love her

Love her, love her, love her! If she favours you, love her. If she wounds you, love her. If she tears your heart to pieces – and as it gets older and stronger, it will tear deeper – love her, love her, love her!

please hear what I'm not saying.

I hadn't expected to feel like this,
but I don't know why I didn't realise that I did,
until now.

Now I know.
That it wasn't him, it was never him.
Nor was it anybody else,
because it was you.

It was you.
It was always you.

Please tell me it's not too late,
I've screwed up too many things in the last few months,
with everything, and everyone.

Please hear what I'm not saying, please realise
that just because I put up a front like I didn't care, that
I didn't mean it at all.

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Just because she comes off strong,
doesn't mean she didn't fall asleep crying.
And even though she acts like nothing is wrong,
maybe,
just maybe,
she's really good at lying.

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All I need is just
one chance, one kiss, one night,
to show you what you mean to me.

One chance, to show you how we are so alike.

One kiss, to prove we are more than friends.

One night, to hold you tight.

the unqualified truth.

I know to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I love him against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all, I love him nonetheless because I know it, and it has no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed him to be human perfection.

insane.

I would rather die now,

knowing that I tried, than

live a hundred years,

never having failed,

the only reason for that

being that I had done

nothing.

If there really is something more,

more than this,

then hit me.

I want to feel something.

I want to know for sure

that I am alive.

The words you said to me

will drive me mad.

I hear them,

over and over

 in my head,

and will continue to,

until I understand,

or turn insane.

But wait.

Who is to say that those in insane asylums

are the crazy ones?

Nothing proves we are sane, just because

we aren’t like them.

It’s possible that they are there

because they choose to be, they are

so far ahead with their thinking that

they choose to let us believe

we are better than them.

I know it has been months,

but still it’s too hard.

I long so much just to

hold on to that feeling.

That feeling of what we never were,

but could have been.

If you gave it a chance.

That’s all it needed.

One chance.

But you were too afraid,

and I was as well.

I still am.

I wish I could forget you,

what we were meant to be.

I wish I could forget you,

like I’ve forgotten me.

Out of here.

When something doesn't quite work out, I think of you. Because that's when everything began to go downhill, that night so many months ago. Why? I'm not completely sure. I don't even think you noticed I had changed. 

But that's when I started giving up. After that, I gave up on people. Friends, family, everyone. I distanced myself, and I really didn't care, because I realised that nothing mattered enough for me to.

One day, I'll be out of here, and you will either remember me, or you won't. I'm going to meet new people, become part of other people's lives, and I'll be happy. And maybe you'll stay here, or you'll leave. Who knows? I might even see you again, pass you in the street. And it won't be uncomfortable. You'll ask me how I am and I'll honestly reply that I'm fine, that everything turned out just the way it should have.

Right now, I don't feel like that. I feel like every little thing I do, every word I say, could mean the end of something. Of a friendship, relationship, anything. But that's the risk I'm willing to take, if it takes me one moment further, one day closer to a life where I am perfectly at ease.

So I hope you're happy. In fact, I know you are, you're so happy with what you have now, that you don't even have time to stop, and think, about that girl you used to know. It's not like I expect you to try now though. You had your chance.

forget it.

unbreakable.

worthy.

I’ve made mistakes in my life.

I’ve let people take advantage of me,

and I’ve accepted way less than I should have.

But I’ve learned from my bad choices,

and even though there are some things

I can never get back and people who will

never be sorry, I’ll know better next time and

I won’t settle for anything less than I deserve.

an epiphany.

From now on, I'm going to try to be nice. Not that I'm a total bitch now, it's just that I know there are people out there who I choose to avoid, for no reason in particular. It's not as if people choose what they look like, or who they are friends with.
Everybody likes to feel comfortable, wanted, needed. And if they are comfortable with who they are and who they hang out with, then that's fine with me. It really is.

Sometimes I judge people too quickly, by first impressions, by appearance, by social "ranking" (what utter bullshit), and so very often, I judge people by what others tell me. I don't want to do that anymore. It's not fair of me, to make opinions on people I don't even know.

So I know I can't be nice to everyone. But unless you've done or said something that would cause me not to, then I guess there is no reason why I shouldn't like you.

If you look at the bigger picture, we're all losers, really. I mean, everybody dies.

