At Least I'm Connected To My Bloodline.

At least I'm connected to my bloodline.

@jugheadjones94 my friend suggested that we watch flatliners and when I remembered that Kiefer sutherland was in it I thought of you

Like you.

I will never have silky, long hair that cascades down my back, I will never have gorgeous eyes that are the perfect shade of black, I will never be so kind that the world is grateful, I will never be so beautiful that the world is hateful. Simply put: I will never be like you. My abnegation barely runs skin deep, My emotions are something that only I keep, I won't do something to get his attention, No one ever knows I'm feeling tension. Simply put: I am not like you. I have never dreamt of a simple life, Pretty pinks are something I've never liked, I've never been as gentle as a soft breeze, I've never been able to make his knees weak. Simply put: I have never been like you. But I've at least been like me.

Random writing

Bleak sunlight was refracted through the pristine glass, casting glimpses of colour inside the perfect prison. The light persisted until it reached a softly sleeping figure, dancing off her porcelain skin and highlighting her rouged lips. Her eyelids gently fluttered open, revealing deep chestnut orbs that explored the morning scenery. Her glossy, dark curls settled themselves as she tilted her head, gaining a greater view of her surroundings. Her smooth skin contrasted her prescribed snowy, white dress gorgeously as she moved her arm towards the glass that enveloped her. Her long fingers grazed the cool surface as though she was reluctantly reaching for something. Letting her arm fall lifelessly to the floor, she focused her attention on standing. Pushing her weight onto her hands, she was just able to stand up again. The tousled white silk glided across the floor as she took silent steps towards the outside world, only to be interrupted by the ever-present glass once again. She pressed her delicate hands against the glass, taking a deep breath as she caught a brief reflection of herself. Curly hair styled perfectly, cascading down the most expensive and elegant ivory garment. Yet her full lips never curved into a genuine smile. She was trapped within a false paradise. Everything seemed so perfect to everyone apart from her, onlookers that projected their preferences onto her, rewriting her life. Disregarding her thoughts, feelings and life. She was encased in a glass box, purely created to entertain others and she was perfect for the job. Her facade had been impeccable for years, she had programmed mental queues that dictated her character. Forever fading and forever evolving, she was her world's creation. A perfect projection of what everyone wanted. Everyone apart from her. No one could reach her, they never would. They'd stare in admiration or fear, staying silent and never attempting to shatter her cage. Why couldn't any of them understand? She longed to be like them. All she wanted was true freedom.

My ocean

It's odd. When I'm truly sad about something I can't cry. No matter how much I want to, my body won't let me, it's some perverted form of torture. The pain wells up inside me but never finds release, the tears never fall. So it keeps building up and building up until I've reached my breaking point. Then it all tumbles out at once. I breathe so much that I suffocate on air, I cry so much that I drown in my own tears and I scream so much my throat swells and closes. I'm violently thrown into the crashing waves of my emotions that have been forced into isolation for so long. And every time, I almost die.

About blog 2:

(Because `I forgot to add this in the first one) ((Something tells me this won’t be the last “About blog”)) I’ll write about a gamut of anime and manga but specify which one in the request.  (((I’m also doing match-ups)))

2D: ya know what’s kind of weird? some people name cats “whiskers.” that’s a cat’s body part. that’s so wild. i’m gonna name my son leg