My first little writerscafe piece.

For the purpose of possibly making this piece easier to imagine, to hopefully allow you to fully indulge yourself in my words, Ive written this as if I.. Am you. I want you to step into my world.

Blue eyes. The taste of the words on the tip of your tung but held prisoners by your memory, you can't speak.
Slightly chubby, hardly completely semetrical facial features, passable as beautiful in only serton lights or when seen from serton angles.
Anxiety. You feel, think, care to much.
Depression. You don't care nearly enough...
Passion. The occasional burst of random motivation fuled by the raw fire somewhere inside of you capable of fighting through ANYTHING... When it has something to fight for.
Confusion.
...Bipolar?
Emptiness.
Fullness fulled by fatness that others try to talk you out of feeling/ thinking about.
Anger ready to smash every mirror you eagally, regularly stare into hoping somehow that the image staring back will have changed.
Disappointment.
Sometimes you deprive your self of the possibility of brilliance just to save yourself from the possibility of disappointment. Your not quite sure how much you can take.
But you realise the levels high, it's been tested, pushed and pressured many many times before.
It's a simple tolerance you've almost mastered.
Adaptation. Because survival instincts are one thing that are on your side. Forced into coping with environmental changes that impose themselves on your innocents and smear there brutal truth on your ignorance.
When needing a break from coping as to continue servinging or at least simply existing, your allowed to escape. Your aloud a little boost to hold your hand through out the ride.
Music. Numb your conscience as you flick the switch onto shuffle on your play list to acumponny your auto poileted life.
Music. The fireworks of passion filled masses of beauty an sparks of art forms found simply NO place els. Sanctuary.
Look as you listen. The perfectly crisp fresh airs drenched in early eavening golden sun soaking the autom leavs in gloreous beauty. Sweet warm coffee smells inhailed with every nostril flaring inward-breath. The soft dry ground supports your feet as you softly pad along, cat like, in your stride. The crunchy, colourful, transitioning leaves occasionally fall onto the deep, still lake, interrupting it's silence only to create ripples of natures artwork. This seanary almost describes your definition of perfection. Happiness. You feel at peace.
But you feel lonlyness.
You watch the trail of your emotions start to drift.
You feel the bueaty and magnificenct canvas of an artist around you only to realise you ruin the painting.
Your pure existence disturbs the perfection,
And you can't STAND the way that feels.

..I can't STAND it.

Reviews

[Irene Willis]

I want to hug you so badly right now, you don't even know. Your writing is so beautiful, and so incredibly relatable. Thank you so much for sharing. I only wish you had more for me to read... :)

And please don't be so hard on yourself. You're amazing. I mean it

[Curiouslyrecordingmylife]

Thank you so much! I only signed up to this the other day which is why I've only posted a couple of pieces, but I intend to Write much more in the future! I'm overjoyed that the first person fo comment on my work has such inspiring and positive things to say! ..Yay! When I have time I definetly intend to check out whatever amazing writing I'm sure you've done.
Oh also, considering I'm just a random stranger, "amazing" is one hell of a compliment! Thank you!

[Irene Willis]

No problemo. Just speaking my mind :)