So who wins the game of life? No one.

frustrated.

it’s not that i’m not happy with the way we are now

it’s the fact that i have no idea what that is.

what are we?

you can’t put a label on it

because it’s no way near as simple as that

and that’s what frustrates me.

so tell me.

but if you say that word again

i might just have to hit you.

why?

did it mean nothing to you?

nothing at all?

you know i could have anyone i wanted to, if i tried.

if i really tried, made an effort. but that's not what i'm like.

so how come i made an effort with you?

i chose you.

and now i see there was no point to it.

none at all.

don't you use that seven letter word on me.

don't you even. don't you dare.

it's not enough for me, and somewhere deep inside

you know it's not enough for you either.

what are you afraid of?

i honestly thought that you were different from the others.

i guess i was wrong.

but i chose you.

you.

not anyone else.

you.

why can't you see that?

i chose you.

Just be.

Would it be peaceful?

If I could just be.

If I could merely exist,

as though a river, an ocean,

never ceasing, never ending.

Would I not have to endure

any pain, sorrow, hurt?

Would I be at peace? Or

would it all come crashing

down around me, tearing away

piece by piece

until there is

nothing left but

what there was

before my existence.

Would I be able to move along

with the world, to see, hear, smell,

every moment of time as it passes?

Would I feel the touch of every hand,

cold and supple, warm and dry?

Or would I be as though dead?

Unfeeling, unmoved, as the people and places go on,

ever changing, ever ignorant, of the one thing

that is, but never was, never will be.

Would I be happy?

Or would I be incapable

of any emotion?

Joy.

Sorrow.

Pain.

Anger.

Lust.

Love.

Envy.

All of it, gone. Just like that.

I don't think I could handle it.

So this was me on Tuesday:

So I'm sitting in Study period contemplating what to do for the next hour. It's 9:40 and I'm hanging out for recess. It seems sleeping later and missing breakfast wasn't the best decision ever made.

I could do some maths homework, but frankly, I'd rather die. I have no intention of boring my eyes out, or using any more brain cells than would be necessary.

And I really dislike this teacher. I don't even know her name, and don't really want to know it. I believe the disregard and dislike I feel towards her is mutual. It's not my fault that she thinks every time someone speaks they're talking about unrelated subjects to school. If she actually had ears that weren't developed in the Dark Ages so she could register modern-human speak, she would have noticed that I was clearly discussing the lit-essay that I haven't started working on yet.

I'v decided that instead of doing actual work, which would mean less to be done after school - not that I'd do half of it anyway - I'm going to waste my time writing this. It will give the teacher the impression that I'm being a diligent, honest, hard-working student, while really I'm releasing my pent-up loathing for her on paper in a non-violent, non-combative way. In other words, instead of throwing something at her and her ugly pinkish top which she is wearing over another black top, I get to bitch about her here. I mean what the hell? Who wears two tops at once, unless you're in some forsaken Scandinavian country where the sun don't shine. Why do teachers always wear grey trousers. I can't stand them. They make fat teachers look fatter and thin teachers look...bad.

If I were a teacher, which would be my last resort after going through an Arts degree then realising I had no intention of continuing onto Law, so would have to choose between the equally stressful jobs of psychologist or teacher, where you'd have to deal with several psychotic people that probably hate you, which is probably why I'd choose psychology because then I'd only get one of those people at a time, rather than an entire class of them...
Anyway, I've I were a teacher, I'd make sure to only wear black pants, or skirts and dresses...maybe jeans on free dress days. (Everyone loves those days when teachers come to school looking like they're homeless, or just woken up - when we see them for the people they really are...) Just no grey trousers. Or brown, for that matter. Or pinstriped. I mean, seriously?

In 20 minutes I've written more than I'll get done on my literature essay tonight. Thankfully that's due Friday, not today like it was originally meant to be...

And the teacher is sitting there going through some unfortunate student's homework or assignment or something. She looks like my Nanna - how she looked 40 years ago...back in the sixties, when haircuts like that were still in fashion.

Okay so I think I've done enough teacher bashing for one day. I mean it's not like I even hate her that much. I just don't like it when I get told off for something I didn't do. Like homework, for example...

But right now I really just want to get out of here. I'd love it if I were sent out, even. I can pretty much see people's brains fizzle up and die around me. Please, can someone come in and ask 'Who died?' I'm not even kidding. This class screams funeral. And if I die of boredom in the next twenty minutes then hey, I guess we'll get to have one.