houses. houses that were once full of lights and hopes and laughs and happiness and fun are now abandoned and just sitting there, full of distant memories and echoes of long forgotten laughs ; and the house you might be in right now is ofcourse filled with memories but one day will look like these houses. like the realisation that nothing is forever, even though you want it to be, and everything is destined to be abandoned at some point in time- it haunts me.
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I think I’ve always been a little bit expendable.
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To the weird kids
The freaks
The aliens in human skin
You may not ever feel accepted
You may not ever be accepted
But one thing is for certain is you will still be here.
You will get out of your bed
You will comb your hair, with your crooked part
And brush your crooked teeth
And tie your dirty shoes the wrong way
And carry on about you day
You will feel the need to hide yourself
To make yourself smaller
Less weird
Less you
But dear weird kid,
Don’t do that.
Do not change to make the world comfortable.
Let the world grow accustom to you.
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I don’t know what to call it
I want to make new friends here, but I have this fear that if I go up to a group to try and join them, I feel like I might be shunned. I feel like I have all of my life. Not only do I feel like I might be excluded because of my personality, but now because of my skin color.
Wanting to be me is hard, but I want people, to see what they want to see
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I need tissues in my room because I'm always crying - anonymous
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It has only ever been a few times that I’ve truly had anyone, and all of those times were short-lived.
Now, I am tired. Now, I am comfortable. Now, I am satisfied with being alone.
I have my music, and my music is the only company that I really need.
This entire time, no one has ever stayed. Well, music stays. Music never leaves.
Music loves, music comforts, music heals, music is always there.
Humans hate, humans don’t care, humans hurt, humans abandon.
Too many times have I been used. Too many times have I been nothing but a prop.
I am exhausted. I am all used up. I want to be free. I want to be loved, loved by me.
They were bored, they never cared, they misunderstood, well they never tried to understand.
I am composed of all the effort I deserve. The only thing I need is my own love.
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Me&mydog&apossibleview
The turn of the ignition key and the rumble of the engine into life
Crunching gravel under tyres
The car pulls away
And I’m sitting on my own, in the silence of the front door just closed.
I breathe in and out and the feeling ripples from my chest,
A trembling through my stomach
Goose bumps along my arms
Restlessness in my legs.
Sucking my cheeks between my teeth
Tongue glued to the roof of my mouth.
And I want to escape,
To go and be alone anywhere else.
So I fantasise about driving far away
To some rugged coast up North
And in my fantasy its Autumn
And the sky is as grey as the sea.
Crashing foamy white waves spray up a pebble beach
And the air is chill and salty, smelling just like it used to when I was a child.
My hair is long like it was when I was a teeanger,
And tangles in the wind, whipping across my vision.
Despite the nip in the air I am warm;
Woolly jumper and a scarf and my dad’s Barbour jacket
Wearing my walking boots with those expensive Nordic socks I bought the year before last.
The dog bounds up and down
Barking at the waves, as the water whips into the air
And I wander along behind him
Humming softly to myself
Not a song but to the rhythm that I used to read that one Robert Frost poem to…
And he runs over to me, as I stoop down to pick up yet another rock to add to my infinite collection,
And he smells like the sea and that distinctive wet-dog sea-weedy odour
That only comes about after a long walk along the coast.
He pushes his sandy wet muzzle into my hand,
And I feel how warm and solid and alive he is,
Before gullumphing away again, hind legs kicking up, dancing in the wind, just like Jules’ do.
And when it starts to rain;
First a light mist, that comes in from the sea,
Falling faster and denser, becoming swollen fat droplets pattering against the pebbles;
We take refuge in a coffee shop along the promenade
Where inside it is warm and slightly damp.
We sit in the window, obscured by condensation
And I warm my hands on a mug of hot chocolate and sneak biscuits to the dog.
And I feel safe and happy, and alone,
But not lonely.
Because even when we leave the café,
And walk the rain abbandoned streets back to the car,
And even though we are hundreds of miles from home,
This is the day I chose
To escape the painful loneliness of sitting at home
And of waiting.
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Busy day at work and now at home bored with nothing to do. I wish I had a wife and kids. My life feels so meaningless. I work two jobs and spend my evenings alone drinking beer and watching Netflix. A lot of married men say that they miss life as a Bachelor. I am tired of it and wish I could find a wife. I wish I could have kids but I feel it's best not to with how crazy this world is. I understand marriage can be tough sometimes and there are arguments. I wouldn't mind that if it didn't mean being lonely so much. I have been lonely too much and its not good for my mental health. When I go to the city I am most of the time alone. I will be traveling alone to Minneapolis this summer. I feel like I am slowly losing my mind and sometimes I feel overwhelmed because I really start to worry about my mental health. I hope I can find an Asian wife. I really like Asians and would like to marry one someday.
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jak długo jeszcze będę czuła po tobie pustkę?
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me to my friends: “Yeah i’m totally fine! haha”
me to my friends: *starts laughing*
me to my friends: *starts crying*
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Loneliness
I'm back in the dark room, I find myself there more often these days. I hate how familiar it feels. The room is empty, cold and devoid of any light naturally I find myself in desperate need for the warmth of a person. Nevermind, the warmth of anything please just anything at all just something to distract me from the fact that not even shadows can keep me company in the room. I am left with my thoughts and they're in camouflage with the room. I start to shiver uncontrollably with the cold becoming unbearable and so in a last ditch effort my thoughts blanket me. I realise that there's nothing I can do but accept them. Regardless of my contempt towards it I end up in this room often. It's starting to become a home
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untitled
I just sat – hoping, pondoring, wondering away my collected sorrows. Too bright: the blackest spotlight I was above. As hidden I may seem every remaining thought confines in being centered. Darkly illuimated, I am –
Throughout all seasons summer never came. But in hasty moments of bliss summer was yet to come. As the word 'soon', you cling a little hope. But past soon, has its way of passing. As when summer never comes, winter never ends. The blackest spotlight is yet to change another color – Use a far cry from muse to bring it's attention to –
I sit again – hoping, pondoring, wondoring away my collected sorrows
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