"when you reach the end of your rope. tie a knot & hang on" – fdr
you don't know how hard its been to write in here. to face my feelings. go back down memory lane. realize the extent of the pain i've caused. i feel so lonely. its a different type of lonely. one where you know you could have been different. been loved. and one where at the same …
I have trouble connecting two and two together. Never ace me in math. My minds a mess, jumbled thoughts. The future sides with Mercury. Close but dim, the tides are high. Emerging from glares, only when there's a why. Perhaps still invisible to the naked eye. Somethings really wrong with me. Growth is perpendicular to …
I'm struggling with who I am. Straining to turn myself around. Spin on my feet. Feel the wind. I drape the negatives and choke them within. It's a black hole. Where does it all go? Assembled I was piece by piece. Ruined I was piece by piece. Re-build I will piece by piece. Giving up …
She lost her way. She was addicted. Pain gave her happiness, happiness full of pain. She turned off her light. The sun fell to the ground. She burned her hands, gathering the pieces all around. Clouds made way for rain. She drowned. The tide was high. She was unfathomable. Originally written: …
I'm sick and tired, of all the curiosity. My mind's eating me alive, I feel surreal. It's too much to reel in, my boat's sinking. Help. Into the water, I take a dive. Breathing? Unnecessary. I let myself drown, into the hellfire that calls out to me. I see no sign of tranquility. There's fire …
I wish I had a little bit of freedom. handcuffs. …
Why do some parents perceive themselves as more superior than their children? Why do some believe that they could do whatever they want, whenever they want and it wouldn't affect their child? Why do some deem it okay to scream at their child, call them names, torture them, put them down, make them feel inferior …
When my anxiety kicks in the firstmost thing I notice is my racing heartbeat. It speeds up so dramatically that I have to put a hand to my heart just to help calm it down. Then, the shallow breaths. My breathing slows, then races. It becomes inconsistent. And suffocating. Next, the weakness. I can never …
Emile Sandé - Read All About It | Part III | Writing. It's truly a blessing isn't it? I don't remember when I started writing. Or how. But it's been a part of my life since I could remember. Although, I never was fond of keeping a diary (until now) I was always better at …
