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Marissa commented on the post, sleeved 2 days, 20 hours ago
I watched him go in front of my eyes, sleeved in the warm darkness while I stupidly followed behind in shorts and a tank top. The mosquitoes sunk deep into my skin, sucking out everything they could. So while I got weaker along the way, tripping over roots and underbrush, the distance between our bodies grew deeper. The distance between our hearts ran like a jagged scar along my bumped skin.
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Marissa commented on the post, pixels 3 days, 23 hours ago
I saw her so clearly through those lullabies. I saw her orange, curly hair, her bright blue eyes, and her porcelain skin. Her soft, tiny hand reached for mine, but instead of the touch flowing into my skin smoothly, it felt like pixels rubbing hard against each other. Little did this innocent girl know, her orange hair would turn brown and frizzy, green would pollute her eyes, and her nose would shine fiercely in the heat. She would turn into what I saw in the mirror every day, and I was afraid to tell her, mostly because I was afraid she wouldn’t want that future.
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Marissa commented on the post, wrath 5 days ago
I would have done anything for you–anything at all, darling. But you didn’t want any of it. Even when I pushed and prodded, even when I knew I downright annoyed you. Eventually, I had to practice what I preached and get off my damn knees and stop worshiping you like I owed you something. All I owed anyone was my dignity, and you had buried that long ago.
Feel my wrath, you pratt. I’m coming back for everything you hid underneath your guilty feet.
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Emily commented on the post, flee 6 days, 2 hours ago
Run. Run from the memories you thought you left far behind. Run from the pain, the emotions, the conflict and feeling behind every moment. You couldn’t handle it then, what makes you think you’re any better now?
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Marissa commented on the post, flee 6 days, 3 hours ago
I hated that you didn’t stay on weekends. I hated that you texted back only a fraction of what I did. I hated that I always had to plan our hang outs. I hated that you talked about other girls during and after our make outs. I hated that you blamed me for what we did both times to carve the path of innocence into your conscience. I hated when you fled from the truth that April night.
But I never hated you.
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Emily commented on the post, decompose 1 week ago
Roderich tore up the paper and groaned in frustration.
“I just don’t understand it! Who does that idiot think he is, forcing me to write an entire musical score in just five days?! Any half witted simpleton you encounter walking down the street knows you can’t force art!”
Walking into the room and yet another of the overworked Austrian’s outbursts, Elizaveta sighed and approached the sacred piano bench.
“Oh, Roderich, darling, don’t fret so much about it. If there’s one thing you are, it’s a brilliant composer. You’ll manage this somehow, no matter how overwhelming it seems now.”
He scoffed, glancing at the rather large and ever-growing pile of torn paper scatter on the floor. “More like decomposer, if you ask me,” he said, running a hand through his thick, black hair. -
Marissa commented on the post, decompose 1 week ago
I had a dream last night, and I gave you a third chance. People have heard of second chances, and that’s why I gave you one in the first place. You were the only one who got a second chance out of my stubborn hands. But a third, no.That would only come in places after my eyelids had shut and my mind had failed to make any sense. And when the sun rose, the third chance decomposed with the rest of the cobwebs in my brain, and I hit the alarm clock–a check-in to reality.
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catyeah posted an update in the group
Dreams 1 week, 2 days agoMake me gorgeous, make me into a star. Make me into someone that everyone wants to love, and everyone else loves to hate. Make me the kind of woman who can make people fall in love with me the moment they see me. Let me wink and suddenly have complete control over an entire room. Let me be mysterious and exciting and a legend. Let me live on in everyone’s hearts and minds and let them never forget my name. Let me be somebody that everyone knows, make everyone want to know me. Make me a magnet. Make me charismatic and charming and funny and lovable. Don’t make me perfect. Make me flawed, make me significantly flawed. Let me win them all over, then let me die young and leave a beautiful corpse, and let me live on in everyone’s memories as the gorgeous person you made me into. Let me be both famous, and infamous.
That’s my dream. That’s what I want to be. -
catyeah posted an update 1 week, 2 days ago
oh how the wants of the heart evolve
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catyeah posted an update in the group
They said… 1 week, 2 days agodon’t make decisions when you’re upset, and don’t make promises when you’re happy.
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catyeah posted an update in the group
Call It A Diary 1 week, 2 days agoI don’t know what to do. You ask me what’s wrong, and I want to tell you, but I know that if I do, you’ll tell me to stop being dramatic. You’re my dad, aren’t you supposed to care? Aren’t I supposed to be your princess? Or at least something to you?
You say that you “worry” about me, but somehow that “worry” doesn’t kick in until 1045 at night when I haven’t called or texted you or seen you since 8 that morning. How does that work, dad? Do you really care, at all? Or do you want to seem to care so that I can pass it on to mom so she thinks your more responsible and might stop suing you?
Why do you all have these underlying agendas? Is that a normal thing? Do most people have those? Should I just expect that everyone wants something from me? Or that everything they do, they do for their own benefit? I don’t want to think like that. I don’t want to be a cynical teenage girl. I want to believe in fairy tales and godmothers and true love and all that stuff. I don’t want them to be real, I don’t care. I just want to be able to believe in them. I want that shred of hope. Is that too much to ask?
I guess it is. I should’ve known by now that no one will ever really care about me. At least not enough to care about all of me. They love me when I’m laughing with them, they love me when I give them things, they love me when I feel bad for them, or listen to their problems, or make them feel like they might be helping me with mine. But they don’t want to know all of me.
