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your words that day hit me like a knife piercing through my heart,
my heart shattered into a million pieces that moment you told me those words...now i am devasted for the rest of my days...
I despise what you do to me, and how you rip my heart apart piece by piece.
Sitting there, you watch me bleed eternally ,and yet I keep coming back for more. I feel the pain at my very core.
Is it the nostalgia, loneliness or your embrace I crave? Like poison, you slowly kill me from the inside out little by little. Is this what a familar taste of poison is? I've cried countless tears in your name and sake for what seems like an eternity. Wallowing in Agony and self-pity I continue to call out for you. Why is it that I keep coming back for more?
Someone please help me to let it all go, and pick of the shattered pieces of my soul you left in your wake. Will I ever be saved?
I feel the pain, and I see you there. Longing for you kills me still, and I continue telling myself that you are no good for me. After all this time, I still cannot let it go, and move on as it silently kills me like a thief in the night. Craving your embrace, though I will never see you again except in my dreams and shattered memories of excruciating agony. Everytime I think of you, continues to pulse, even after all the scars you left on my soul. One day I pray to find solace. When will I be able to let it all go, and move on?
Loneliness means to withstand every hardship and tribulation that life throws your way.
Also meaning no one is there to help lift you up when fallen to the lowest point.
It means to never to feel eternal bliss or even share a simple laugh with someone you care for. I wish I could purge it all away, and numb the anguish of my soul. Being alone also means that your heart can never be broken to the point of being shattered before your very eyes. Still you haunt me after all this time with your visage and memories. When will it all go away?
The girl gazes at the beautiful, thin girls of the media longing to look like that.
she repeatly tells herself she's worthless and hideous. Feeling even worse, she decides she will do whatever is necessary to fit society's definition of "beautiful". She grows weaker day by day, and yet still sees herself outrageously overweight. As the days go by, her heartbeat and organ systems begin to shutdown from lack of nutrition. Still in the mirror she sees a monster and begins to purge herself of all this pain. One day, she finally looks how she wanted, when she's lying motionless on the floor.
What is on the other side?When you're staring at your reflection, what do you see? It is obvious to most people that you see an
exact image of yourself, but how do you depict that lingering 'image' that surrounds you?
What exactly do you 'see' when you look into a mirror? Light is everywhere and no person can escape
it. The same can be said about a person's feelings no matter how hard they try to cast a shallow mask
behind their true emotions.
Just how fragile are we? There are some who have more willpower than others, but lack in other
departments that help to build us up. What is it that makes you a strong or weak person?
What are you gazing at? Do you perhaps see a strong individual on that other side of the light? Is
there something dark and mysterious about that 'impostor' that you just can't figure out yet? Where
are you? Who are you?
What is on the other side?
Validating Your Tears (I'm Sorry) But what you don't know is that I'm frustrated that I can't write a poem about the thorns growing on my veins and icebergs in my heart. I can't write about the void in me when he no longer plays me Beethoven's music or sings me out of tune songs. Because there's none. I don't feel anything when he left.
Truth is, I want to feel crushed, and heart broken. Because at least sadness can prove that I loved him before and that what he said about me never loving him is wrong. And I don't want to prove him right with being happy.
I want to write something beautiful about him. I want to write a poem because that's what I know, that's the only thing that had me getting my emotions back in boxes. I want to write a poem about us smiling with dandelions on the roadsides and crying without rain to validate our tears. I want to write some
do it.Suffering isn't always pain.
Sometimes its having to itch your finger,
when you wanna strike a match,
and watch it all just fucking burn.
masochist.It's not the simple pain that I enjoy,
it's simply the pain of loving you,
which gives me my sick thrill.
A VentThere are times when I start to doubt myself. There are times where I start the think that my life is not that great and I begin to wonder why I'm still alive. Questions come into my head like, "Why am I even trying?" and "Where is my life going?" tend to prop up a lot, more than I'd like.
When I look at my life, I wonder how I became so broken. What had happened? When did it happen? How am I even still here? I couldn't answer any of those questions and probably never will.
I remember growing up, but never having any permanent friends. Those that came close always left me and I wondered why. Sometimes I would begin to think that there is probably something wrong with me and that everyone had found out, so they had begun to avoid me.
I felt left out and alone. I wasn't included in any social groups or invited to any parties. Oftentimes, I was always picked last for kickball and the kids on my team would often make it as if I we
My Best Friend"A friend is someone who can see the truth and pain in you even when you are fooling everyone else. "
The world is grey when I want to cry. It blurs and shifts as my eyes fill with tears. As the water builds up, it finally starts to flow down, down, down, hot waves on the searing sand of a beach. Lights flicker and distort as I wipe my tears away and try to think its alright. But it's not. Until you appear. You, a bright shining rainbow that spreads light and colour to every inch of my world. You might not know it, but you're the one that keeps me going. You're the one that is always there for me, even when I want to be alone. I love you for that. Thank you for sticking by me. I treasure the memories that we have made, and look forward to the future.
Ataque de estres/ansiedad Empiezo a sentir mareos, así que me voy tropezando por los pasillos buscando un cuarto vacío. Finalmente encuentro uno. Entró y cierro la puerta con llave para que nadie pueda entrar.
Mire la hora en mi celular. 2:34 am. Creo que fue una mala idea ir por una caminata, a estas horas nadie esta despierto.
Mi corazón se esta acelerando y mis manos tiemblan. Me siento en el piso y sostengo mi cabeza con las manos, tratando de relajarme. Mi respiración es anormal, y estoy sudando.
Ahora no es el momento.
Puedo sentir el hormigueo por todo mi cuerpo aumentar.
No, para, por favor.
Puedo escuchar mi corazón latir. Todo parece estar mas alto y mas callado al mismo tiempo.
Mi visión se pone borrosa, apareciendo y desapareciendo. Mire mis manos, las cuales están temblando incontrolablemente. Me siento aturdida.
Esto me ha pasado antes, bastantes veces en realidad. Cuando me siento sola o como una carga esto pasa. Es por eso que odio enfermarme,
How Can I tell my heart that I'm done caring for you, when it continues to beat evermore?
I tell myself that it cannot be, after all that I have come to see. My head says I'm done, but my heart says to continue my stride towards your embrace. I miss your tender, sweet embrace, even though it wasn't worth the pain. When I think about you, my heart still flutters and my stomach gets uneasy. Everytime I think of you, I try to shut it out, and put in the back my mind, but it continues to struggle like a sailor struggling against the powerful waves of the sea seeking to crush all in their path. I hate feeling so vulnerable to even the thought of you. What can be done?
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More