I Don’t Know How Long I Can Continue This Pathetic Life. My One And Only Vice Is Gone And Now I’m

God I hate her

Please, may she be the end of me.

I don’t want it any other way

I feel, so tired.

Ive always thought that j was content with my socail circle. Ive a lot of acquaintances and everyone knows my name. Adults consider me charming and im more than often invited out.

Still i have no one.

Say prehaps a book that is covered in emerald green flowers lays ahead of you. Its pages bent and the spine of it ceased. This book has been pages through a few times but its beauty is retained. You would look at this book and understand that it is not a quick read merely by its thickness. Tis only when you open the book would you realise that its writting is miniature, almost requiring a magnifying glass.

Although this novel is garenteed to interest and change your life, the minor inconveniences make you flee. Leaving the book to be engulfed by ratchet vines that suffocate it.

To make the outside of the book would be the solution to making this novel more captivating. This belief in itself opposes the notion that media presents.

I am not good enough… for i can be better, as toxic as it is, it seems to be a solution nonetheless

Once again I feel like the world is craving in on me. The memory of someone that passed haunts me. What could I have done to make his short life more pleasing, he died feeling distaste for me, how pathetic I am for being with one of his friends.

And what makes this even sadder is that I’ve made my grief all about me. It’s like this disgusting self centred attitude makes path to my selfishness. It scares me.

i’ll protect you from all the things i’ve seen

Jane O. Wayne // Kate Jacobs

the page

pushed to the margins

abandoned with blue strips

forced against red lines that corner me

once white, now scribbled on carelessly

in deep black ink that smudges me

dents through all of me

find me a way to erase

to start again and hope to be apprepiated

that i can be the writer and not the page

Wish I was a boy