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It's exactly a year since I first met my Dad today..
I ramble. That's all there is to it.
It's exactly a year since I first met my Dad today..
[Words that lack structure, errant thoughts from my head.]. Soft breeze, blazing sun. A distant horizon, buildings merging into one.
Blunt and worn down, I think it's past its time. The trail it leaves is no longer sharp or defined. And what happened to my sharpener. I swear I had it near.
Why do I think you're wonderful when there's so much I should hate you for. How can I look up to you when you've done so much wrong.
I'm not sure what's worse. Is it knowing you lost someone you never got to meet, or finding someone you never knew existed and growing to love them - only to be forced apart again.
I'm absolutely terrified of needles. Not of sewing needles, not of pins - just injections. And today I've got to be sedated... which, (hurray!), means I have to have an IV.
I miss the time when words came easily, when I'd spend my days thinking up ideas and my evenings writing them down.
Watching the chaos unfold from my window, I knew there was nothing I could do.
She feels a sad emptiness between them... an almost tangible nothingness that leaves her with an ache in her chest.
It makes me sad to think we'll never be one. That we'll never do any of those silly, seemingly mundane things like eating dinner together or sitting down and watching TV.
Another title, another veil for my rambles. I've never been much good at poems; in fact, in my entire 17 years I think I've only written one. It was about daffodils, and I was in Year 3.
If you cleared your mind completely, it would be like standing in a vast open room. You would surrounded by the confines of your consciousness, but there would be no movement. No sound.
It didn't happen like she had thought it would. There were no explosions, no raging fires, no ruptures in the ground... and nothing but silence.
Silence is a good space for my thoughts, as they're easily distracted and need space to move freely before they begin to make sense. But true silence is hard to find.
...and I saw how he ran to catch her. I saw the expression on his face, how for a second looked as though his heart had been ripped out of his chest. He was going to lose everything.
What proof do we have that they truly function. Perhaps we are all wandering aimlessly, ignorant and blind to the truth... whilst our eyes create an illusion before us...
I wonder whether mankind will reach a point where fear of the unknown will be dwarfed by fear of knowledge. To know would be to have your mind destroyed...
Only one more week of exams and it'll be over forever. I'm not sure how I feel about that..
I find it strange that whenever girls my age talk about love, it's immediately about boyfriends. Why is the only 'love' people seem to know romantic.
It's funny how happy a number in a little red circle can make me..
When you try to ignore it, you can't help but notice how quickly it passes..
When you're feeling down, remember that it's always there. Even when it's dark and cloudy, above those clouds the sky is clear and the sun is always shining..
I'm watching one from my window. I remember how scared I used to be when they came; I'd hide under my bed or behind the sofa and wouldn't come out til the rain stopped. I'm not scared now, though.
Sometimes I wonder whether those people who claim to not follow a crowd are just following the crowd who don't follow. It hurts my brain..
How can I miss something that was never even there. Why, only now, do I feel the emptiness of a hole that has been there for my entire life. It seems pointless. It's never going to go away..
It's funny how I look at them. They can be so familiar, so comforting... yet given time they can turn into a prison's metal bars..
I want to, but my eyes just won't stay closed. I feel like I'm missing something... I'm missing someone..
I hate them. Why, simply because of my age, am I viewed as ignorant and immature. Just because some teenagers are miscreants with the IQ of a brick, it doesn't mean I am.
Have you ever tried to imagine one. To give it a name. I thought I'd managed it... until I realised that 'pinkle' was just pinky purple. It's safe to say that I was bitterly disappointed!.
... How time pushes you forward even when you're standing still..
They stopped. My brain is a pink smushy ice cube. Dreams and aspirations scale it like a glacier, but they cannot break through...
Or do you, like I, sometimes wonder how you would look to people from the past. I imagine my hair colour would surprise them... "No, I'm *not* the spawn of the devil, I just like red!".
When such wrong is dealt to the innocent, our perception of the cause seems to shift. "A great injustice to mankind".. was, in truth, caused by the people it so cruelly punished.
When you feel yourself drifting, do you tighten your grip or let yourself float away...?.
Watching the chaos unfold from my window, I knew there was nothing I could do.