(no subject)

[every_x_cliche]

Everytime I would try to scream for help the words would freeze up inside me. I was taught to hold everything inside, until it ate away at my happiness. All the stains on my pillows from tears never meant a thing to anyone. Except maybe me. Someone once told me my best friend should be a pen and a piece of paper, because they would never fall astray. So far he's been right. The only fear I have is failing them. They'll probably be dissapointed with the words that spill from the ink. I'm not good at this, and I probably never will be.

I just want to be significant, someway, somehow.