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back to drama and again with the explosions. it's like new year's. loud. hectic. relentless. and you do not sleep. astounding. i was never fond of the noise. the sights, gorgeous. the noise, too much. guns fire and children die. it's not quite the celebration when you risk losing fingers. i hate. i love. i hate. i love. i don't understand. i want to get away. i love. which sucks cause it drives me up the wall and around and around. i vomit a little in my mouth and deliberate for a good minute or so on whether or not i swallow or allow the spew. i can't sleep. what once was such refuge is now torture. it's like replacing a cheap ass, ratty, yet beloved teddy bear with a stainless, new, expensive, state-of-the-art knife. one's worth more than the other and for sure, much more useful. although, which exactly would one like to sleep with?...but who sleeps nowadays... i laugh. i cry. i laugh. i cry. i smile, half a smile. i quiver. i cry. it's not much fun when you don't know what's up ahead. imagine the world's greatest roller coaster ride but the only thing visible are the carts and the few meters of track before entering a cave of mystery and horror. would you ride it not knowing what you're in for? let alone, knowing if it's safe. new years is a bust when your's is too heavy and you slump forward when you walk. the weight of the moon balloons doesn't help much with the oxygen flow to my brain. could it be why i can't sleep? i give in. i give up. i don't remember anymore why i'm here. i'm lost and he ain't helping. so why do i strive? maybe a knife and a teddy bear makes sense to the slit freaks and emotards but i refuse to entertain such a combination so i play the game i refuse to play. unfortunately, to bench is not an option. what to do when your in the way of a heart that has lost its caution |
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i chose not to write for so long to avoid the bursts of emotions i so faithfully try to bottle up. i believe that my mind plays tricks on me, forcing, pushing that i ought to think one way and yet i feel the other. guess my attempt of creating a lighter, easier, optimistic online journal was a waste of time. i'm a drama queen minus the flash, grace, and femininity. i'm a poet, a broken heart, a curious cat, a whistler, a beat down, a girl, a secret. i refuse to allow anyone in. i prefer the persona everybody has adapted to. no way would i have been misconstrued. i think it's better that way. i wish i could be more of what's expected of a "woman." even the way i talk is harsh and unruly. i don't always mean to but the dialect i prefer is my native language. i guess for an english speaking country, the only proper way to converse in a mature and intelligent manner is to keep with the english and the soft spoken tone. i also have to learn how to sit and lose the chub i got. i ain't big. i just got the unwanted flabs that just add to this insecure little whiny baby in me...haha!..guess, i'm just really good at hiding things. oh but except from the commander man. he knows. and it bugs me that he does. i want to hide it. damn it. he can tell. he can sense. we're getting too close...haha!...it's funny..we're too close but i miss him like crazy..i think i lost him a long time ago.. the person he has become is someone i don't know...and again, another funny..this person i don't know is the very person i love with everything in me...i'm on a roll,boy i miss him. us. whatever the hell we were when we didn't have a care...after he messed up it never was the same...something died in me...and i'm just not who i used to be...we're strangers in love..or well at least i know i'm in love...i always will be...i have a good heart, i know that now..it's my blessing and my curse... i keep moving. he breathes down my neck shivers down my spine, i freeze. he leaves, i crumble into the usual wreck i chase. i love. he's my tease. takes my hand. a kiss. a slap a warmth i long for and yet.. i spiral then fall into a trap mine, his, i'll never forget.. |
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burn for a yearning you wish he had and wish for a better day there's no other choice, remain sad, mad there's no other choice, no other way he's a sparrow, she's a dove the choice is up to you, sweet he's heart but she's love a leap seemingly quite a feat she's mild and meek, precious to me a feverish yet freezing sensation he's cold but mine, he's all and insanity a flower is one i dare to fashion now i go on dismissing the mundane breaking rules and pretending doing everything in my power to keep sane wondering, hoping, cracking, bending |