Stupid things that are stupid games, i’m so tired of playing this game i didn’t sign up to play

because i’d much rather be done than feel this way

you can keep him, i don’t care

but you don’t deserve love when you think of it as a game and the boy as a prize

how many people can you play? how many hearts can you break?

If this is fake for anyone, it’s you. Just as fake as all the things you do.

                                               but it’s okay, he seems fake too.

as if he really likes you.

                          He likes your attention.

and your body parts.

But I guess that’s “love” to you.

    I’ve been looking for something different.

     And I was really hoping he’d be it.

      But I don’t care, i’m done playing your stupid fucking game.

       Count me out, have fun breaking each other’s hearts.

        You deserve each other, really.

         I just have to stop telling myself he’s different,

when he isn’t.

                                             Looks can be deceiving, so count me out.

And have fun playing a game nobody can win.

Because I deserve better.

This must be growing up.

Either all work and no play,

or all fun and no pay.

Learning how to accomodate urges with actions, everyone becomes a play toy. But only when you make decisions that allow you to start

Growing up, this is what life is becoming to us.

And some of us, they started early, but me, I was never ready

for anything that made me grow

And change, which is really kind of funny,

considering where I was born, who I became, from the challenges I

faced, the people I was around.

And now I’m growing up?

Because it seems, when you’re ready, the things just seem to find their way to you.

And after one decision made, or two, suddenly I’m

Growing up, I think I’m growing up now.

And what a strange feeling, knowing that you’re being

Alive, coexisting, with everyone and everything, as equals.

Because I’m so used to being, that person so sick of being

Belittled, belittled, patronize me and make me feel like Half a Human

my whole life, as I was born into something I wasn’t ready for,

that made me this sandbag of experience that rots into wisdom, and oh, 

I know who I am because of it. I’ve hurt so bad because of it,

yet here I am,

finally,

becoming a part of the Human Race.

Because I understand it better now,

I’m changing all again now,

and none of it seems very fair to me.

So much work and wear & tear to me,

finally I see

What the world means.

And what it means to be

Growing up.

alone in the late-night

struggling in a solitary fight

against all the things i believe in

the things that gave me reason

.

no place to be alone

yet trapped in solidaritry

no place to call home

to give lungs and tears to charity

.

now my hands & eyes are empty

and the clock is running thin

no place left to run

‘cause everything’s been stolen

.

without the the world of my sanctuary

i’m left counting my reflections

passing the time like anybody

else stuck in suspesion

.

now everything i believed in

are someone else’s gifts

someone else’s world

i just try to fit myself in it

.

now i can’t seem to find my place

in the worlds i’ve always loved

it’s no longer mine

now i don’t feel welcome

.

and it’s not because of you

“she truly loves you,” they’d frown

no, it’s not because of you

“she just hates herself when you’re around.”

.

perhaps it’s the comparisons i make

of myself to everyone i see

perhaps it’s the way it feels

for myself to never be enough for me

.

so i continually condemn myself

to live up to someone else

as they try to take the things i love from me

and my make own identity feel like blasphemy

it’s easy to forget that i’m not as invisible to you as you are to me then i get disappointed, i’d much rather disappear.

                            i’d much rather disappear.

i’m in my own place as i build it, and it’s not enough.

won’t you just let me be?

     won’t you let me be me?

i’m aching down to my bones for something i don’t know

     i feel it there, in the marrow

waiting to be activated

     waiting to be whole

like fairy dust someone injected deep there,

     something’s different here.

some magic in me yet to be ignited.

     there’s a hole in my chest a spider inhabits.

spinning webs

more each day

          spinning,

               spinning,

                   spinning.

the silk wraps my lungs and shakes my very frame,

     but none of it reaches my brain.

my blood is made of something toxic

          circulating,

               circulating.

bubbles of air pass unnoticed, i count every one.

     my skin is made of layers of paint and tissue and glue, i’m like a human

          robot.

air circles in my lungs and stays, drains, drys, i am breathless.

there are crevaces in my skin that tiny men rebuild.

     tiny people, little carpenters, working day by day, every moment.

(will the feeling come back)

i can’t feel my toes

    i can’t feel behind my eyelids

and i can’t feel all the pieces of skin that tiny men

                                                    rebuild.

the blood vessels in my brain widen and narrow,

     i manipulate them when i am

                                   bored.

my life is a canvas with scratches

          my heart is a tin machine.

my fingers are little limbs that do not belong to me.

there’s a film over the glass marbles i call “eyes”

           they blind me

i cannot see.

everything’s surreal to me.

     my life,

          my body, and all the things I see.

my skin, my mind, my bones and all my

     teeth.

tell me i’m still made of stars?

cash in all my hopes and dreams for a chance to breathe.

                                 life is but a dream.

everything’s surreal to me.

i guess i went outside to see if you would follow

but my family left me empty and your heartbreak left me hollow

i know im a half a human, but i still deserve a life

one of love,

     one of laughs,

          one of every kind of vice

and as my make-up runs on every surface, i knew that they would lie

when i asked them if they thought

that i was any kind of right

my memories were stolen from me

before they were even made

          so now im left shivering

          shaking, crying, quivering

wishing for a razorblade

i know the things i want

are every kind of wrong

but when you’re left half a human

something has to fill the spaces

with all the good things gone

so i’ll be the one in the corner

due to circumstantial horror

on the part of mine

im the one helpless victim

of every single kind of treason

The one with the fucked up story

waiting for her time

accompanied only by imagined whispers

   solaces of hated others

im the one who’s half a human

and no one really cares.　

tonight, are thinking of me?

            was my image fleeting?

tonight, were you feeling too much to see me?

                down on your knees,

     so blatant and clean,

          without restraint, without walls,

                          i saw you.

i saw you undone, i saw you alone yet nothing but.

     tonight, did you see me?

do you remember my name?

and i know my loneliness plays up your friendliness.

               i know.

but can’t i have one thing for me?

     i’ve said those words before.

i know i’m asking too much.

im not the one youre looking for

    i’m not the one anyone’s looking for.

and i may have been looking into thin air tonight, but i still saw you.

          i don’t even know if i want you to be that instantaneous connection.

i just want to know one thing, one thing, and i’m done.

tonight, did you see me?

i’ll take it back, i swear

pretend all you want, it’s my love you’re trying to live

you’ve not evolved yet

when will you see the light?　

