Archives for the month of: September, 2012

There are times when flowers don’t make up for faults. 
And when this time comes, that flowers don’t equal a real apology, you know something is wrong.
Instead of feeling your heart bounce and skip over the surprise, you fall to the ground like dirty laundry. Materialistic items aren’t what you want. All you want is her. But she’s somewhere else, with a group of her friends, and you’re all alone.
Loneliness isn’t your enemy. Knowing that you have someone to come home to, is your enemy when you realize no one is there.
It makes loneliness more lonely and unbearable. 

Sunflowers were my favorite flowers. Now as I look over at them, as they sit in a plastic vase that once held paint brushes, with their stems criss-crossed, all I see is nothing. I see the absence of happiness.
So this is what I’ve learned. Don’t tell your partner your favorite flower, because one day they’ll ruin that connection you have had with the flowers. The flowers will no longer represent your happiness and your youth from childhood, but instead turn over and be empty and full of sadness.
Don’t tell your partner how you really feel. They will listen but they don’t acknowledge. They’ll say that they will do something different but they won’t. They will continue doing the same thing since day one.
Don’t get back together with that person. Even if they promise that “this time it will be different” and even if they say that you are the most important thing, just know, you aren’t important to them unless you are out of their life. They won’t learn one thing if you keep crawling back. So stay away. 
That is what I’ve learned.

I took the flowers and mentally threw them into the ocean. The petals are tears from the sun, dipping into the blue waters of salt.

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There’s this girl who isn’t a girl, but rather a vessel of pure evil. I have never met someone so brutally in love with herself that she will destroy anyone who tries to put their own two cents in. She comes off sweet and innocent at first, then you start to realize how manipulating she is and how deceiving!
She doesn’t actually care about people. She uses them like a master at chess.

Her habits are the same. After a year of everyone deserting her, except for those who don’t see beyond her veil, you would think she would get the message that “something’s gotta give.”
Alas, she is still the same “flower,” who reminds me of someone I once fell in love with. 
(They should both be dead).

Her voice is not sweet but raspy from all of the cigarettes she smokes and coughs up. Her eyes are glassy and tainted red, after smoking a recent blunt. She has those lips that fall like rose petals, and long lashes like webs of a spider waiting to catch its new prey. 
She is beautiful, but beauty on her does not last long. Every curve of her body and light skin, makes you itch and burn at the sight of her, in an utterly negative way. 
You never thought such a pretty girl could be so condemned. 

She pried her way into my room. Standing in front of my bed to talk to my friend who was visiting. I felt this dark evil magnetic field overtake me. I met my doom. Anger swell inside my heart and festered. I see black liquid drip, thick, across my consciousness. My personality splits and I forget about Right and Wrong. 
All I picture is holding a knife and stabbing her throat at every word she speaks. 

You may wonder how I, myself, could become so menacing. It must have been her air of dust she brought with her. It makes it hard to breathe, to think clearly, to function.

This little girl scares me with all that I am. I am a quiet person who laughs when things have humor. I rarely get upset or irritated. But she, she brings out the worst in me. It is frightening!
How can this small girl with locks of blond and golden curls, make my blood boil and turn me into a serial killer? Oh no, of course I am not a serial killer. I just wonder, whyyyy are my thoughts this polluted?! 

Usually in a close space with her I am fine. I hold my tongue. I don’t think twice. 
Then she steps into my territory personally, my own room of sanctuary, and that is where I lose all sign of sanity. My special holy place is now thrown up in the air, with this cunt that stands before me as if she deserves to breathe the air I breathe.

I hate that feeling of losing control. And my girlfriend shrugs. She doesn’t like me angry. Only she can be angry…only she can have problems. I have to hold mine back. And look where that gets me. 
Turning into a crazed woman, possessed by inner demons. 

Just know, if I were a serial killer she would be dead by now.