Her screams and yells no longer surprise or affect me. It's the things that she in a whisper that destroy me. Like "I love you", and "I can't beleive you did this to me".
Death had no reason to scare us, we were just some people that happened to die. She-he-it appeared as our mothers, brothers, long lost sisters and told us lullaby stories as we passed. The youngest among us was a seven year old girl, older than time would allow her to be, who said "Give me ten more years, just ten more years so I can expienerce what love feels like, so I can regain the laughter I had when I realized that puppies weren't fuzzy for me."
She was the worst part of waking up, or more like the lack of her. Every morning when I awoke I would keep my eyes closed until I felt the weight of her next to me or the sound of keys. She would wait for hours to see me rise, for she loves to say goodbye.
Someone who was my soul by bobtheghost, literature
Literature
Someone who was my soul
I'm sorry to intrude on your normal everyday thoughts but I have an epilogue of sadness to relay, and I am also sorry for my tone. I should be crying and whimpering like the common fool but I got so used to the hurt and pain. She's dead. I know that' not a good way to start a monologue, but it's the best clear and cut way to said it. She is dead. Who was she? She was the only one I ever cared about. No, I mean my heart, you know the heart the thing all human need to survive. She was as important as the air we breathe, she was the ground I walk on and when I touched her it was like touching heaven. Then when we danced it was like heaven on ear
There once was a man who had a clock.
This man and this clock were never parted, but everyday the clock lost an hour.
As I said before they were never parted until the man ran out of time.
I find myself being a man of too many voices and many minds. My minds and voices say, "Feel uplifted; feel depressed; feel this, feel that." Then the voices outside my mind start talking, "You need this, you need that, you want this, you want that, be this, be that, do this, do that." I start drowning in the thought, I start choking on the words. I start laughing insanely without a mind, with my soul next to me because I'm so tired, so depressed and so frustrated. A tear rens down from my cheek and into my lap. My soul says "Run. Run without stopping, run without caring about where you end up. Run without worrying about the next moment." So
If I could only breathe and relax
If I could only stop my heart from pounding
When all I wanted was never to go back
I don't know I feel so
The timing was all wrong
Tread lightly my friend
My sanity so strain
Can't the devil smile
because he wants more
No
Nothing
I could show him true love
But in no way am I god like
I just have words
Throw me away
Bad luck
unlucky
I don't know
I am losing
Being tired is better than wanting peace
Kamboom unhappiness all over me
Fuck I don't know what I think about that
Shit, I've been thinking
Give me distance
And so
How
I wish he would stop doing that
I hate the tools we use
and i
If I could only breathe and relax
If I could only stop my heart from pounding
When all I wanted was never to go back
I don't know I feel so
The timing was all wrong
Tread lightly my friend
My sanity so strain
Can't the devil smile
because he wants more
No
Nothing
I could show him true love
But in no way am I god like
I just have words
Throw me away
Bad luck
unlucky
I don't know
I am losing
Being tired is better than wanting peace
Kamboom unhappiness all over me
Fuck I don't know what I think about that
Shit, I've been thinking
Give me distance
And so
How
I wish he would stop doing that
I hate the tools we use
and i
I find myself being a man of too many voices and many minds. My minds and voices say, "Feel uplifted; feel depressed; feel this, feel that." Then the voices outside my mind start talking, "You need this, you need that, you want this, you want that, be this, be that, do this, do that." I start drowning in the thought, I start choking on the words. I start laughing insanely without a mind, with my soul next to me because I'm so tired, so depressed and so frustrated. A tear rens down from my cheek and into my lap. My soul says "Run. Run without stopping, run without caring about where you end up. Run without worrying about the next moment." So
There once was a man who had a clock.
This man and this clock were never parted, but everyday the clock lost an hour.
As I said before they were never parted until the man ran out of time.
Someone who was my soul by bobtheghost, literature
Literature
Someone who was my soul
I'm sorry to intrude on your normal everyday thoughts but I have an epilogue of sadness to relay, and I am also sorry for my tone. I should be crying and whimpering like the common fool but I got so used to the hurt and pain. She's dead. I know that' not a good way to start a monologue, but it's the best clear and cut way to said it. She is dead. Who was she? She was the only one I ever cared about. No, I mean my heart, you know the heart the thing all human need to survive. She was as important as the air we breathe, she was the ground I walk on and when I touched her it was like touching heaven. Then when we danced it was like heaven on ear
She was the worst part of waking up, or more like the lack of her. Every morning when I awoke I would keep my eyes closed until I felt the weight of her next to me or the sound of keys. She would wait for hours to see me rise, for she loves to say goodbye.
Death had no reason to scare us, we were just some people that happened to die. She-he-it appeared as our mothers, brothers, long lost sisters and told us lullaby stories as we passed. The youngest among us was a seven year old girl, older than time would allow her to be, who said "Give me ten more years, just ten more years so I can expienerce what love feels like, so I can regain the laughter I had when I realized that puppies weren't fuzzy for me."
Her screams and yells no longer surprise or affect me. It's the things that she in a whisper that destroy me. Like "I love you", and "I can't beleive you did this to me".
Current Residence: My own world Favourite genre of music: The sound of crying cats Favourite style of art: anything beautiful Shell of choice: my dark little hole Skin of choice: Yours, can I wear it sometime Favourite cartoon character: Wolfwood from trigun Personal Quote: We should have never given up being prophetes.
Favourite Visual Artist
I have to say me because I have low self esteem
Favourite Movies
the last time i comminted sucide
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
beatles, ani difranco, they might be gaints
Favourite Writers
Dorothy Parker poet (because the rest of her writing sucks)
I know it doesn't I know it doesn't matter I know nobody cares but once again I had a really hard day I'm sitting here not knowing what I'm going to work and I don't know I just wanted to talk to somebody and you're the best person sometimes. Earlier I was talking about the shape of the universe how never has anybody ever whole how they're always looking for a little bit more. And I know that there's a hole in me but I don't know exactly what is missing. How do you find the thing that is missing when you never had in the first place. I have never really dreamed I really never knew how I only move forward try to find try to fix. But fixing isn
I dream of you
my head on the pillow
I dream of you
Dancing around in the world
Smiling like a madman
But when i stop dreaming and i think about you i wonder if your happy.
When i think about you, you'll lean over and you'll said that you love me and i dream that you won't break my heart