Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before.

Today was my sixteenth birthday. Sweet Sixteen. It wasn't really sweet to tell you the truth. It kinda sucked. What is it with birthdays and how they make you depressed? For me, it's an excellent chance to sit and contemplate my life. Believe me, it brings you down. I got picked in class by my literature teacher, that coupled with the fact that we'll have three tests on Friday doesn't exactly make me insane with joy. All in all, not my best birthday memories.But come on, world/God, it's my sixteenth birthday. Does that not mean anything?

Ah. Must stop acting emo.

So everyone I don't know in this different world, check this out. You know, it'll just be my OWN friends who'll comment so what the heck. Must also stop acting pessimistic. Dude, I can't help myself. I am, after all, sixteen:

What is with trying to lose yourself that never works out?

Anyway:



Ambiguous|Ambience


It was at that moment. The moment, I knew, just knew that I could not help her. That I never would be able to. I had tried, oh yes, to save her, for she is my life. But then maybe I fell from grace, or it might have been her. But just as second nature, like you give up on life, I did her. I gave up on her.

Every step I took after that one moment has haunted me, crushed me, killed me. I wish, with all my heart, with the intensity of that one time, that I had just turned around, or stopped, or waited; yet I am glad I did not. I counted every step I took and I think, so did she.

I did, you know, stop for a while. That while has cost me more than I ever fathomed it would. To me, it was someone I left behind, someone quite unlike me, but me. It cost me myself. Back there in the darkness, in the pregnant hiatus, when I stopped to catch myself, I lost me.

But try as I might, I cannot lose her. The way her face tilted upwards, the peal of laughter fluttering from within her, like a butterfly. Or maybe a swarthy moth. The way the sun’s rays fell upon her, so she remained perpetually illuminated… The way her lips curled into a half-smile and how she looked right up at me, how we connected, nose to nose, brow to brow, formed our own world. But we were just refined parasites, and the world was either too kind, or too callous. It was crude but intricate, still spinning, still pulling us in.

Like a grotesque folklore, but most unlike it, because of me.

Because I managed to do what all those princes and Romeos had not.

I gave her up. I walked away, I broke everything. Maybe I did lose her.

I said goodbye instead.


______


So yes people. Check it out.

Hope you don't know me,

pluto88.