They don’t want to know the terrible, terrible ugly things I do and think and say under my breath. They want to make jokes about me and about the things I say and laugh with me, or even at me, because for some reason, everyone assumes that I’m the kind of person who can take those jokes. Why? I don’t understand.
I’m just like all of you. I don’t like it when people joke about me being stupid or ugly or young or immature or anything. I’ll take it, and I’ll laugh with you for a while, but it gets to a point where I can’t do it anymore. And then I’ll go home and I’ll cry for a bit, and the next day I’ll laugh at myself for crying, because why would I ever have a reason for crying? It’s not like my feelings are significant enough for me to need to cry about them, or express them, or even feel them.
All I’m here for is entertainment. I’m here to make you laugh, to be laughed at, and to laugh with. I’m here to get you heart felt birthday presents and smile at the right times and cry at the right times.
Because it’s okay for me to cry if someone is leaving, and it’s okay for me to cry for someone else, or for something sad that I see, but as soon as I cry for myself, I’m being selfish, or stupid, or dramatic. And even worse? I believe that.
I believe every single terrible thing my step mom has ever told me. I believe that I’m too fat, I believe that I have curves in the wrong places, that I’m a jealous bitch, that I envy other people and that I’ll do anything to sabotage them and get what I want. I believe that I love causing problems for others and I believe that I’m truly a terrible person, deep, deep down, because what else could be true?
I don’t feel envious, and I don’t feel jealous, and I try to be good, I really do, but I’m not, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve been told that as long as I’m pleased with myself, that’s all that matters, but that’s not all that matters.
How am I supposed to be a fair judge of my own character and my own appearance? I’m biased towards myself, I have to be. Isn’t everyone? I need to hear from someone else what I’m doing wrong, so that I can fix it. And don’t tell me that I’m not doing anything wrong, because I know that’s a lie.
I guess that’s why I get so upset sometimes, and why I was so upset today. I love that my friends think that I’m secure enough in myself to joke about me the way they do, but each time they say one of those jokes a teeny tiny bit that hits…[Read more] -
Marissa commented on the post, alarming 1 week, 4 days ago
The sun peeks out from behind the valley hillside, and I’m alarmed at the beauty–at the connection it makes to my life. People have never stayed in my life easily, but the ones who do–they’re special, they’re genuine, they’re selfless people who’ve had shit thrown at them without a helping hand. And those are the people I admire most in life, those are the people that are quite like an orange sunrise–surprising, beautiful, and never expected.
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Marissa commented on the post, montage 1 week, 5 days ago
The rain beat down on the hood of my jacket as my rain boots squished against the muddy hillside. Tears blended in with rain droplets, and the howling wind concealed my sobs. A montage of our memories ran across my brain as I threw the metal box into the mud. Underneath my fingernails went the mud as I dug a nice grave for your things. The box hit with a squish, and I scooped mud over the scene. It was over. This was it.
The final resting place.
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Marissa commented on the post, spilled 3 weeks, 3 days ago
He was late.
Again.
Pulling up outside my house, I jumped in his stupid car before he could open the door for me. I noticed his shirt, and even in the dark, I could tell he had spilled something on it. But I loved him so damn much it didn’t even matter. The only problem was he didn’t even know.
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Marissa commented on the post, clout 3 weeks, 4 days ago
Don’t live in the fucking past, I wanted to tell myself. Our last encounter happened almost two months ago, and it still stuck with me, all of it, even the beginning, back in September. And whenever I saw him, I didn’t want to clout him, like I probably should have. I looked into his blue eyes and wished I was walking beside him, hand in hand–a couple. Of course, the one night I tried to hold his hand, he pushed me away. That’s something couples do. Don’t be stupid.
You’re just a girl of circumstance.
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Marissa commented on the post, wafer 3 weeks, 5 days ago
Even though I know there are loads more bad memories with him, my mind fights against them. The good ones pop up, like the one where we laid in my bed and he brushed my hair behind my ear, the one where he held me just like I wanted, the one where he told me a secret I keep to this day. It’s sickening and irritating, and I wish all the memories would dissolve in water like a wafer on the tongue of a sinner.
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Marissa commented on the post, catapult 4 weeks, 1 day ago
Standing in the heat, I think about last fall. It was just this hot, but I wasn’t as experienced. I hadn’t had my heart broken twice, I hadn’t joined that really rad club, I hadn’t duked it out with my roommate during finals week, I hadn’t gone to that party where I didn’t remember the last twenty minutes. I smiled though. Most of those seem like really bad things, but they made me all the better. Looking back, I feel catapulted to the present, I feel like I can no longer live like that innocent girl who started off college with the flu. Now I’m stronger and wiser, and nobody can take that from me.
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Marissa commented on the post, shoulder 1 month ago
I wasn’t ready to leave, and yet I knew everything good had to come to an end. I finally found my place after months of searching; I finally started feeling independent, comfortable, able. I had found plenty of shoulders that would support me without question and hands to pull me up when I fell. But it was all being ripped away for the time being. Next year, it’d come back but in a different form. Because life doesn’t stop for anybody, and people and places change no matter how much you want things to stay the same.
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catyeah posted an update in the group
They said… 1 month agosomething old, something new, something borrowed, something blue
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catyeah and
Rachel are now friends 1 month ago - Load More
