When you smile it makes me all warm inside. I'm a hot oven and you're the hand that turns the switch to 350 degrees. The clock ticks as you wait patiently for your scrumptous treat to be delivered and in the end your pearly whites show themselves again. Your smile is a drug I'm addicted to and I crave it 28 hours a day, nine days a week, 485 days a year. Just to see you smile it makes me think that maybe life is worth living, maybe it's my head playing tricks on me, I don't know. But when you pass me by in that empty hallway or lonely corridor, remember to show me what you're made of.

Writings.

Her eyes show sadness as she watches the bird perched on the telephone wire, this electricity even surges through her own body. But she knows that everything is plastic and everybody is fake. She can see past the lies and the false 'I love you's' because it has become routine. It's just a daily part of life that has consumed her on the inside and it shows, beaming past the particles of blue stuck between a crease in her face...she has not been lifted since the day of her birth. "It's been too long" she cries. It's been too fucking long.

I have an interesting thought composed of dirty lies and cheap talks like the one you explained to me in front of the other three with my mouth wide open and my mind out of wack- gone! So leave me down on the ground I've pounded trying to make you stay just one more day, be around or I'll pour that liquor down down down. What's the use of staying sober? Another September gone by another autumn about to fly like the caterpillar that spread its wings into the sky up out of the cocoon, that shelter we call home but nobody knows how or why we're here just that there's a point. And a plan. And a fate. For us all.

My brain isn't working and my heart is dysfunctional. I am bodydead and emotionally disabled. My personality has been chopped into tiny pieces of rubbish and thrown into others' hands for the taking. I don't feel and I don't think. I don't see past the image set before us and I can't look through the mirror anymore. My eyes are tired and I am weary; I wallow through the world like a lonely fish stuck in the depths of the rough coral reef. But aren't we all trying to find ourself?

Since everyone compares their emotions to a rollercoaster, I will compare mine to a seesaw. There's happiness, when one side is in the air, and the other side is down. Either way, there's still a little bit of happiness or sadness left in me. One is just more visible than the other. And one is more dominant than the other. Then there's neutral, when the seesaw is stuck in between the two different, opposite emotions. It doesn't stay that way for long, because it has to go up or down at some point. One of the weights on the seesaw is people. Society. The human race. The other is events, or, the world in general. I am in the middle, sliding both ways, trying to keep control, along with my feelings, views, opinions...self. The seesaw of life. I see, and I saw, what the world can do to one.

Oh no! It's a...a...flying squirrel!!!!

Go back home