existence.

"Sad stuff makes beautiful poetry, but it's not so pretty to live with." [-Merecat]
*For the Dear Diary Competition*
(I recommend anything beyond 'Tumbling Ash' for the rest is a mess of nonsense words that hold no character, no story and absently fill the page)

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98. Flying Words

 

The day fell like a spiralling rollercoaster and somehow my stomach stayed intact

yet my feelings rolled around as if shaken

by a devastating storm.

 

I've been pinned as the bad guy in a group I don't belong in with people that dislike me

and I feel my self-esteem plummet with the weight of hate,

yet this hate is perhaps too absurd,

for I was supposed to be flying in the clouds and now I am meant to be submerged in them

as if choking on their bitter sweetness

and drowning myself in his heartache for no reason other than his over-reactions.

 

Perhaps only one conversation seemed to soothe my pain,

although I should not take it as too much

for old memories turn to old pain and then everything collapses back into the twisting

awkwardness encasing us both.

 

So I sit with my heart feeling for once heavy wanting to message so many people

and knowing every single one is a horrific mistake.

 

-12th January 2016

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