(writing prompt)
I look for you in every red car I see. In every crowded place in town. Every restaurant. Every grocery store. Every gas station. Every time I see someone wearing clothes that look like yours, I think it could be you. But it’s never you. You’re a ghost I’ve been chasing my whole life. And I’ll never catch you, because you don’t want to be found. But sometimes I like it this way, because I do not know what I would say to make you stay.
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written: May 23rd, 2018
(writing prompt) Two years. Every two years you walk back into my life. You message me, or see me in person. And all of the memories flow back. All of our memories. You completely unravel everything. All of my progress. You’re my drug, and every two years I relapse. I fall for you all over again. And I wish it wasn’t this way, that I wasn’t this way, but it is, and I am. You completely infatuate me. Over and over. And every single time you promise you’ll stay. And every single time I believe you. And every single time you leave. You hurt me. You cheat. And every single time you come back, you apologize for anything that’s happened in the past. And I always believe that you’re sincere. Even though it always ends the same way. I’m always broken, and you’re always fine. You always move on. While I dwell on it for the first year that you’re gone. How could I let you back in? How could I blindly trust you again? I guess you’re my shitty forever, and I’m just your muse. I wish I never met you. All you do is make me constantly check my phone. You make me look for you every time I go out. You make me miss you. And you tell me you miss me, you say you hope we will be friends. And when you say those things, I remember everything nice about you. I believe you. Just to be destroyed. Over and over. Writing Prompt: part 2. INFECTED.
written: May 24th, 2018 I wake up in an empty room. The lights are dim. There’s a few crappy beds in here, and I’m on one. I hear a man to my right, whispering to himself in a corner. “We’re all gonna die” over and over, grabbing at his hair while he says it. “Excuse me, what?” I say to him. He slowly turns around, and looks at me. The whites of his eyes were deep red, almost black. What was wrong with him? I hear screaming coming from outside the door to my left. What the hell? The door is flung open, and another younger man is thrown inside, “PLEASE!” he yells. But the two men hit him, then leave and close the door. There’s three loud clicks, signaling that the door is now locked. The young man is laying on the ground, crying. The old man in the corner begins speaking to himself again, “we’re all gonna die” getting louder and louder each time. “What the hell is going on?!” I yell. He goes quiet, and says to me “We all have it in here. We are all infected. And they gave it to us. We are all gonna die.” By this point, I’m freaking out. Writing Prompt: part 1. BANG!
written: May 24th, 2018 The streets are lonely at night. Quiet, peaceful. Wonderful, really. No one is around to bother you. But tonight I had an odd feeling. Maybe something cool might happen. I’m not looking where I walk, and step into a big puddle. Great. Now my shoe is wet. Suddenly, I hear a loud siren. What is happening? I begin to run. But where will I go? *ring, ring* Who’s calling me? I stop running and check, it’s an unknown number. F that, I’m not answering. *BANG!* Now I’m laying in the street. I can’t move. What’s happening? There’s a pain in the side of my stomach. I touch it, but I wince in pain. I take a look and my hand is covered in blood. Im getting light headed, then I hear a car pull up to me. “H...help” I manage. But right when they grab me, I black out. (written 11/18/18)
He palmed my breasts the way mothers knead on bread dough Warming me up and stretching me out so I don’t become flat bread Adding an extra pinch of sugar on the top to make sure I taste extra sweet written: May 23rd, 2018
(writing prompt) I don’t remember how I got here. But here I am, sitting alone in the woods. Makeup smeared on my face, feeling exhausted. Body numb, mind number. Just sitting on the dirty ground staring at a moss covered tree. Maybe I came here to get away from people. Away from you. Away from myself. How did I get so dirty? It’s all over my pant legs, all over my sleeves. It’s under my nails. My hair’s a mess. Jacket torn. Was I drunk? No, I don’t drink. Was I high? No, I don’t think so either. You tricked me. Played me. Left me. How could you? You promised, “I’ll always be here.” Where are you now? You hurt me so bad, to the point of wanting to die. And the worst part is, I still wanted you. What is wrong with me? Am I sick? I was pushed too far, then in the time I needed you most, you left me. You shoved me into darkness. Where’d the light go? All the bitter moments in life is just medicine from the universe.
“Nobody understands depression”
me: I understand that it’s like trying to swim up for air, but you’re tied to a rock at the bottom of the ocean. And you see all these pretty fish going by. Just living life and you can only watch while you slowly drown. Sometimes I wonder how deeply broken I am. Sometimes I just break down and start crying for a while. But you can never tell how truly broken someone is.
I bet if you took a microscope and used it to search my soul, you’d find a bunch of tiny cracks on its surface. But you can’t see my soul, nobody can. And there isn’t a microscope strong enough to even attempt to view a soul. I hate that I give so much and get nothing in return. It’s been this way my whole life. And sometimes it’s a real slap in the face. Especially when I’m going through so much in my life right now, and people just keep yelling at me about stuff in their lives. They don’t even consider my story. I just want the same level of respect and common curtesy. That’s all I ask. It’s not hard. Spread kindness.
