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i promise.we used to sit on an isolated bench in the playground (battleground)
with imaginary vines
and imaginary predators lurking behind the imaginary trees
our imaginary forest
your eyes were amber -
no, golden. they were golden.
they were warm like autumn
but i always preferred spring
yet when you stared i still stuttered and my teeth chattered
i shuddered and like one does in autumn, i got goose bumps
(your eyes always made me think of withering leaves crunching beneath my feet
fragile and crisp)
i usually stutter when i'm nervous.
w-which is all the t-t-time when i'm with you
you used to tell me i was adorable
randomly and unexpectedly
between whispers about make-up, clothes and hair
your words were carried through the wind and breeze
it tickled my ears and heated my cheeks
i brushed it off and blew it in the opposite direction, right back at you
i cant really say i thought much of it, but it made me smile strangely
a smile that you smile for someone you truly care for
taught to love.I was the robotic specimen made flesh and blood, learning day in, day out like a slave. You were the freedom I longed to have, smoking each day away while reclining in the back seat of a metal box in the parking lot, a little like a prince.
I wrote and scribbled quite often. I was pretending to be scholarly. A master of literature. You drank coffee (with whisky, of course) from a polystyrene cup because you broke all the ceramic ones. A master of temptation, alcohol, sex and maybe, just maybe, wiping your own ass on a rare but highly celebrated occasion.
Oh, and you werent such a terrible teacher, either.
You wrote logical equations on a large, dusty blackboard which hung off the wall in the left corner ever-so-slightly and smelt of calcium carbonate. Twenty pairs of eyes bore through the back of your greasy and unkempt head as the chalk screeched across the surface. The twenty-first pair of eyes were buried in a copy filled with notes about the geometry of a circle a
drown.You stand alone in
the pouring rain just waiting
as it soaks your bones.
Patience; a virtue
but it merely postpones your
Quiet; a statue.
Your shield is permanently
clasped between your hands.
Silence is better
than lies, but it can be the
ultimate lie too.
Your lips are sealed. Thin,
dry, insatiable, soft,
Tears dripping along
your rubicund cheeks taste like
sour, sugary grief.
I lick and devour
each drop. Your misery is
my Achille's heel...
I Promise - A PlayI Promise
Enter two girls with bench.
[Two girls are sitting on a bench, laughing and putting make-up on one another: GRACE, late teens, chatty and attractive. CLARISA, teens, short and timid. Grace puts some red lipstick on Clarisa and puts it in her bag once finished. Birds tweeting and dogs barking can be heard in the background.
Children are heard playing and laughing. Both girls have Irish accents.]
Grace: So some mascara next. You don't need much - you have long lashes already - which is pretty cool.
Clarisa: Okay. I have to put eye shadow on you next. I have a savage colour for you.
[Comfortable silence. Grace finishes with the mascara and puts it in her bag.]
Grace: You really look adorable.
[Silence. Both girls start putting away their make-up slowly, occasionally exchanging a smile.
i always believed you were one of those people. impossible to hate, impossible to evade, impossible to obviate. yes, one of those.
because you always reminded me of cigarette smoke. twirling, whispy fumes of wonder dancing in the air. something you inhale, something you breathe, something you live. and never had i thought that a cancerous, calamitous and caustic substance retained such elegance. until i found you. now even the most futile aspects of my life are major parts of my world.
and you remind me of cigarettes because you're just so damn addictive.
you're like efflorescence: you just keep growing, blossoming...becoming more and more exquisite. like a rose, except your magnificent grandeur never seems to wither and crumble. the rich, crimson tint never fades from those rubicund cheeks and you never fade away. like all roses, you have thorns. but then, dear, who doesn't?
you're like water: you're pure. you're perfect. you'r
it's like this.it's a tap leaking. drops of water falling to the steady rhythm of your syncopated heartbeat. no matter how tightly you turn the handle, it dripsdripsdrips as though it has a will of its own; that is my love for you. there is no "it will fade away in time." there is no "if you ignore it will become a distant memory." there is no off switch. i wish there was.
it's holding your breath and the all-encompassing silence that follows; leaving nothing but anguish, a burning sensation on your temple and a soft - yet prominent - ringing in your ears to muffle the nothingness. life pauses for all of five seconds and you exhale as though breathing has no meaning. we are captured in a series of trivial moments and those letters filled with excuses that i will never write.
it's knowing that sweater won't fit you again but storing it in the attic for sentimental value. you burned holes in the sleeves with your father's clipper and that chocolate fudge cake never entirely washed out. de
trans.she had burgundy locks that appeared bedraggled yet vivacious and flocculent, matching her sanguine cheeks. large, masculine hands which were soso venerable yet soso elegant and an aura of vulnerability yet unwavering power.
her eyes were almost ebony. deep, dark but entrancing; worthy of admiration and envy.
her face was an image of (im)perfection. blue lips, tragic smile and porcelain skin. everything - all the tears, vexation, suffering - concealed yet emphasized within a convincing and immaculate mask.
once it was removed, (s)he was still beautiful.
The DramatistYou stepped forward and clutched my limp, pale hand. You kissed the bantam, black bruise beneath my left eye and beckoned me to begin. I traipsed towards you and flung my arms around your neck. My nails dug into the nape's flesh. Our performance started. I struck you, you bowed.