Day 3: Think about the character you created for Day 2. Write their seven word biography.

Beauitful, innocent, wonderous, caring; he is love.

im a killer with a death wish

     oh, im the barrel of a gun

waiting to shoot you dead

     by pretending to be something i could never become

oh,  im a time-bomb baby

     itching to explode

blinding all around me

     by dressing up these woes in make-up and short skirts

fake and short-lived dreams

     of someones arms around me

or someone else’s out

     fucking up my bloodstream

so maybe i can just forget

     all the things that ail me

and i admit im changing, baby

     who could be the same?

when the world shifts around me

     or a heart draped in lonely things

tears, chills, and “promise” rings

    so watch me blow up, baby

watch my dramatic downfall from a world that only made me a fool

     for trying to become all these things

if only for attention,

     if only to forget,

          if only to feel a little less lonely as i slept.

double back, double back

did i get what i want?

Day 2: Create a character. Write a brief scene of them in a setting. Also use this paragraph to introduce the character to the reader by how they react to their setting.　

“Bay, be careful out there in the snow.”

“Yes, mother,” Banet said, rolling his eyes, before strolling out the door and shutting it softly behind him. He turned around to face the path that will lead him into town, when he suddenly stops. He looks around the scene in awe, sparkling eyes full of wonder at the beautiful sight. He sees snow blanket every surface, and he sees it as it falls before him. He reaches out his gloved hand to catch a snowflake or two, capture a  tiny piece of  this wonderland. He investigates his palms closely, though his eyes cannot locate any snowflake, bemused and befuddled by the instance that happens every year, almost every day in winter. He allows himself to frolick a little among the white fairies, dance only slightly atop the snowy playground, before the task at hand once again creeps past all the white and back into his mind, and he straightens up and trudges into town.

headaches; they cloud my senses and logic.

doubts; they hinder my progress and growth.

naivety; it haults my future and movements.

time; it does not stop for me

or look back as it leaves me behind.

and the clouds of dust block my vision

my feet frozen in quicksand

and i trudge directionless after time

but instead i only sink

as my own self-doubt acts as adhesive

Adhesive to the naivety, hindered development, and looking like a fool among your peers.

      here i stand, bound by my own hindrances, 

fear once again keeping me back

     fear of becoming everything you lack

in the form of a walking tribute to all the things you couldn’t accomplish

                              run, baby, run

try to catch up

              sweetie, i dare you

catch up with time and become all you wanted to be

                                 but nobody let you know, did they?

nobody told you to make  a try for it early.

     now time’s speeding off without you.

and you’re left stuck with your naivety and self-pity as you slowly, slowly sink.

how far can you stretch me

how else can you tear me apart

                     .

i guess the universe is working against me

taking away my only allies

i guess my worlds come to a dead-end

there’s nowhere left to go

and it’s so not fair

to leave innocent children wanting

     like it’s so not fair

to give me chains when i deserve freedom

        but i guess that doesn’t matter much.

and it’s nights like these i wish i could acquire wings and fly

nights like these i wish i had the gumption to act on childhood urges like

                    becoming a song,

     or running away.

and i don’t want to be that girl

   that lets the world turn her bitter

but it’s nights like these i really wish there were a bigger picture.

and that i was a puzzle piece,

     belonging,

fitting, and meaningful.

     someone who is vital,

like an angel or an almost-martyr.

     but i guess now you could call me the sufferer of someone else’s sin,

the endurance of someone else’s hell when i belong anywhere but the smoldering ashes of someone’s broken life.

maybe, i could assume the identity of a hero,

blind and willing,

but fighting for a purpose.

     reaping the consequences of pain branded in honor.

a fake honor,

                      but still honor.

then i could pretend i’m suffering for a reason.

          but that’s not true.

when this is over, no one will know my name,

     or congratulate me on being the one who made it through.

because i’m not fighting for anything, and i’m not a hero.

     fairy tales don’t exist,

and i have no wings to speak of.

               i can’t fly, run away,

                               live,

                                   or die.

i can’t fight for a higher purpose or hope karma will get me.

                    because this is reality.

this is how the cogs turn under the face of a clock.

             off time,

     broken,

                 and unclean.

  sinners, martyrs and me.

moving dysfunctionally among well-configured wreckage.

       clenching our jaws and hoping for a glimpse of a miracle.

waiting in a fantasy world for silly dreams to come true, or wings to grow so we can fly away,

and live pretending we’re part of something bigger than the world at its worst.

     falling that feels like flying, and flying towards the wall that separates ourselves from everything we deserve.

     but the worlds just the blur of a broken clock,

and we only get a second of its time.

so let’s take this moment to talk to ourselves, drink up, forget to reason why,

there’s no point in guessing,

we’re all just fake heroes and martyrs pretending to fly.

if we’re lucky.