Jealousy can destroy friendships...well any relationships for that matter...
I Can Only Be Me...I can only be me.
The best me I know how.
I know I am different from the rest.
It is a struggle I know now.
I just want to be an inspiration.
Share love without the frustration.
Give me a chance to open up.
I am not an open book.
But I swear I always will try to bring to you good luck.
Karma both good and bad.
Knows no bounds, not a fad.
It is the essence of humankind...
So please try all you can to respect the flow of my mind.
Misguided WordsNever tell someone something meaningful if you do not truly mean what you say.
You are only lying.
UnappreciatedNot everyone truly appreciates the gifts and talents we posses.
Some even thrive off of the idea of seeing us fail.
Stuck Sometimes it feels like I am stuck in time.
Like the world around me is fast-forwarding and I am trapped in freeze frame.
CLIQUESI am not oblivious to certain cliques on this website especially within fandoms.
I don't include myself in them anyhow.
I am mostly ostracized from them.
But that is completely fine.
They don't have to like me nor do they have to accept me.
I am not trying to please anyone, either.
I would rather not be apart of cliques anyway.
I am my own person.
I prefer being free.
FRIENDFunny how a person can tell you they are your friend yet are carrying a dagger behind their back ready to stab you in yours at anytime.
WholeIn order to feel like yourself again, you have to step away from the distractions and anguish that are keeping you down. Only then will your mind feel whole again.
2. LoveHow would you identify love?
Is it a feeling? An emotion?
Does it motivate you? Inspire you?
Does it make you happy?
Does it give you the butterfly feeling? (Pardon the cliche)
Does love make your heart jump?
Does it make you feel as if you are floating away?
Oh please do tell of your experience as I have never felt it.
I have never truly felt or experienced love.
Too many times I have been hurt.
Let down, heartbroken, crushed, lied to.
Maybe I only faced the back end of "love".
The end that no one wants any part of.
And yet as my tears fall, they matter not.
They are tears of anguish and heartbreak.
Never of true love. Never of true joy.
So why do I waste my time hoping?
Anticipating that love will find me.
Hope lost and misguided.
Falsely directed, replaced by wishful thinking.
I know it is too good to be true yet somehow I still believe.
Yet only led to more pain and headache.
From my own experiences, love is the coldest day of winter.
It is the hottest day of summer.
1. IntroductionTap tap tap, click click click. Submit.
How fast can you type? Does it matter?
Just as fast as you can type those words, who honestly reads them?
The harsh reality is that on social media we are simply the words we type.
Digital words typed on a pixelized screen.
We have no face.
No identity. No name. No face.
We are words on a screen.
I have had many accounts.
Live Journal, Wet Paint, Facebook, Tumblr, Gaia, Pinterest, Experience Project, DeviantArt...
Have I ever made a difference?
Have I made a breakthrough?
Do I have a lot of friends? Supporters? Followers?
No. What do I matter?
I am only words on a screen.
Invisible to the millions of people amongst the internet.
Only a username.
When I write, draw, express myself, vent, rant.
Who reads what I write?
Who notices what I post?
Who honestly can say they care what I say?
Unwatched, unfollowed, unwatched, unfollowed over and over.
I have become numb to the pain of rejection.
It has become familiar with me as well.
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
Is It Love?If I hugged you,
would you never let go?
If I kissed you,
would you cherish that moment?
If I reached for your hand,
would you take mine gently?
If I needed a shoulder,
would you let me cry on yours?
If I needed to talk,
would you really listen?
If I needed to scream,
would you do it with me?
If I needed to go,
would you come with me?
If I fell for you,
would you catch me?
or just let me hit the pavement?
TapestryThe morning is a tapestry...
tripping over last night's grace,
I watch you weave your skin
and shake out your hair -
soft teal and jonquil
shadowing your cheek
as the curtains part between your hands.
Threads tangle as you turn,
dawn is a gentle lover,
and the tumble of birds
plaiting their soft notes
lingers on the pillows
where your smile is my undoing.
You Selfish BastardDrink the poison
and pretend as if
you aren't slowly killing yourself.
But that is your intention
and you've dedicated your life
to this self-destructive path.
Married to addiction
and divorced from self-control,
you're willing to let your body die
and force your loved ones to watch
just so you can have
a night of numbness.
Your death isn't going to shock anyone
if you keep down this road.
my grand piano the winds are howling
but I'll stay here
and play my grand piano;
the frost gathers on the panes
and the cold edges into my marrow
but I will stay here and continue
to play my grand piano -
and when the sheet music is done
and the snow has drifted against my door
CultistOne day, we’ll worship rust
and marvel how it claimed
the world of industrious metal,
leaving nothing but slowing
reddening struts, half-hearted
angles reaching outward.
We’ll dive into the wrecks
looking for half-sparking wonders
that, when properly restored, gleam
into sputtering song or splitting
pictures of different worlds
and the faces of old Gods.