My “friends” are the type of people that don’t involve you in their plans. They don’t make an effort to try hanging out. They go off with their other friends and do cool stuff. I never leave my house. I try reaching out to people. But they’re “busy” or have other plans. It would be nice for once if they hit me up and said “heey let’s go do something” but they never do. Thanks “friends” you guys are real pals.
Also. I can ask them a question about a rumor going on about me, and they say “oh yeah, I heard about that like 6 months ago” (true story. this really happened with 2 of my “friends”) like thanks for telling me, douche bag. What a true friend. The minute I hear crap about you guys, I tell you. That’s the difference between you and I. I’m sick of my crappy friends and I want real ones. (Photograph writing prompt)
I keep looking at this same photograph. The one she gave me before disappearing that night. I flip it over to look at the back, her beautiful handwriting sits there. “To Landon, who owns all my love. xoxo, -Mia Mae” We’ve been seeing each other since last summer. She was my best friend, I’ve never been so close to anyone. And now she’s gone, and I have no idea how to find her. No idea when I’ll feel her again. Hear her again. Her soft, warm skin was my favorite. Her words drove me crazy, the way she talked was like she was from another time zone. I could listen to her all day. She was so mature and knew everything. Not one of those know it all girls, she really knew everything. She always had everything figured out. She always said the sweetest things, we never fought once. She was perfect for me. And now she’s gone,... my Mia Mae. And I don’t know why she left. She just disappeared. I’m just so empty and alone, all I have left is this photograph (Writing prompt I found online about being an addict. So this isn’t true)
I can’t let it go. It helps relieve my pain, anger and loneliness. It drowns out my emotions. It makes me happy, yet numb at the same time. I started drinking when I was 15. My older sister found out when I was 17, but she promised she wouldn’t tell. My parents were oblivious, and if they knew, then they didn’t care. And I started getting bad. I’d drink until I blacked out. Never knowing what I did the night before, never caring either. I mostly did it alone, occasionally sharing a drink with friends. I started light drinking at school, no one noticed. With every drink, my tolerance grew. Drinking more and more until I hit that satisfaction. That high, dizzy feeling you get. I lived for that shit. My sister finally realized I was getting bad, she yelled at me about not wanting to lose her only sibling, her only little brother. And I know people don’t want me to drink, but it’s my life and I don’t care. It’s what I look forward to every day. I started bringing vodka in a water bottle to my college classes. I eventually was told that I needed help. “Go to rehab” everyone started saying. I was eventually kicked out of college and now moms concerned. “I don’t know what happened to my baby boy,” is now her new favorite line. Now I’m laying in the hospital with alcohol poisoning, and a screwed up liver. Man, I really need a drink right now. I’ve never been one to love instrumental, jazz type music. But there was always something about it that was mysterious. There’s no lyrics to tell you what it’s about. You have to guess for yourself.
It was March 31st, 2016. We were told to go to the auditorium for an assembly. There were students from another high school, all with instruments. But what were they going to play? They played jazz. And one of them stood out to me the most. The saxophone player. He had his own solo and it was magical. Absolutely beautiful. I suddenly wanted to listen to more of him. And only him. I never found out his name, but I found him breath taking. Yeah he was cute, but the way he played that saxophone was marvelous. He put his soul into his solos. When I went home later that night, I looked up multiple saxophone songs. And none of them even compared. None of them were as beautiful as his. And I’ll never hear it again. The sun is hot. Warm beams on my skin. Sometimes there’s a cool breeze that makes it tolerable. The beach is always a nice place to be during the summer months.
When you’re a kid, you go to play in the sand, to swim, or both. When you’re a teen, or even an adult, you go to get tan, swim, and maybe even fish. I’m here because there is nowhere else to go. And this is my comfort zone. The sand is soft and hot, the water is cool and soothing. I like to just sit in the sand and burry my feet. I like to watch the water and listen to it’s relaxing waves. I feel like this is where I belong. Where I’m comfortable, relaxed and feeling free. It’s not stressful here, and it’s great. I love the beach. written: Feb. 26th, 2015
What silly little puppets we are, up upon a stage of disgust. Dancing around as if there were a fool playing us on a string. Playing his little games, making us go throughout our days. Painfully waiting for him to lose interest and cut our strings. Letting us fall to the ground, finally letting us rest peacefully like butterflies in a meadow. written: Jan. 10th, 2018
Do you ever feel more attached to animals than people? Because I know I feel this way. Animals never, ever judge. They can see you eat a lot, change your clothes, smoke, drink, anything. And they will never think of you differently. They won’t love you any less. They won’t be mean. Animals are the most accepting souls out there. They are so kind. People need to start taking notes. Because animals are amazing. No one knows how alone I am.
Physically and emotionally. I go to work, I'm in my own area in the back. I come home, change my clothes moms sleeping, dads working, brothers watching his phone, boyfriends at home. I sit downstairs and watch the TV, nothing I choose, just whatever mom fell asleep to. I go upstairs and write, watch YouTube, or just sit and think. I don't do too much talking throughout my day. A lot of the time I’m just in my head. Alone No one is ever here for me.
