Looking around the dark, inviting room, thinking of life. It’s funny how tu get thrown into things. The room tu are in, for whatever reason. The things around you. tu must’ve came to like them in some way, how though? Did it capture interest? Is it something a friend has gave you?
How did I get to this point? Feeling fiction from lectura o escritura is life, instead of my own. Wanting to be cast as characters in stories, but not my own life. Anxiety grows to be más like fictitious characters. I don’t understand my own life these days. All jumbled up, and disconnecting.
Anxiety like panic attacks hit me randomly. Especially when thinking of fiction. corazón races, nausea, dizzy spells, sometimes hallucinations, mainly when up a three a.m.
Closed-off, grumpy, thoughtful, manipulative, private, shy, ignorance despising, hypocritical just a few words to describe me. Everyone can be hypocritical. We are all so cruel in our own way.
No one can comfort me, nor do I feel anyone will listen. The ones who would, I’m terrified to talk to. I’ve driven myself to the point I feel like amor isn’t real, and I’m silenced, and broken. I’m a fake, supportive, third wheel. I’m a sad head case that’s why I refuse to unload on anyone. I seem pathetic, even to myself.
I want to sob, yet I can’t seem to find tears anymore. They’ve evaporated. A few people make my corazón crack when my eyes fall upon them. más tears gone. My hate toward amor grows.
A close friend, she jumps on me for treating guys as if they’re disposable. I know she is right. Why do I? No one holds interest, commitment problems, scared, annoyance, I don’t know! I don’t know if I believe in love, o not. I want to, but its risky.
What is love? An orgasm with a lover? An I amor tu from your mother? A pat on the back from your best friend forever? A peck on the cheek from the boy siguiente door, o the last kiss on the lips from an older couple saying goodbye? But there is no goodbye. For, we amor even in death. There is no till death do we part.
Life will neve ber fully comprehendible. Never an answer to the why. Live, and don’t wait to die! Push it back, for it will cause worry, and anxiety. Live with happiness, not fear, and think about this for you’ve never thought of it before. Though, its has been dicho more, and more.
You only live once. tu have a good forty years at the least. Four decades if your lucky. If your really lucky, longer. Then, your gone, no house, no friends, no air, no body, nothing, but your soul, and the afterlife. This is it, so make it count.
No. I refuse to let myself be roped back into this…must...break…free…before...all….hell…breaks loose……….
Black…It’s all black…
How did I get to this point? Feeling fiction from lectura o escritura is life, instead of my own. Wanting to be cast as characters in stories, but not my own life. Anxiety grows to be más like fictitious characters. I don’t understand my own life these days. All jumbled up, and disconnecting.
Anxiety like panic attacks hit me randomly. Especially when thinking of fiction. corazón races, nausea, dizzy spells, sometimes hallucinations, mainly when up a three a.m.
Closed-off, grumpy, thoughtful, manipulative, private, shy, ignorance despising, hypocritical just a few words to describe me. Everyone can be hypocritical. We are all so cruel in our own way.
No one can comfort me, nor do I feel anyone will listen. The ones who would, I’m terrified to talk to. I’ve driven myself to the point I feel like amor isn’t real, and I’m silenced, and broken. I’m a fake, supportive, third wheel. I’m a sad head case that’s why I refuse to unload on anyone. I seem pathetic, even to myself.
I want to sob, yet I can’t seem to find tears anymore. They’ve evaporated. A few people make my corazón crack when my eyes fall upon them. más tears gone. My hate toward amor grows.
A close friend, she jumps on me for treating guys as if they’re disposable. I know she is right. Why do I? No one holds interest, commitment problems, scared, annoyance, I don’t know! I don’t know if I believe in love, o not. I want to, but its risky.
What is love? An orgasm with a lover? An I amor tu from your mother? A pat on the back from your best friend forever? A peck on the cheek from the boy siguiente door, o the last kiss on the lips from an older couple saying goodbye? But there is no goodbye. For, we amor even in death. There is no till death do we part.
Life will neve ber fully comprehendible. Never an answer to the why. Live, and don’t wait to die! Push it back, for it will cause worry, and anxiety. Live with happiness, not fear, and think about this for you’ve never thought of it before. Though, its has been dicho more, and more.
