singtomysouldallasgreen:

love this man.

Another unfinished draft post I found…

Have you ever had your trust completely and utterly broken? I guess someone can’t “break” your trust; trust isn’t a physical entity. But, someone can destroy it. And when it’s destroyed, it feels like your world is destroyed. Everything you believed in seems false. The seasonal medicine of sunshine and laughter cures you for that fleeting moment, but at the end of the night, you’re laying in your bed alone. Thinking. You think about the past year and how it’s changed you. You think about her, the one who encouraged this change. And, admit it: you like who you’ve become. You’re confident. You’re doing something with your life. You’ve weeded out the people you don’t need in your life (because, let’s face it… who needs anyone?) and have surrounded yourself with the ones you love. But despite this change, there’s still something missing. The facade you have put up for literally your entire life has been suffering some tough blows in the past year. People are beginning to see through it. And, like usual, people are taking advantage of it. You’re used to people using your trust for personal gain… but not like this. You’ve never fully enveloped yourself into another person before, and it feels so great. But then it comes out: they’ve been lying to you. They tell you they love you more than anything or anyone in the world… and then they skitter right back to their fallback plan.

Found this in my drafts… interesting. 

I will stand. Like the pillars upon which Rome was built, I will survive. Nothing, not even you, can change that. The senseless hate you breed and the immaturity you tend to will never topple my walls. I will stand tall, like the nameless mountains on the horizon; always there, sturdy, reliable… but anonymous. I will expect nothing of others, instead, I will supply. I will tend to my garden of people as I see fit, constantly planting new seeds; experimenting to find the perfect hybrid. I will monitor their growth, notice their lack of trustworthiness. I will make note of every thorn on their stem and every spineless flower which is devoured by Mother Nature. I will weed out the weak, reinforce the strong, and never give up on the most reliable breeds. I will invent a sense of fear. My very name will make them tremble. My success will make them wish they hadn’t burned that bridge. I will use their mocking faces as motivation. This life is my life, and my life will mean something. When I feel weak, I will remember their words.

Thank God for the ability to write. Again, I don’t know when it’s from or who it’s about.

This immortal chasm has weakened the

reach of my kingdom.

What once was unbreakable has now been

crushed under pressure.

A mutiny of sorts has divided my rule,

and now I’ve forgotten how to feel.

—-

Still going through my yesterdays. Still finding shards of my pasts within notebooks and torn off pages. I don’t know when this is from, or who it is about.

I’ve never met someone so impersonal in my entire life.

—-

I don’t owe you anything, so get off my back.

You act like you’re better than me,

but we all know the truth.

The things you do, say, and how you act

prove to me that I am eternally a better

person.

—-

I’ve thought about giving up, giving in, changing my ways.

Putting myself first and being confident.

But I know the winds of change will blow

and turn me into someone I don’t know.

Someone like you.

Someone inept, cocky, and eternally ungrateful.

Someone with a dishonest heart, if I’d have

a heart at all.

Someone who builds up the hopes of other people,

only to willingly let it fall.

You let me fall.

—-

One hundred stories you told me,

one hundred stories I believed.

One hundred stories I climbed,

one hundred stories I fell.

You pushed me.

—-

The next time, I won’t have to climb.

I’ll build my walls with broken hearts and shattered dreams,

ripped up hope with tattered seams.

So tall and impassible, I can not climb at all.

And with all this security, I won’t have to worry if I fall.

I’ll just keep building my walls.

—-

My body is a fortress. My defenses are impenetrable.

It is guarded by soldiers who refuse to let

me down; by those willing to perish for

the well-being of my crown.

—-

I am a King. I am a martyr.

This man will die for the cause.

—-

This is a sestina I wrote for my AP Literature class in 12th grade. Going through my yesterdays, I found this.

When the truth lies uncovered, how will it be discovered?

When the winds of change blow, how do we save ourselves?

As the storm moves in, I feel my momentum shift.

Confidence floods away; standing spineless in the rain

I feel it: the same old me creeping up again.

I wish the cycle would stop. I wish this hurricane could end.

—-

Disaster surrounds me. Could this be the end?

And if it is, in the midst of all this wreckage, will I be discovered?

Self doubt fills me to the brim, threatening to spill again.

I stop and realize that this is not me. This is not how we made ourselves.

For one last time, I peer into the sky, face pelted by rain.

The cold, wet bombs penetrate my skin as my feet begin to shift.

—-

The seemingly impenetrable earth begins to shift.

I feel innocuous, but I want this feeling to end.

The clouds drift menacingly above me, and no longer is it rain

falling, but snow. I remember childhood excitement when snow meant something to be discovered.

Now, it is a nuisance. The only thing we want to discover is ourselves.

But will it ever happen? Apathy strikes me again.

—-

Another day of struggle, where I feel like this again.

From day to day, my face changes as sure as the moon will shift.

The season has changed, the snow forgotten. Slowly, we’ve gotten a glimpse of ourselves.

As the flowers begin to bloom, I think maybe this will end.

The sun begins to shine, but there is still something I have not discovered.

Maybe life isn’t as perfect as those perfect drops of rain.

—-

I’m so sick of rain.

I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again.

I miss the days where confidence flooded through me, feeling there was nothing new to be discovered.

As my story is written, I notice a trend: I shift

from beginning to end until my beginning is my end.

I feel lighter now. I feel like we’ve done this to ourselves.

—-

The sun shines. I think we owe it to ourselves

to finally escape from the grip of the rain.

I notice a change… that this really is the end.

I will not slip again.

No longer will I change, switch, or shift

my moods with the weather. This is something new I have discovered.

—-

I see no rain. Finally, I end the storm.

Green surrounds me; I have discovered happiness again.

I feel this shift is the end, a gift we can not receive, but instead a gift we can only give to ourselves.

(Source: blackbruise)

ihopeyoureokaytonight:

Blink-182 - Stay Together For The Kids (Acoustic)

brb, crying.

iamtoohipforthis:

I’m sick of your tattoos, and the way you don’t appreciate Brand New… or me.