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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2. Intruding Youth

 

Today is just a mix-match of blurred memories and strange

names and fatigue.

 

It has become a routine to visit

and see the little Year 7's,

(my sister amongst them)

and pester them to such a degree that they swear vividly.

 

I feel awkward.

And stupid.

And alone.

I feel like I should not be there.

They are friends. We are older girls.

They probably just want peace. To be alone.

 

A friend of ours,

a boy in the young year,

had cheeks stained with salt tears and a mouth full of half-chewed baguette.

My friends could not understand the word

'leaving'.

Oh no,

they talked and poked and hugged and pestered.

Until the poor boy gave away his sandwich and lay with his head in his bag,

probably wishing upon silence. Blissful silence.

 

To which he did not receive.

 

My eyes drooped as minutes flew,

bouncing from ecstatic aliveness,

to sorrowful tiredness.

Lessons grew boring.

Very

very

boring.

 

My stomach feels large.

I have eaten more than usual.

In comparison to the normal one meal a-day and snack,

I wolfed upon chocolate and crisps and ice cream.

How fat do I want to be?

I suppose, it must be,

the cardio

I shall turn to.

 

Tomorrow is to be my

'school/friend birthday celebration'

I am predicted chocolate.

Fattening chocolate.

Great.

 

But, I am thankful for all presents.

For all friends.

I hold them dear,

although they can drag their scratching nails

along my nerves many times in a day.

 

I feel like burying my head in music,

and letting the dangling notes surround my problems and drift them

far far away.

If only.

If only.

 

-Wednesday 20th May 2015

 

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