Dont Mind Me

don’t mind me

Don’t mind me Just keep doing what you’re doing Don’t mind me I’m just here to see the view Don’t mind me Just keep living how you’re living and maybe someday I can learn how to live like you do.

Don’t mind me Just keep smiling like you’re smiling Don’t mind me I’m just here to sing these blues Don’t mind me Just keep laughing like you’re laughing and maybe someday I can learn how to laugh like you do

Don’t mind me I’ve a fondness for exploring Don’t mind me Yeah this happens all the time Don’t mind me I just wanna see your beauty I wanna see a soul being kind

after laughs

She takes a deep breath in and immediately regrets it because now she doesn’t know what to do with all this excess air. She can feel it taking up space and swirling around behind her ribs. It makes her feel giddy and confused and completely delirious.

So she laughs.

Only it feels more like sobbing.

And once she’s run out of air for laugh-sobbing, she inevitably takes another breath and is forced to start all over again.

She laugh-sobs until the muscles in her stomach tense so hard they hurt, and her fists curl into themselves like black holes.

She uses up all the air until she isn’t breathing at all.

⚘⚘ SEND THIS TO TEN BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE AMAZING. SPREAD THE LOVE. ( ﾉ ꒪▿꒪)ﾉ*

THANK YOU ELEA!! I think you’re pretty amazing too 💗💗

broken zipper

At first, it was just a vacation. I still had the old house, I just ate dinner at a different table. I slept in a different bed, but my old room was still there. I still had that connection. That promise to return. That reason to go back.

It was sold. Now someone I don’t know lives in my house. My room.

But still, there was the car. My mom’s gargantuan silver Toyota. The one we’d had since I was in elementary school. The only car that didn’t make me totally motion sick. I held onto that for a while.

It was totaled. They let me keep the mangled license plate. It was lost among the boxes.

And it keeps going like that. I comfort myself with a different item from my life,    from when I was actively living my life, each one more insignificant than the last, until something happens to take it away from me.

like the backpack from my old school its zipper broke and it’s close to unusable but i’m stubborn i guess or the binder i bought just because it was the same brand as the one i used a few years ago it ripped in half so i tape it back together every time the tape wears off

secondhand

She herself had nothing in particular about her that would make her subject to verbal or physical abuse. She herself was born with nothing in particular about her that would make someone dislike themselves. She watched the life around her like a movie, never feeling truly involved, but that fact not bothering her in the slightest. The only thing that kept her connected to this world was her wild and bucking emotion. Sometimes her best friend would go to her for advice, but not because she knew anything about what was happening to them. They would go to her because they knew that she knew about feelings. They were bad at feelings. So she felt for the both of them. She would tell them whatever she felt about what they were feeling. She never knew if she was helping. She liked to think so. And she felt very deeply about them and these problems that were so important to them. She found that it was important to her as well. She found that helping them out with their baggage helped her sort out her own life, even if she never went to anyone else with questions. And along the line, she started to wonder if she was so comfortable with giving all of this advice because she was similar feelings. But that didn’t make sense, she would know. She knows about feelings. But that one thought made her think, maybe she really didn’t know that much at all.

bruised stars

Her hands—always freezing—they are alive. Her dead eyes are blinded by city lights. She counts blessings until she adds up five And now she struggles with putting up fights.

She doesn’t have a personality. She owns every one of them, all at once, Mind dancing with originality. She aches to be gone but she’s been here months.

Her laughs and smiles are a bit too forced. No one seems to notice her behavior. Her humor has become too stiff and coarse. She has long stopped waiting for her savior.

Her sky is filled with jet black and bruised stars So she seeks refuge in distant sandbars.