(no subject)
Everything that means something will die. It never lasts. It comes and goes like the wind passing through your hair. It then loses it’s meaning, and you stop feeling. You forget it ever meant something to you.
Some people chose to forget what used to make them live. Others live remembering and trying to forget what causes them so much pain. They wonder when it will end. You are only as strong as you want to be. Forgetting is not an easy task. You must live up to expectations others believe are right. When deep inside, you do not believe that is what will make you happy. To you it’s the wrong path to take. There must be something else. There must be another place, another path to take. You are caught up in these expectations, suffocating and choking. You are not able to scream, not able to talk. You become numb to all feelings. Your voice is weak: you are nothing to anybody other then yourself. You are just like everybody else.
You have found that the hardest part in forgetting is facing the truth. The real truth. Which haunts you, which makes you cry, makes you vulnerable. Build a wall. Do not ever let anybody else in. You cannot trust anybody. Spill your feelings out anyway you can. Any way you can bear spilling them out. You do not have to let anybody see them. Keep them close to your heart. The wrecked thing that hurts inside your lungs each time you breathe. The cause of your pain. Spill your heart out. The heart, which no one else will ever get. No one else will ever feel how you felt every day you couldn’t bear letting him go. No one. Never again.
Pain is what you make it. You have chosen to suffer; your heart has chosen to bleed. Your feelings have vanished into paper. Fine lines of sadness and guilt, of loss and sorrow: a slow suicide.
Time goes by. Nothing changes. Events come and go, slowly crossing the walls you have built. They never fall down.
The one who has made your heart bleed in the first place was once aware of your hurt. But the walls built themselves up. Higher and higher, and then above you, and then they closed themselves. There is no little space where any of his words can get to you. You are sealed like a jar. He will never know of your pain. He is happy, and that makes your pain seem to vanish for a brief second. And then, you are still gasping for air through the look of his eyes, through the smile spread across his angelic face. You cannot breathe. He has murdered you.
Find an escape. No one will ever compare to him and the days you lovers were at your best.
You want to feel safe. You want to feel protected. You want to love something. You try. You fail. Everything causes your moods to become worse. You are angry. You are depressed. When people ask what is going on you say you are perfectly fine. Who are those people to understand you in any way? After all, everyone only cares only about themselves, right? Right.
Still, no one compares to him. To his eyes… his deep dark brown eyes that used to see through you like a microscope. To his hair…in which you have once, a long time ago, passed your hands through. None will ever compare to him. He was, and is, your only one.
Nothing makes sense. School gets harder. You don’t believe it will get you anywhere. You try. Oh, how you try, but your trying leads to helplessness. It leads you to believe you are not meant for this. Sadness consumes the days were you have to work to get somewhere you do not want to be. But then again. Where do you want to be? There are times you want to sleep your pain away. There are times you want to drink your pain away. And there are even worse times were you just don’t want to feel anything at all ever again. You do not want to be here. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Dreamland fades when the sun comes out. Drinks and pills fade after the effect they have on you. Everything that means something dies…Which makes you think: “ What do I want?” Is it the nostalgic feeling of being a drunk and a junkie? Or the guilt of feeling like you’re sleeping your life away? Are you trying to make sense of things no one ever questions to the full extent? Are you even that special? You think not. You know not. You are not like everybody else, that, you are sure of. You do not think like any one else. It is the fight to be different. Is it even a fight? Or have you started being different the day your broken heart told you that it would not get over him? Are you becoming crazy? Do you believe your heart is talking to you? You are crazy. You’re crazy for one thing. That thing is his heart. His one and only heart that you cannot seam to connect to anymore.
If you could have chosen your own life at this point, you would probably make it without a heart. Desolate of feeling. Hollow.
The time you spend on words that he won’t get is a shame. And you know it. You just want to find a way to make him be able to look at you; talk to you; touch you once again. At least once. Then you promise you will leave everything behind. One way or another…
He talks to you on the computer. Says hi to you with a faint smile on his face when you see him in the halls. Small things like that used to make you melt inside. They used to make you want to love him forever. Yes, love him. It was such a small word back then. But when you look back, you see that that word meant everything between you and him. It was everything to you. And you can’t cope with the thought that it means nothing to him now. It has been over from the start, he knew it. But he loved you. He won’t admit he loves you, he admits he liked you. You know he loved you. You are sure he did.
You must get over it. You must move on like he has. Tears of anger stream down your face when you think that you don’t want to move on. You want to live with the thought of him still always being there for you. You know it’s all fake, the smile you wear, the things you say. You say you’ve moved on. You thought you would never tell him you moved on. Like that one time you did and it stinged like hell. No, you would never tell him. But you have told him that wretched lie again. You figured he mustn’t care. You know you are wrong deep inside. You know he has told you he would always care.
He gets mad at you for things like this. Not telling him the truth. Lying to him. Lie. You are a lie. You are a fake. You do not even deserve him. You continue thinking that the truth will kill you more then the walls you’ve built up do. You’re killing yourself slowly, not your physical body, but the cells in your brain. All of this by hurting yourself so much. “Stop it, stop me”, you think. You wish for someone to save you. You wish from someone to hit your walls, to break them down. To free you. You won’t let anybody do that though. You won’t. You believe love happens only once and all other copies aren’t real. Just like you. You aren’t real. You’re such a fake. You want to be something else. You want to be you. But you have become this.
