DIARY

21/3/17
How you love yourself is how you teach others to love you.


A scattered mind fails to grasp what is important. Meaning a lost boy will find more beauty in the vivid red silent red roses rather than the scarred girl who would take a bullet for him. However the roses won't give him the warmth he desires yet he aimlessly wanders further and further into the maze whilst the stems continue to scar his small legs until they are crisscrossed with blood.

Fingertips press quickly and harshly to form a distinctly blank page.

6/5/17 
Confusion is like a disease. It's cruel and it hurts. In all honesty it feels like I'm slowly sinking, wasting away with nothing but sadness coursing through my veins.

When the city is sleeping I walk through the bitter quiet streets with him, sometimes I skip from tile to tile just like a small child and I feel ecstatic but sometimes it's like I'm a ghost. Little does anyone know that I'm trying to pick myself up piece up by piece. This girl is afraid of the world and hides behind her striking red lipstick and sweet smile. The lipstick stains her ring finger yet she doesn't wash it off.

It's 11pm. His phone lights up and a small earthy laugh escapes him, his body slightly vibrating the chair. His fingers quickly tap away, somewhere a girl lays in bed with a smile on her face and for hours they talk about anything and everything. I wonder is she the last thing that crosses his mind before he falls asleep? I guess once that girl was me...

Rejection. I think I finally got a taste of my own medicine. It fucking hurts.  It's a slow suffocating pain but I'm happy that he's found a movie kind of love. I hope one day I find that as well.

 I discovered the song High hopes by Kodaline in Year 8 and listening to it still gives me the same depressed feeling.

24/6/17
I''m scared I'm going to forget him. I'm afraid I'll forget his smile and his voice, his hands and his lips. He's leaving and he's going to be a stranger again. It'll be impossible to see him or hear him.
We bonded over trivial things like black jeans, and pouring rain, secretly driving me insane because I wanted to be with him. Not close but always fingertips away or if he wasn't I would simply have to wait for sunny Sundays and long breaks to be together.  He has a kind smile, the genuine type. His eyes crease and become smaller and I love that although I'de never admit it. Lightly teasing, lightly hitting and light chatter hide the inconceivable sadness that seeps deep into my bones. I want to scream at him 가지마. but I don't and just like that he'll disappear.
But he won't truly ever because precious memories are embedded crystal clear into this messy head. But if I do forget I'll just read this again and hopefully I'll remember.

29/6/17
Some time's it feels like I'm all alone. And I am. I'm all alone and there are tears streaming down my face. My fingers are like ice and my soul is frozen, my mind is black and my heart even blacker.

Fate likes playing cruel tricks where people are like puppets. It's fun to cut the strings, then sew them together with cheap glue & fickle knots until you are dancing on a thin thread. Cloaked under deceit, yet the thread never breaks and you continue to dance endlessly, in pain, with a smile on your face and a rose in your hand. A rose that you clench ever so tightly while blood drips slowly feverishly down your fingertips never quite reaching the floor. You hate that fucking rose but it's what people admire and heed at so in your clutch it remains firmly. You're a broken mess but you have the rose and so you grin like a chesire cat glowing from the admiration and allure but in the end all you are is a teller of lies with a bleeding hand and broken hand yet everyone's buying them.

3/7/17
Time passes by so quick and in a medley of tears and dropping of coins new buds have begun to form a canopy of feverishly fresh green grass. Winter for me is symbolic of change and even in the midst of people who huddle to their sweaters and mugs of steaming coffee I feel like time is passing me by. I want to grasp on to something that makes me feel like I'm truly alive. Past the cheap wine and computer screens.

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