is trapped. And the only way to escape this, is to let this go. Let everything go. There is nothing romantic about torturing each other and ourselves, and kill us slowly. Please, let this go.
You look like a movie,
You sound like a song.
My God, this reminds me
Of when we were young.
When you give so much and get nothing in return, it drains you dry. Just like everything else, the soul needs what it gives to refill itself; to be able to give the same abundance of love again. But some people don't understand the essence of it. The worst part about it is that you can't do anything about it. You can only give so much and hope. Hope that some day your efforts will make a difference; your love will pay off. When it doesn't, you're left empty with a hollow heart and suddenly they call you indifferent. Tell me, what is one supposed to do? How does one suck the love out of another? How do you ask for what you deserve? You can't. There's no point. You can't make someone do somethi...
Now is the time I can say life is beautiful. I am officially a writer for the magazine I envied. Why wouldn't I be happy? I'm getting my first pay by next week. I feel wonderful about it. There is no sad part about it anymore. I live above haters. Nothing they say can bring me down. My parents are proud, I am proud of myself. I want the world to know me one day. I want to write a book that they crave, even the non readers. I'm asking for too much, I know. At this point, whatever makes me happy is worth it. For everybody who believes in success and is working for it, don't let anyone get you down. Every second of your life is counted. You are a rockstar. Never Give Up.
You don't realize how lonely you are until you walk through silent corridors or climb up in an elevator with only vacant eyes staring at everywhere you're not. You realize you're lonely when the only things you can look upto are coke and chocolates, when you're only friends are waffers and TV episodes. That's when you're lonely. That's when you cry with the eyes that people have only seen smiling. With everything in your heart, with everything you've unconditionally done for others gives you the right to ask for a hug in return. But you don't. Because you're lonely.
PS. I'm sorry for being such a cry baby lately. Going through a lot.
It is the feeling you get when you're living your dream and yet not living it somehow. The time you feel like you're just a lifeless puppet and bound to the strings of fate. The worst part is that you can't do anything about it. Nothing at all. Right now, you just want to run away from everything, not caring what might happen later or where you might end up. All you want is a life that you can actually claim is yours. Please life, take me away with you. I want to run as fast and never look back and be happy wheresoever I end up.
Help me someone.
Have you ever looked a dog straight into its eyes? Those love seeking, super friendly, heartbreakingly beautiful eyes? If not, then you should, because they have stories behind them. Every different pair has its own story to share; maybe about how they were sniffing food all around but couldn't find any; or maybe how in the storm they survived despite odds; and that one night when the reckless bikers hit them and left them uncared for. Look into those eyes and search for these stories and if you are moved by any of them, then help them relive those moments but with a better and happier memory.
The first day of college, you're not excited, you can't call your mom because your phone isn't working, you're worried if anything might go wrong, you check everything for at least three times and yet there come times when you cry, when you feel like you don't have anyone, all alone in an empty drum going round and round and round. I don't know if I miss anything at all but I have a feeling that something IS missing.
Time is a tough teacher they say. And now I'm seeing it for myself. "Hard" is just a way to describe life. Actually, it doesn't even cover. Four days past now I'll be in college living my dream and yet somehow far away from it. The course is my choice of course, but not the place. After spending 17 years in the concrete jungle, I'm going back again with no escape, no peace. The worst part, the love of my life seems to move away from me with each passing moment. I don't want to lose him. Or any of this. But I got no choice. If somehow I could change times and minds, I would do my best to avoid this lurking regret in my heart because I know that someday, it will entirely consume me.
God help m...
Being happy takes a lot of courage. It's not very easy to smile all the way and indulge in the talks with family or friends. But when it happens, everything in the world attains fluidity. No one can compare to the time when you laugh your heart out and forget all the sorrows. Do not let anyone judge you on that. Love yourself, be happy and enjoy life.
Why is it that the people of this country become patriot twice a year? Is that the only importance our country got? We do not think of our country as a whole and then suddenly one day we become so nationale! Respect the country all round the year, that way you won't have to set the Tricolor as your WhatsApp profile picture just for a week.
Happy Independence Day.