Screaming and writhing, together we took turns at being the antagonist and the damsel in distress. We each said our lines, which weren't necessarily in the script. So we tried ad libbing and used whatever fitted. Plates, glass, beer bottles. Nothing was wasted, only destroyed. Unfortunately, we had no curtain call in the foreseeable future. You're the director, I'm the dramatist. The most colourful input tended to be crimson and flowing. And it was usually mine or that of a child, your audience. They often did watch, their gazes unmoving, though no-one cheered. Not for you. When you were lost for words, I gave you a prompt in the form of pained howls, scraping nails, kicking feet. By then, it was a little too l
Alternatives to self-harm
Self-harm is when someone deliberately hurts or injures him or herself. This can take a number of forms including:
* taking overdoses of tablets or medicines
* punching oneself
* throwing their bodies against something
* pulling out hair or eyelashes
* scratching, picking or tearing at one's skin causing sores and scarring
* inhaling or sniffing harmful substances
Some people self-harm on a regular basis while others do it just once or a few times. For some people it is part of coping with a specific problem and they stop once the problem is resolved. Other people self-harm for years whenever certain kinds of pressures or feelings arise.
A few people who self-harm may go on to commit suicide - generally thesis not what they intend to do. In fact, self-harm can be seen as the 'opposite' of suicide as it is often a way of coping with life rather than of giving up.
There are many methods that are meant to help when the urge to SI overcomes you, some work, some don't. O
DepressionBeing sad is normal.
Depression is not.
Depression is more common than people think.
Others do not understand what it feels like for the blade to be across your skin.
They do not know that black hole in your soul that eats at you.
The only way out of the black hole you see is red.
When people say "I know how you feel" you sink deeper.
Trying to bring you out only makes you dig deeper sometimes.
You feel worthless and a burden.
Depression eats at your soul until you give in.
You never know when depression will hit or what will trigger it.
Even though you can't see it the only way out is not red color but flesh color.
Color of the people who truely love you and hope to reach you in time.
No one can be forced out of depression.
No one will survive depression if left on their own.
Do not let anyone who suffers from depression suffer alone.
No matter what the person tells you.
Depression ends in red if no one cares.
Let depression end not in red but in life.
Stop Fixing the ExceptionI'm not a runaway
You can't tranquilize my spirit
Construct a mob to scare me off
Load me into a van
With bars and padded walls
And call it good
I'm not a child
Band-aid over the problem
Whine to get my way
But I still have that sixth sense
To know when you're lying
I'm not a check list of symptoms
A certain dose of human
The pills, the creams, the gels
Of your science project
I'm not always a story
A long explanation
Drenched in symbolism
Sometimes I'm just one word
Three words, then nothing
"If it's not okay, it's not the end"
And the end?
Is never dead
Why Can't You See?I tell you I'm ok.
All is fine. I'm happy
eyes are just always red.
You believed me.
Have you ever even
thought about what I
do at night just to know
I'm alive. To feel again.
To gain hope again and
find all my lost hope.
My life is a bad dream
that is waiting to end.
I've gave up the fight
for my worthless life.
You brake my lonely
heart. But find out
you weren't the
first one to try, but
the first to make me
wish I'll die.
All You NeedShe doesn't know how to lose
Each moment in time
She was forced to deal
With all that pain
Filling up her soul
She thinks she's had enough
She thinks each time
She's been hurt
Is wrapped up
Inside that pill
The water inside her
Will dissolve the misery
Out of her life
All you need is a friend
Then you won't feel
The need to do this anymore
All you need is somebody
Flowing through your veins
Healing every wound
Curing every frown
All you need is a friend
Someone of human nature
Who will laugh with you
Cry with you
And even die with you
All you need is me
He sits around
Pretendin' to watch TV
When he's really just waitin'
For his big brother to leave
He goes to the kitchen
And pulls out a tall glass
Pours himself some of daddy's
Favourite rum, and takes a sip
Drinks half of it and gives up
He's defeated, once more
Throws the glass on the floor
Shattered pieces everywhere
Sounds just like his heart, broken
Pour some more
And thinks, 'Might as well
Add some poison'
All you need is a friend
Three YearsShe asks what it was
that I miss about you. Wordless,
I move my lips as flashing thoughts
fall into view. I pick the stitches of my dress.
I was blind to the frays
appearing - I had not seen it coming
but I think the others did. Pity. I called
you my angel. You sent me home to find myself.
I want to keep my head floating between your cheek and shoulder
sharing warmth and knowledge. i feel it
now; the scent has gone and the chilled shadow lies
behind me. I feel the whispering doubt -
as if we have just met. Years
unravelling before me. You saved me.
Now I sit, mute and unchanging. I wait.
Each one of usEach one of us humans, were born to be different.
All of us strive to be beautiful.
Not one of us, wants to be seen as ugly.
None of us really are, when it comes deep down.
When you look at me, I'm the exception.
If you were to call me beautiful, I'd just deny it.
You'd be "trippin".
If I was a flower, to be picked from a field...
I'd be the one snipped and chosen last.
Who'd want the flower with the little smudge?
There will always be a girl who's seen as un attractive...
She will always be me.
Don'tI like black, but I'm not goth.
I cut myself, but I'm not "Emo".
I like to shop, but I'm not a shop-a-holic.
I like neon colors, but I'm not scene.
I like baggy cloths, but I'm not a tomboy.
I worry about my appearance, but I'm not a girly girl.
I live in a large house, but I'm not rich.
I hang out with more guys than girls, but I'm not a slut.
I act like I know everything, but I'm just as lost as anyone else.
I love to read, but I also have a social life.
I like to ride four wheelers and play in the mud, but I'm not a guy.
I don't like to cry in front of people, but I'm passionate, and I have emotions.
I laugh at blood and gore, but things still gross me out sometimes.
I don't like public speaking, but I always stand up for what I believe in.
I support homosexuals, but I'm straight.
I am me.
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