~poshnia

I was listening to a song earlier, and somehow I felt I had to write something that had a line that I can't even remember anymore. I was going to do something Naruto related, because even tho I'm not reading the new manga, I'm fine with everything before it. But I remember it was really over done, I couldn't really think of anything else to write about other than Naruto, but a second option would be my life. So I wrote, and I really couldn't help from crying. I'm so pathetic <.<;;; Anyway, I would put up a deviation, but I think I'll just leave it to my journal. I really am sorry if you read everything below this[note! everthing in the following is true, except the fact I'm walking down a street, I've never actually done that <.< yeah, I'm THAT pathetic]...

Walking down the street, waiting for everything to be the same again. I looked at my feet, not caring where the path was going as long as I was staying on it. My thoughts walking around the memories my head wouldn't let me forget, racing around the ones I wish had never happened.
A tear runs down my cheek as I remember all those days I sat alone, not being able to remember when finally someone sat next to me.
I sob as I remember the day I could feel fear rush around me as I saw my brothers eyes, scarier than I'd ever thought possible.
'Your so weak...' my mind tells me, 'maybe if you were what you pretend to be you wouldn't be like this, maybe you wouldn't be so useless!'
My breath hitches as it does when I remember those two are dead, remembering their not real. Wishing they were, wishing they were alive.
Wishing they would take me away, and get rid of everything that makes me cry.
A woman stares, glares at me then looks away.
'You cry too much! Stop crying your not getting anywhere, your still as useless, if not more.'
Wishing I weren't too scared of killing myself, wishing that I would be at least able to end my terrible uselessness. I stop in my tracks and fall to the ground holding my self as if it would be a comfort. But it's not, it's just me, this pathetic twelve year old girl. The one who knows people have it worse than her and still cry only for herself. The one who hates most of the days of her life. The one who listens to sad songs in an attempt to cry all her tears away. In a sad attempt to become stronger. Knowing she's never going to be anything special.
No one understands her, only because she doesn't like to talk all that much. All because she lost her friends who probably don't realize she's broken. The only friends she'd had since second grade. The one who had before then never gone to a new school knowing someone from the school before.
The one who's parents she can't talk to and doesn't know why. The one who's brother probably doesn't care whether his family is alive or dead as long as his computer is running right. The one who can't tell her current friends about how she feels but day dreams about it, wondering about if she would maybe she'd be better.
The one who keeps her self in her room for as long as she can just so she doesn't have to talk to anyone in person. The one who can't talk to anyone on the internet because she's scared of even that.
A few minutes pass and I'm still on the ground. Still trying to calm my self down. Still failing miserably as I keep remembering everything wrong. I remind myself that there are so many people in the world who have it so much worse than me, I tell my self over and over. Somehow it makes me cry harder, my eyes hurt now and I need a tissue, or a napkin. But I'm still on the ground.
I remember sixth grade when we were supposed to draw our souls, mine was a flower on a cliff, it was raining. The flower was wilting, and a petal had fallen off. Three tiny needles were tied to the ground trying to hold the flower up. I'm not a flower, I'm not even a bud, but I'm not a seed. I don't know what I am, but I know that those three needles were the flower's best friends, and the flower keeps thinking to itself the needles will always be there. But in the back of the flower's mind it knows that they'll be just like the needles their replacing, they'll be blown away in a harsh wind and the flower will start to fall again, and next time it might not get replacement needles.
My mind has been quiet since it's last outburst but thinking that wakes it up again. 'Get up! If you stay there you'll be just like your flower! But right now, the needles are on break! Stand up on your own for once! Maybe you won't need the needles as much as you do now!' You'd think maybe that was to get me to feel better about myself, but my eyes aren't getting less achy, and my face isn't getting any drier. Sometimes I think I'm out to get me. And maybe I am. I've always said “Life isn't always 'rainbows' and 'butterflies' so end this pity party and deal with it!” Most of the time I've thought it to other people, and sometimes to my self, and I should probably listen to myself. But when I start crying, I say I can't stop. And I really can't, it isn't something I can control, and when I'm reminded of everything, my eyes start hating me.
And I've been crying since line one.