Life is a roller coaster of emotions and experiences that bring us up or takes us down.The secret is to learn and grow from these experiences.Turn the tables on the stuff that upsets you by just shaking it off and move forward.Take the day before you and cope with what matters...
woke me from a dead slumber. I lay in bed cocooned in the down comforter listening to the rain pitter patter outside. The slate grey cloud cover blankets the early morning sky and my mind wanders off into the idea of rain wetting and cleansing the earth. I find myself engulfed...
no more drugs, no drink to use
and I'm used
to doing it my way
but cuss it
roll wit the punches
make it to the end of each day
try to win
but if you lose...
and it ain't all bad..
that ******* hole again....a place where I told myself I'd never
ever let myself go... and here I am.... Well ******* done!
I literally feel sick... I blame myself and my addictive personality...
Am I just too nice..?
Do I worry about other peoples, virtual strangers above...
about the time we spent together
I thought what we had was right
Until you told me you felt something was missing altogether
I was dumbstrucked
Everything was okay just hours ago
You said you then understood what your friends' meant by mixing with someone like me
I don't hate you.I hate the bitter taste of disappoint.I hate my chronic sporadic chest pain.How used to crying I've become..Because crying over you is as familiar as brushing my teeth.You are my cavity.The in-depth abyss;dotted perforated cut line.~I need to write~The c-section...
when they read my poems and songs because I'm a really awkward person and I always get nervous and stutter, but my emotions and my words come out vividly in my works. I love writing because I don't have to be afraid to say what I need to when I write and I can "speak" better...
i can express my self better in writing than in speech
I am not a good writer but rather a very bad speaker
I wan't to express what i feel but how can i write
The pain of losing wonderful people
The pinch of unfulfilled dreams
The glow of new love
The innocence of a baby...
no bud no beer,
that doesn't mean I lack the craving,
sometimes it's like there's no saving....
less it be
something hard core like strong liquor, xtc, mixed with lsd,
I'm Al alone but sometimes
it's best to be
that way, it pushes back that day...
my pieces will probably never be published and no one will know my name after I'm gone. That being said, as someone who deals with depression I have never found such a sanctuary for my thoughts and feelings. My sadness gets put into the words I can not make out when people ask...
You can find me...Look where there is no listening..Where the wind carries whispers like mothers' carry their babies.Where justice has overslept and fear fastens its grip around the vocal cordsof every opposing opinion to individuality.You can find me...Look for the steam rising...
existence and tear them to the ground in the same breath. My eloquence is matched only by the articulacy of my prose. I am the sage narrator guiding the hero towards the end of his quest and the ribald voice of the antagonist. I can rend your heart from your chest with my words...
since I was young, and was put in speech therapy for I think eight years.
A lot of rules were pounded into me, such as talking at the right speed, facing the person, and pausing at the right times. But despite being in therapy I still have difficulty with S sounds.
my almost heartbreak, I can't see clearly.
You come back in kaleidoscopes, with flashes of your dark green eyes, glaring into my brown ones, and then bursting into a perfect laugh.
Memories of your hands wrapped up in mine, looking down at me, checking to see if I was asleep...
I've ever felt
is when I imagine
what it will feel like
to wake up
next to you
early on a cold january morning
with nothing but a blanket
and your skin
to keep me warm.
the shallow rise and fall
of your chest
and hear your warm breath
slipping out in to the
Some of us out there are just not wired to be outgoing. We know exactly what we want to say, but a lot of the time it just comes out wrong. We are often every bit as intelligent as those who are talkative, many times even more so. But some of us just aren't blessed with the...
This letter is long. Please give me your time. I'm proud of my words, maturity, and truthfulness in this letter and I'd love for you to read it and give me your feedback. Maybe you'll find something in here that will help you. Thank you!!
******’ Letters, I know...
I can't really explain anything without trying multiple times, which is good for writing, because you can edit, revise, and edit some more. I love creative writing because I can do anything. I can live through my characters, by having them do the things I can't. It's really...
that I'm really good at essays, and the fact that I got 20/25 of my essay writing on my English Proficiency Certificate, makes me believe that I might be good. I like writing about interesting staff anyway.
am closest to dead. I picture myself too heartbroken to go their funerals, staring into space for weeks on end. I picture myself sitting in bed, staring at the ceiling for what feels like a decade. I watch myself, through my own eyes, slowly deteriorate into a nonhuman creature...
and school as being more fluent with my hands than words, but people also compliment my writing skills. One day, my classmates decided to sneak up and tie my hands with another mate's tie and I was stuttering and disjointed for that point in time.
but my mind can feed me deeper thoughts that I can write in a blink, just like now...If I were your sun and you're my moon,Can we meet halfway like around noon?Then maybe we can drink, laugh and dance,Let this chance be our lifetime romance!
I often write better than I speak, though there are times when I sit down to write and everything is just blank.
Today I am a little nervous. I have to see my probation and parole officer. There are a little under 3 months left of my intensive correction order, including...
my first legit story, and this was a little bit ago, she hasn't given it back yet.
The story was an outline, it was fifteen pages front and back, I know my handwriting is bad, but I know she can read it.
Do I ask for it back or do I wait for her to give it back?
and she would sit there, cold as ice. When it was her turn to speak, she tore down every word that came out of my mouth until I had to apologize for expressing how I felt. I ignored this red flag and made excuses to myself and others.
than I can speak. I love it. It voices my voice without even being voiced. You may read it one way and I may read it in a whole different way. That, and no one really listens these days. They just pretend to be listening. Some people do listen and I love those people. But I just...
I stumble over my words and can barley make a decent, coherent sentence. I dislike the stares I get when I speak and the pressure gets so intense that I start getting anxious. When it comes to writing, I feel the pressure ease off and I become more comfortable. I am able to...
It's excruciatingly awkward and frustrating for me. It's a burden to always keep thinking of "stuff" to talk about. I don't have a wide range of knowledge, so I'm afraid of getting something wrong or revealing my total ignorance. I don't like to grill people, or ask them a lot of...
I can express myself a lot better through writing than I can through talking. I enjoy writing and I like to think I am good at it. When I write, I sound intelligent, and can get my point across effectively. However, every time I open my mouth to speak, I sound like a total idiot...
of headlights. My throat chokes up, my eyes fill up and even if I know exactly what I need to say, I feel sorry for the person in front of me and can't force myself to hurt them. It is so much easier to write it all down (if it's someone I care about) and explain exactly what I...