Tracing my fingers along the cracked glass, I think to myself in a most peculiar light.
If all I can see in the mirror is shadows from the past, does my present even exist at all?
The reflection staring back at me is stained and dirty-memories of what could have been.
What does it mean? Who am I… and will I ever truly be okay with the answer to that question?
Hush. Silent lulls of my history hum to me in haunting tunes of requisition.
"Come back to me…". They hiss.
But I can’t I can’t go back- I REFUSE TO.
At that moment all I can see is shards of reflecting hate exploding off of the dirty wall as my hand smashes do
Don’t make a good man.
Be a better woman.
Be the best damn woman you can be, you know why?
Because if you are hell of a lot better than he will ever be…
Maybe one day you will realize that you have more worth than to sit around and waste tears on somebody who will never be as good as you are.
So please, don’t waste your time trying to “Fix” or “Save” him from himself-
Don’t make a good man….
Just be a better woman.
Giving up for the right reasons. by lolli47, literature
Literature
Giving up for the right reasons.
I cradle my addiction dearly in my hands
And it occurs to me suddenly
That all this time spent wasting away and trying to die young
Is only wearing me out further
How can somebody who fights so hard to die actually achieve such a feat?
If you set yourself up for failure, that is what you shall achieve.
And a failure of suicide simply does not die.
I’m thinking that there must be glimmer of hope for all of us
The fallen ones
The ones who have tried to get up just to be broken again
If you have swallowed handfuls of pills
And handfuls of tears
To try to end it all
And woken up the next day
Doesn’t that mean you’re here fo