She

She

“You’re lovely,” you say.

“No,” I reply.

“Yes. You are,” you argue.

It is a half-hearted argument to you. A game. It is all fun and games. Until someone gets hurt. Until you realize someone was already hurt. LOng before the game started. 100 million rounds ago.

 I am not lovely. She is.

Yes. This girl you fall in love with. This girl who tells you that you are beautiful and somehow always knows the right things to say. No one ever asks her how she always knows just what to say, to mend a soul, to send your demons to sleep. 

She is lovely. Isn't she.

This object of my creation. A beautiful girl thing isn't she. Most agree. You seem to agree. You see I’ve been doing this for a while. The trick is to get it just right. Just the right amount of flaw to make her loveable. Just little cute things.Quirks. You love her. 

I am jealous of her, this girl I have created, from myself. 

Selected the likable things, cut away everything else. Cut it away. Shoved the bloody, broken parts of me in a box, tucked out of sight. In a notebook under the mattress. In a box on the top shelf at the back of the closet. The thoughts under lock and key in my head. So you will never have to see these parts of me, at least when I am with you. Except thoughts aren't so easily locked away. Little things you say, small compliments, pick the lock on the door to these thoughts quite often. You catch glimpses of me then. That is not the girl you call lovely.

She is lovely. I know.

I've been doing this for a long time. Long enough to know how they like them. I character myself to every person I meet. Little things. I’ve got the formula down. I think. Just enough of yourself, but not too much. Too much and you've tipped your hand. They know you. Where to hurt you. You've lost the game. Bet you forgot this was a game. This is a game. And I am determined to win, with this lovely cater I have created, for myself, from myself. 

She is lovely.

My Soft Edges

*Eating disorder trigger warning*

All my edges have been Softened.                                                                      All my hollows filled out.                                                                                           Every sign of my pain erased.                                                                         Except of course everything that never can be.                                                       I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss it.                                                                         The ache in my bones reminding me I was alive.                                                    The ache in my soul finally manifesting in a way people could see my hurt. Reminding me I was alive.                                                                                      You have to be living to be dying.                                                                         All my edges sharp edges have been softened.                                                 Little pockets of flesh pad them down. Away. Out of sight.                                          I suppose they are supposed to do the same thing with the pain.                    Maybe not though.                                                                                                  Maybe they know exactly what they're doing.                                                        The padded edges, my padded body.                                                                      My own quilted isolation chamber.                                                                          My pain isn't their problem anymore.                                                                  My cries padded down.                                                                                            Away. Out of sight.                                                                                                  All my edges have been smoothed.                                                                    It makes my pain a little easier to swallow for them.                                              All my hollows filled out.                                                                                           It makes me it a softer thing to brush aside.                                                            But me?                                                                                                                    I am still here.                                                                                                      Crying out in this padded cell.                                                                                Still cutting myself on all the sharp edges and trying to fill these deep deep hollows

Updated List :)

Books I've read

Series:

Series of Unfortunate Events Series (Lemony snicket )

Chronicles of Narnia (CS Lewis)

Uglies series (Scott Westerfeild)

Matched trilogy (Allie Condie)

The selection series + happily ever after (Keira Cass)

Twilight saga + life and death (Stephine Myer)

Delirium Series (Lauren Oliver)

Shadow children series (Haddix)

Divergent trilogy + four (Veronica Roth)

Legend trilogy (Marie Lu)

The lunar chronicles + Fairest (Marisa Meyers)

Fifty shades series (EL James)

The hunger games trilogy (Suzanne Collins)

Slated trilogy (Teri Terry)

The giver quartet (Louis Lowery)

The darkest powers (Kelly Armstrong)

Juliette chronicles/shatter me series (Teharah Mafi)

Destroy Me + Fracture Me (shatter me)

Daughter of Smoke and Bone Trilogy (Lani Taylor)

The mortal instruments (Cassie Clare)