No one calls me up to see how I’m doing. No one messages me, or reaches out to me. No one brings me places anymore. No one is ever excited to see me. No one cares about me. (except like the 3 people who read my blog.) I’ve always been there for my shitty friends. And my shitty family. Whenever they’re feeling low, whenever they need someone to listen to them. But where are they now? Why aren’t they reaching out to me? Why don’t they reply to my messages anymore? Why don’t I see any helping hands while I’m down in this hole? Why won’t somebody save me? Nobody will. Nobody ever will. Never ever. (written years ago, but I never wrote the date)
It's dark. Not a soul in sight. She finds herself sitting on the cold, hard floor. "Hello?!" She cries out, only to have no response. She slowly stands up and begins to walk. On and on, it seemed to go. Still no one is in sight, she's all alone. "Where are you now?!" She screams out. "You said you'd always be there!!" She cries out in pain, as she collapses onto the ground. She leans down and places her hands onto the cold floor and begins to cry. One by one, each tear floods the floor. Then suddenly, the tears turn red. She notices, and slightly touches her hand to her face, then looks at her hand. It was blood. She stands up and starts to run. Her foot steps echo in the empty corridor. She trips and starts falling. But there is no floor. She just keeps falling... Dedicated/inspired by someone in my messed up family.
(Written: September 26th, 2017) You suck the life out of everything. Everything you touch, everything you come into contact with. You destroy everything, but you still play the victim. Nothing is ever your fault, you blame others for your problems. And for some reason, most believe you. Maybe it's because you're skinny and pretty. Or maybe it's because you twist the stories so much that it's nothing like the truth. But now you've ruined the family. (Not like you haven't before.) But you've really done it this time. You're dead to me. Written: October 8th, 2017
There are six basic emotions people feel. 1. Happiness 2. Sadness 3. Fear 4. Anger 5. Surprise 6. Disgust But what about “loneliness” ? You can feel sad because you are lonely. You can even be mad about it, or scared. I do feel lonely much of the time. But lonely isn’t even an emotion. Is it a fake emotion? Why do I feel this fake emotion so much? I’m not mad about being lonely. I’m not scared either. One more ore thing I do not understand about myself. Some men are kind and sweet. They do what’s right, and that’s that. They understand right from wrong, and choose the right side because that’s the way to go. And they’d do anything for you.
Some men seem nice, then later on show their true colors. These men get close to you, only to destroy you and do what isn’t right. They turn a little aggressive and do bad things. They lie. They cheat. They drink every night. They don’t move out of the house, even though you have more stuff and two kids. And they throw temper tantrums like a 3 year old. Some men have never been nice. It’s the way they grew up. They come from a home where their dad is abusive and a drunk. They could never turn to their mom because she doesn’t have the courage to leave, and when she does, she doesn’t take her kid. Now he hates both of his parents and starts abusing drugs. And he thinks this is okay because it’s how he grew up, and now he treats women the same way. This is how “love” is shown in his eyes. Some men are greedy. They come from a wealthy family. They’ve got whatever they want since they were born. And they know they have the money to fix everything wrong in their lives. They are hard to talk to because they think everything they do is right. He chooses who he wants, makes them sign a contract, and then has them taken away because he’s done with them. He has a dark side to him. He shows you his “red room of pain” (50 Shades of Grey book 1 reference) and does weird things to you. Some men are good, some men are bad, some men are in between. You have to find the good ones to succeed. Stick with them and you’ll be happy and set for the rest of your life. (Written a long time ago..)
Is it possible to feel numb? Not the cold fingers numb... Just the part where you can't feel. Like me. I got so used to feeling sad, only feeling one emotion. Isn't that numb? I mean, when your fingers are used to coldness, they go numb. Isn't that the same? "How are you?" "Numb." I don't trust many people because I don't feel accepted. It hurts feeling this way. The reason I don't feel accepted is because I feel like I am constantly being judged by everyone around me. Even the people that hardly know me, or don't know me at all. People who know nothing about me.
People are so rude these days. It's rather irritating how society has gotten, and it seriously pisses me off because there are others who feel this way and do nothing about it. They don't call people out. Don't try to get them to stop. They don't stand up for themselves, or let their voices be heard. And what's worse is that the innocent people who are victims to society bottle it all up. Just like I used to. They hold in all of this anger, pain and sadness. And they force themselves to deal with all of these negative emotions. And this is not okay! I was once a victim to society, and I've had enough! I'm tired of being numb to my pain. I don't understand why society has taught people to behave this way. And since when has bullying ever been okay? When was it ever "right" to put people down? Bullies are created by society, and they act this way because they only feel bad about themselves. They think that putting down others will make them feel good, and distract them from their current issues in life. If anything, they need as much help as their victims. |
AuthorEverybody goes through something, and I've been through a lot. Here's my life story: I'm a small town girl, who's got her own issues and doesn't need anyone else's opinion on how to live life. Archives
January 2018
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