You only live once. tu have a good forty years at the least. Four decades if your lucky. If your really lucky, longer. Then, your gone, no house, no friends, no air, no body, nothing, but your soul, and the afterlife. This is it, so make it count.
No. I refuse to let myself be roped back into this…must...break…free…before...all….hell…breaks loose……….
Black…It’s all black…
what a stupid! love! love! love! "i amor love" "everybody needs to be a lover" "true love" all those stupid words! "bla bla bla"
amor is a legend, there's nothing u can call it "love" , tu can't even define it. tu know why? because it isn't there! that's why tu can't say i am in amor and say the same word after two years o two days.
tu see, if it worked with your lover, tu 'll say tu loved each other, and if it didn't work, you'll say it wasn't love!!!
tu are all stupid, lovers!
tu aren't even "lovers"
because "lovers" is a word from "love" and love's a legend.
when i heard this once when i was young, i didn't believe it.
but know i believe it's the truth, and there's nothing else truth.
tu may not believe me now, but tu will, in few years in your life.
amor is a legend.
amor is a legend, there's nothing u can call it "love" , tu can't even define it. tu know why? because it isn't there! that's why tu can't say i am in amor and say the same word after two years o two days.
tu see, if it worked with your lover, tu 'll say tu loved each other, and if it didn't work, you'll say it wasn't love!!!
tu are all stupid, lovers!
tu aren't even "lovers"
because "lovers" is a word from "love" and love's a legend.
when i heard this once when i was young, i didn't believe it.
but know i believe it's the truth, and there's nothing else truth.
tu may not believe me now, but tu will, in few years in your life.
amor is a legend.
Prologue Look at the world, yeah go on and look at it. Now tell me, What do tu see? Home? Life? Secrets? Death? Anything? Well most people always see it differently. But they never see what’s right in front of them.
When tu look at the world tu always see the small things. tu never see the big obvious things that lurk in the shadows of every dark corner .
Well some of us see it, others… don’t. You’d be surprised por ever secret, every hidden thing yet to be discovered… o never will.
And I know we shouldn’t be telling you, but tu ought to know.
So look at the world, that’s right look at it. Because it’s going to change forever…
When tu look at the world tu always see the small things. tu never see the big obvious things that lurk in the shadows of every dark corner .
Well some of us see it, others… don’t. You’d be surprised por ever secret, every hidden thing yet to be discovered… o never will.
And I know we shouldn’t be telling you, but tu ought to know.
So look at the world, that’s right look at it. Because it’s going to change forever…
Okay this fits to be articulo worthy. I have this budding idea for a story about a girl named Skye(real named skylar) who discovers that she and her two friends are Sirens ( a different kind than tu think). They all have ibdividual powers like Skye can use other peoples power, Hazelle and Gabriel,s powers are conjuring fuego and Hazelle can shapeshift objects. Their parents were friends and there dads, and hazelle and gabriel have one parent while skye has none, she lives with her aunt and she has this lost sister who thinks she is a Siren but is their kinds' enemy. Meanwhile Hazelle and Gabriel are dating but skye and him are close because their moms were friends and wjen her parents died she lived with them for a while as kids. So eventually they like each other. This story is confusing and jeeds work but its what i have. Tell me should i tweek it o leave it alone. Also give me insight into what to do to fix it. Thanks.
Falling...
Sometimes she’s down por the river
o other times por her tree
Sometimes she thinks about the things she can never see
But when the rain falls down, she’d cry
There’s no reason why
She’s always walked alone
No one’s ever shared her ride
No one’s ever felt close to her, no one’s ever por her side
She’s avoided por everyone
And never has any fun
Now darkness is her favourite thing
She thinks there’s no hope
No on ever throws her a rope
When she’s falling…
Sometimes she’s down por the river
o other times por her tree
Sometimes she thinks about the things she can never see
But when the rain falls down, she’d cry
There’s no reason why
She’s always walked alone
No one’s ever shared her ride
No one’s ever felt close to her, no one’s ever por her side
She’s avoided por everyone
And never has any fun
Now darkness is her favourite thing
She thinks there’s no hope
No on ever throws her a rope
When she’s falling…