The infernal devices (ll)

The dark artifices (ll)

Shadowhunter academy + the shadowhunter codex+The bane CHRONICALS (ll)

Unwind Series (Neal Shusterman) Wake Series

Half Bad Series (Sally Green)

  Duoligy:

If I stay + where she went (Gayle Forman)

Slammed + point of retreat (Coleen Hoover)

End of days + regenesis (Eric Walters)

This Dark Endevour+Such Wicked Intent (Kenneth Oppel)

Hold Me like a Breath+ Break Me Like A Promise

Incarceron + sappique (Catherine Fisher)

  Single Books:

The host (Stephine Meyer)

Power Play (Eric Walters)

Chains (Laurie Halse Anderson)

How we fall (Kate Brauning)

Thirteen Reasons Why (Jay Asher)

Sins of the mother (Irene Kelly)

My heart and other black holes (Jasmine Warga)

Speechless (Hannah Harrington)

Eleanor and park (Rainbow Rowell)

November 9 (Coleen Hoover)

The girl with all the gifts (Mike Carey)

Dove arising (Karen Bao)

Red wolf (Jenifer Dance)

Enthralled (Kelly Armstrong, Melissa Marr and other authors)

Room (Emma donoghue)

What happened to goodbye (Sarah Dessen)

The Handmaid’s Tale (Margret Atwood)

Half Brother (Kenneth Oppel)

Diary of Anna Frank

Brave New World

We are all Made of Molecules

  Discontinued Books:

Red queen series (second book) (Victoria Aveyard)

Rule of three (first book) (Eric Walter)

You are mine (first book) (Janeal Falor)

Crewel World (first book)

  Currently Reading:

Half Wild - Sally Green (Half Bad book#2)

She was simply lovely the poems say. But she was not simply anything. And that is why i loved her. She was complex and interesting. She was unique and beautiful. And she was lovely but not simply she was a complex sort of beauty.   

Ghost girl

Despite all of this. I did not fall in love with her because she was broken. I did not fall in love with her because I found it captivating how the light refracted of her broken pieces casting shadows and blinding colourful light dazzling those around her. No. Yes I loved her for her broken too. Because when you love someone with depression you love their monsters too. But no. I fell in love with her because she owned her broken. She did.not push it away. Try to drown it in her own tears. I fell in love with her because she knew that she was not broken. That she was fractured over and over again everyday and she knew that humans we're capable of amazing things. Like healing, and defying odds and learning to love again. I fell in love with her because she made the most of the time when she could breath. She talked. So much. She laughed. So loud. She smiled and ranted and dazzled those around her. And she did not need the light to refract off her to captivate people. Her jagged edges and smooth surface and her existence did that. She did that all on her own. When she spoke people rolled their eyes and smiled and listened. When she wrote. My god when she wrote. Their are no words to express the masterpieces she spinned with her thoughts fingers weaving unforgiving sentences that would hold you captive and you would love in every  gripping moment and sometimes you want to stop. You don't want to read  this anymore. Feelings  spilling over this dam you have built around your  soul and yet you cannot let go until they said you could. She wrote unimaginable joy and heart shattering grief, she wrote excruciating  pain with metaphors that made you gasp for air. On the bad days. On the bad days she is still broken glass. Fragile and breakable and jagged. Except their is no light. She lives in a box that removed her from the world blocks the light out. Everything seems dimmer un important not worth it. She feels dimmer un important not worth it. She stares at the pane of glass that is her heart. The serrated edges. The cracks that are still healing the chips in the glass that will take longer than forever to heal. She looks in the mirror and says how.ugly. what an awful sight. And so she cuts herself on her sharp edges trying to pull them off...but she applied to.much pressure all she does is bleed and break the glass even more. I don't understand but sometimes when all you have left is yourself self-destruction is such a sweet saviour.

She brought with herself the calm of the ocean but also the tidal waves 💙 (Kinda reminds me of the selection)