Some people chose to forget what used to make them live. Others live remembering and trying to forget what causes them so much pain. They wonder when it will end. You are only as strong as you want to be. Forgetting is not an easy task. You must live up to expectations others believe are right. When deep inside, you do not believe that is what will make you happy. To you it’s the wrong path to take. There must be something else. There must be another place, another path to take. You are caught up in these expectations, suffocating and choking. You are not able to scream, not able to talk. You become numb to all feelings. Your voice is weak: you are nothing to anybody other then yourself. You are just like everybody else.
You have found that the hardest part in forgetting is facing the truth. The real truth. Which haunts you, which makes you cry, makes you vulnerable. Build a wall. Do not ever let anybody else in. You cannot trust anybody. Spill your feelings out anyway you can. Any way you can bear spilling them out. You do not have to let anybody see them. Keep them close to your heart. The wrecked thing that hurts inside your lungs each time you breathe. The cause of your pain. Spill your heart out. The heart, which no one else will ever get. No one else will ever feel how you felt every day you couldn’t bear letting him go. No one. Never again.
Pain is what you make it. You have chosen to suffer; your heart has chosen to bleed. Your feelings have vanished into paper. Fine lines of sadness and guilt, of loss and sorrow: a slow suicide.
Time goes by. Nothing changes. Events come and go, slowly crossing the walls you have built. They never fall down.
The one who has made your heart bleed in the first place was once aware of your hurt. But the walls built themselves up. Higher and higher, and then above you, and then they closed themselves. There is no little space where any of his words can get to you. You are sealed like a jar. He will never know of your pain. He is happy, and that makes your pain seem to vanish for a brief second. And then, you are still gasping for air through the look of his eyes, through the smile spread across his angelic face. You cannot breathe. He has murdered you.
Find an escape. No one will ever compare to him and the days you lovers were at your best.
You want to feel safe. You want to feel protected. You want to love something. You try. You fail. Everything causes your moods to become worse. You are angry. You are depressed. When people ask what is going on you say you are perfectly fine. Who are those people to understand you in any way? After all, everyone only cares only about themselves, right? Right.
Still, no one compares to him. To his eyes… his deep dark brown eyes that used to see through you like a microscope. To his hair…in which you have once, a long time ago, passed your hands through. None will ever compare to him. He was, and is, your only one.
Nothing makes sense. School gets harder. You don’t believe it will get you anywhere. You try. Oh, how you try, but your trying leads to helplessness. It leads you to believe you are not meant for this. Sadness consumes the days were you have to work to get somewhere you do not want to be. But then again. Where do you want to be? There are times you want to sleep your pain away. There are times you want to drink your pain away. And there are even worse times were you just don’t want to feel anything at all ever again. You do not want to be here. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Dreamland fades when the sun comes out. Drinks and pills fade after the effect they have on you. Everything that means something dies…Which makes you think: “ What do I want?” Is it the nostalgic feeling of being a drunk and a junkie? Or the guilt of feeling like you’re sleeping your life away? Are you trying to make sense of things no one ever questions to the full extent? Are you even that special? You think not. You know not. You are not like everybody else, that, you are sure of. You do not think like any one else. It is the fight to be different. Is it even a fight? Or have you started being different the day your broken heart told you that it would not get over him? Are you becoming crazy? Do you believe your heart is talking to you? You are crazy. You’re crazy for one thing. That thing is his heart. His one and only heart that you cannot seam to connect to anymore.
If you could have chosen your own life at this point, you would probably make it without a heart. Desolate of feeling. Hollow.
The time you spend on words that he won’t get is a shame. And you know it. You just want to find a way to make him be able to look at you; talk to you; touch you once again. At least once. Then you promise you will leave everything behind. One way or another…
He talks to you on the computer. Says hi to you with a faint smile on his face when you see him in the halls. Small things like that used to make you melt inside. They used to make you want to love him forever. Yes, love him. It was such a small word back then. But when you look back, you see that that word meant everything between you and him. It was everything to you. And you can’t cope with the thought that it means nothing to him now. It has been over from the start, he knew it. But he loved you. He won’t admit he loves you, he admits he liked you. You know he loved you. You are sure he did.
You must get over it. You must move on like he has. Tears of anger stream down your face when you think that you don’t want to move on. You want to live with the thought of him still always being there for you. You know it’s all fake, the smile you wear, the things you say. You say you’ve moved on. You thought you would never tell him you moved on. Like that one time you did and it stinged like hell. No, you would never tell him. But you have told him that wretched lie again. You figured he mustn’t care. You know you are wrong deep inside. You know he has told you he would always care.
He gets mad at you for things like this. Not telling him the truth. Lying to him. Lie. You are a lie. You are a fake. You do not even deserve him. You continue thinking that the truth will kill you more then the walls you’ve built up do. You’re killing yourself slowly, not your physical body, but the cells in your brain. All of this by hurting yourself so much. “Stop it, stop me”, you think. You wish for someone to save you. You wish from someone to hit your walls, to break them down. To free you. You won’t let anybody do that though. You won’t. You believe love happens only once and all other copies aren’t real. Just like you. You aren’t real. You’re such a fake. You want to be something else. You want to be you. But you have become this.