~The Girl Whose Eyes Always Wandered~
The lack of warmth where arms would be wrapped around her almost mocked her, goosebumps rising on her skin. ••• It was an average day; no exaggerated drops or jumps in temperature..
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And yet she felt so cold. She felt her life was an old, tattered box with little holes here and there for sunlight to just peak through to her. She felt glum and sulky as an average.
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Her problems never went away, no matter what she did. Her life was a tornado, constantly throwing her roughly in every direction but up.
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She was buried under heaps of dirt known as her, regrets and false hopes. She was dead as she saw it, except she laid in a bed rather than a coffin.
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Her only joys in life were far out of reach; beyond her boxed,constricted life. Sometimes they would tease her; hovering just outside her box, giving her glimpses of what she didn't have.
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When it came to her life, her hands were tied behind her back and her weaknesses were bared to whatever brought negativity upon her. She clawed at the ropes, but it only chipped her nail.
She was helplessly falling deep into a pit of herself, and desperately wanted someone to catch her by the wrist before she was too far gone. She just wanted someone.
~The Girl With The Name~
She wanted to scream. She felt the heavy weight in the pit of her stomach that something horrible was about to happen. She was exhausted. Too tired to cry. Her chest constricted painfully.
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Her chest constricted painfully. She was so angry. Angry at the world and whatever controlled her fate. All she felt was pain; deep inside her everywhere, but she didn't want to feel it.
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She didn't want to bleed internally where she was confined and alone; where all her screams and pleas were so mercilessly muffled. If she was going to feel pain, it had to be on the outside.
And she thought herself crazy to want pain, to crave it. She was trapped in a life she never wanted, with no way out; every gateway blocked as her fingertips grazed the doorknob.
~The Girl Who Found It Hard To Breathe~
She laid in bed thinking back to what she did, said, didn't. Whether it be minutes, days or years later.. Her breath caught in her throat and her brain vomited internally.
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She felt panic & anxiety & prayed to whoever or whatever was listening to make it go away.But the only presence she felt were the heaps of regrets unbeatable sorrows on her chest & in her lungs
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She was suffocating herself. Her own actions or emotions were the cause of her own pain.. How twisted is that?
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Almost like we were designed to self-destruct, born for it, destined to it..
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Born to hurt. Alive to die. And she found herself thinking how fucked up the world is.
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Is, not was; I don't care if the rest of the text is past, the world is fucked up; it is not confined by tenses.
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But that's just it; at 03:27 AM you question life and all meaning and purpose, and you curse God and all who tributes to the present world. That's life.
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And on other days at four in the afternoon you will sip a cup of tea and munch on unhealthy foods that your mother always warned you about,
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and you will be content with the world and with life.
You will see that in between the pain and the suffering there is joy and that in between being born and dying there is living; and that that is the true purpose and meaning to life.
~The Girl Who Authored~
The tapping sound of the keyboard lulled her. The blank paper was calling for her.
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Imagine all the letters and just how many combinations existed. She had all the material she needed, all the power to create.
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Words gave her power, they gave her a voice. And she never hesitated to scream in black ink. She wrote of another place and another person. She wrote of happier things and sadder things.
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She wrote of herself in pieces of someone else. She existed in books and in fictional and mythical places. She existed in the ink and in the paragraphs. She existed everywhere she touched.
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Although she screamed through ink, it was not visible to all; her voice could only be heard by those who saw deeper, thought wider...
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So she waited to be sought out. She would only speak to those who heard. She would only voice her thoughts to those who yearned for it.
She authored for those who felt it.
~The Girl Who Lord Daily~
"How are you?" "I'm fine." "How is everything?" "Everything's great." °°°
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Those were the lies she spoke through a smile every day. She was not and never is 'fine' or 'good' or 'okay' or 'alright'. Nothing ever was.
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But she couldn't tell them that. Strangers that were called her friends.. She couldn't explain her life story to them. She knew they wouldn't understand, anyway. No one ever did.
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The words were poison in her mouth. 'Alright' burned her tongue and the forced smile ripped her skin.She was struggling but no one could see behind what she presented them withor they didn't care
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She wanted to scream and cry and pull her own hair but she couldn't because on the outside, everything was okay. She was hurting on the inside. She was screaming from inside,behind the four walls
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She wasn't happy, content, satisfied or pleased. She was depressed, sad, angry, alone, pained. But how could she say that? °°°
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"How are you?" "Oh, same old; depressed and lonely. Pretty much in agony 24/7. How about you?" "..." "How is everything, how's life?" "Eh, just the usual; anxiety, fights, family issues..
..lack of everything a person should have in life. What about you, any news?" °°° Hmm, yes, good old fashioned small-talk. I think I'll do that.
~The Girl Who Bared A Heavy Chest~
She felt heavy. She felt weak.. She couldn't carry the weight. Her chest was full of unspoken conversations and opinions. She needed someone to listen.. To care.
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She needed to be wanted. She wanted to be needed. She had no one because.. Well, she didn't know why.
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Maybe it was because her eyebrows were messy, or because the skin under her eyes was indented inward and darkened due to lack of sleep and overall health.
