renata
the irony of the word
today after a pessimistic meeting with my mother and those who shall reman unmanned, i was given the title of clinically depressed. say i dont have an "optimistic out look on life" well there is a shocker.
cannon- a N= Canon
my camera
my baby
who i named mr.darcy.
beautiful.
all night we sat to chat.
you hid behind your words
and i behind my camera
sending a statement to the other coffee shop goers
dont bother our relationship has begun
despite the comments the laughter and snide remarks
we remained
until closing,
consumed in each others presence.
but now what am i left with?
nothing but your words
what you hide behind
meaning nothing but that
im running out of ink in my typewriter.
the stamps i stuck one by one, individual stamps on each envelope would define my fate. my letter going to him, would he read it? does he even want to hear from me? will he write me back? only my stamps will tell.
a possibility is whatever you make it.
there can be none of them. up to you.
there can be thousands of them. still up to you.
there is no fate.things dont happen on their own.
get up and do something.
create the possibilities. you choose.
Her teeth gridded on one another in desperate attempts to withhold the noise of her sobs from escaping her perfectly miserable mouth.
i have this paper in front of me. i just filled it out. it is to be transported tomorrow morning at 9 to a new therapist. this should be interesting. every question. every. single. one. i answered with my usual dry cynical mocking tone.
"please describe any problems you have experiencing with your children?"
- i will let you know it 20 years
"where do you work?"
- im actually an underpaid child worker.
"how long have you worked in that position?"
- 16 long ass years.
it hurts. just the sound of it. the harsh letters all in a row.
but are not most words? most have some way of becoming harsh. sharp. hurtful.
one spiteful sharp tongue the world has been blessed with.
The structure in this was all wrong.
The thing she most relied on was weak, broken, and the worst thing to use as a base. But yet her friend stays as her crutch, her base, not out of pity, but out of love. For the girl who is leaning needs some life line, or some dear friend to keep her afloat. The leaning girl wants nothing more to drown in shallow sea of sorrows and fears. But the weak girl, the one who is broken and still being leaned upon, she with some power is standing. such an odd sight to watch, to see the broken become strong only in the need of another.
this friendship was beautiful. the outline for philia. (brotherly love)
Your love lay out on a plat ter. It was so cap ti vat ing. With every reason I was so very tempted to taste, touch, sample your love. Some thing i dare not do with any other man. But you were different, cliche it might be, but true none the less. Every moment of this realization concluded in ardent heartfelt tears. These were for you, and never intended for any other beauty.
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