Let's Blur The Lines Together

Grab a pen, and open a vein.

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People think they know what I write about but they’d be surprised if they really knew.

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And that was the moment she looked in the mirror and finally accepted that her life was never going to be what she thought it would.

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I think the hardest part of me being a writer is that I’m terrified to see the things I think actually written down. It’s bad enough I think them, why would I want them on paper? That’s why I usually only write things that I get from a friend’s problem or a simple random thought I have. I’m my own writer’s block.

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I woke up missing you and I’ve been living with the same ache all day. An ache you’ll never understand, for you don’t know what it’s like to love somebody that doesn’t love you.

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The hard part, she realized, wasn’t going to be forgiving him. It was going to be forgiving herself. And, somehow, she knew that could never happen.

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The room grew quiet and her mind grew loud. Close your eyes, she thought. So she did. Nothing could be seen, though, except his face. Open your eyes, she screamed on the inside. So she did. And, still, she saw his face. And in that moment she realized he’d never be back. She was different, he was different, the world was different. The only thing that hadn’t changed was that she missed him terribly.

Filed under best friend of the past

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I’m just a girl with a knack for putting beautiful words into heart-breaking sentences.

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She was terrified. That was the complete truth. Nothing but terrified and hurt and alone. And she just wanted somebody to realize that and do something about it. But she kept as quiet as she could and just clung onto herself in the cold of the night. She was all she’d have in the end anyway.

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Nobody knows her better than the four walls of her bedroom, and maybe nobody ever will.