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Maybe it was because she was strange inside and her thoughts were scattered and her self confidence was faltered. Maybe because she cared too much and clung too tight.
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Maybe because she had no lifeline. Maybe 'cause her lungs were empty and her heart was overflowing.
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Maybe because she loved too much what hurt her. Maybe because she believed in fairy tales but not happily ever after's.She was strange & she couldn't find anyone who found beauty in the odd one
She lived inside out with her emotions flowing from her into the world in waves, but no one could handle her storms.
~The Girl Who Ran Away~
She never asked for the weight. She never wanted it. Thrown upon her were responsibilities, expectations, problems to solve.. Her problems never ended.
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Every time she stepped foot into that retched place, the source of her worries that seem to constantly have full stock of more problems would unleash onto her.
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She hated that place. She knew nothing good of it. She knew no reason to remain there; a place that only brought her pain and suffering.
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A place where she could never quench her thirst or satisfy her hunger. It was called "Home"
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She didn't understand how.. How anything. She couldn't understand why she was given the life she had. She imagined God passing around lives, when maybe there was only one bad and one good, and
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the other person must've deserved a good life more than she. Maybe the other person had a better soul, or that other person was Jenny from school; she had a great life with all she could ask for
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Or maybe it was Tim; the class clown with the world's richest parents.Whoever it was, she couldn't help but feel anger towards this anonymous person who was supposedly more deserving of happiness
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She knew her feelings were unjustified and silly, ridiculous, even, but she couldn't help her emotions or thoughts. She was trapped in a house..
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An apartment where a constant dark cloud bloomed over her and sat heavily on her shoulders.
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She would think sometimes that she was in a coma and one day, she'll wake up and she will be someone else, and this terrible life would be just a dream.
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And although that thought seemed appealing at first, there were still people in her lives that she never wanted to erase, and memories she never wanted to forget.
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So she lived on, for the memories and for the people; for that sad old bench at the park that was always there for her and that quiet guy in the back corner of her classroom
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and for the time she went bowling with her friends and the time she spent the day at the salon with her mother. She would live on for the sake of those tiny, insignificant days or nights,
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or even seconds of joy she experienced even if it never lasted.. Even if it went away like dust on an old book. Even if she would live her whole life in sadness for those small possibilities
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She would do it for the chance that she could be better. She would do it because there was no coma, this was not her imagination.. This was her only life and if God handed it to her,
then God knew she could handle it. She would live through more sour and bitter days to make God proud of her just as a parent would be. She would do it, but not here.
~The Girl Who Had Youth, But Didn't Youth~
She was young. The date of her birth proved it... .. But her face did not. She had dark circles under her eyes, and the skin was indented inwards as if someone had punched her, but no one did.
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It was the tons of weight that caused her to slouch her back. It was the weakness that caused her body to visibly shake. It was the guilt that filled her lungs.
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It was the need that laid on her chest. It was the solitude.. Not the alone kind. It was the solitude of not being understood. It wasn't the lack of presence of people..
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It was the lack of trust she had with them to confide in them. It was her God-given life that screwed her over. She thinks God had a malfunction during the creation or planning of her life.
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She wished so badly that she could just trade lives with someone.. Temporarily. It wasn't fair to her. She felt as if the universe was using her as its own, personal punching bag.
She was so young, and yet her problems and tragedies were that of many people. She was a tragedy.
~The Girl Who Held A Cigarette Between Her Fingers~
She breathed the intoxication into her lungs as her eyes squinted into the smoke. The wind blew through her hair harshly and nipped every bare patch of skin on display.
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The horrid tragedy of a creation both killed her at the same time that it was her lifeline. It provided a sense of stability. She needed it when her emotions were unbalanced
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and her thoughts were jumbled. The feeling she got as her lungs expanded while she inhaled the thick smoke was something she yearned for; she thirsted it as H2O and breathed it as oxygen.
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She hated being so vulnerable to the addiction, she didn't want to be in the control of an object; she had more respect for herself than that. But she couldn't. She just couldn't.
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Until she found something that gave her the sane serenity and content, her lips would remain puckered around the butt of a cigarette.Perhaps one day she could breathe someone as she breathedsmoke
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And perhaps she could be addicted to someone as she was to the familiar tobacco, And perhaps she could one day not need to turn to artificial comfort, perhaps she could be happy.
~The Girl Who Never Mattered~
She had a brain, a mind, a soul and a heart. They all worked just fine. People didn't seem to think that. She handled situations well She thought deep, hard and logically..
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No one thought of that. They saw her as.. maybe an insect or a child. She was neither. She was never the one in her family who people would go to for advise, opinion or perspective.
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She was simply a bridge from one knowledgeable person to another. Perhaps people deemed her useless, her thoughts ridiculous, her plans silly.
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She didn't know exactly why she was the outsider when it came to those kinds of situations. She didn't know why in a group of people, her words were the only ones interrupted or dismissed.
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Her presence in an important or serious discussion was unneeded, unnecessary and non obligatory. Her imagine was one of a sensitive and irrational ball of hormones and fur.
She was the outsider, the third wheel, the underdog, the last one standing.She was the one whose presence always went unnoticed, you'd think she had a cloak of invisibility. She was invisible.