7rivers

You know that feeling when it all falls apart? A sound of a crack forming in the middle of your heart. A moment of perfect oblivion, or oblivious perfection, followed by nothing… but pain in it's purest form. Something is trying to break through your thorax. There's a scream trapped inside your voice box, struggling to fill the air but you transform it into a pitiful gagging sound because they taught you it was impolite to yell (even when you think you're slowly dying). You're a loser. Sitting in a darkened room, pressing a Marlboro cigarette between your never-kissed-lips, your watery eyes ailing in the artificial light of a cheap c

I wish you were a bad person. I wish you had a third eye. Or a nose that grows out of your ear. I wish you peed in your bed. I wish you had a rottweiler and I wish it bit me. I wish you had a car and I wish you hit me. I wish you put worms in my lunch when we were kids. I wish you were obsessed with Golden girls. I wish you weren't born in this town at all. I wish I had a reason not to like you the way I do. I wish I was strong enough to fight the butterflies in my stomach When you accidentally brush your knee against mine under the table. I wish I was cool enough so I wouldn't be struck by a little lightning Every time you

Lilly wishes to be punched. Words flow from his mouth and creep under her skin, like germs. He smiles. She's trying to make herself think that he smiles just because he's not aware of their effect on her. She knows she's wrong. He leaves her bleeding, bruised, butchered, but he does it in such a subtle way that nobody notices her pain. How very wise of him, how very thoughtful. He's so funny, she's so not. He's so smart, and, oh, she's just the opposite. She wants to respond, dreaming of her revenge. But whenever he says something mean, she freezes like a deer caught in the flashlights. Sometimes she tries to talk, but all the words mi

It's only when the rainy days come that you realize the value of friendship. Each of us used to be a lone wolf back in the days. We never knew how it felt to be a part of the crowd, to be loved, to fit in. We were torn inside, insecure, beaten. We were more than familiar with that awful feeling of sadness, and therefore capable of recognizing it in others. Slowly and carefully we let ourselves explore each other. And soon enough, we were a crowd. Ten of us. We had a nerd, a skater, a punk, a rocker, an artist, a freak, a goth, a preppy girl… We were all different, yet somehow the same. We were weird, and for the first time in our short

I refuse to be Pretty Just because the magazine says so. I refuse to be Sexy Just because the TV tells me to. I refuse to be Lovely Just because everyone thinks I should. I refuse to be Thrown away Just because I'm not all the things I refused to be. Because I think And I may be wrong But I think That I'm good enough Just being me :)

You walk down the hall, staring at the floor, biting your lip, scratching your head. So ignorant, so unaware. Occasionally, you bump into someone, raise your head and mutter a quiet apology. You think you're just an ordinary boy. You try so much not to try at all. You care so much about not caring. You're so perfect in such a non-perfect way. You may think you're invisible because of your forced plainness, but the only ones that come unnoticed are all the girls that pray to God every single night for tomorrow to be the day when your eyes finally meet theirs. But the day like that is never going to come, is it? Because the ocean beneath you

Tommy digs his fingers into the mud. He's on his back, blinking at the sun that's shining above him. What a fucking beautiful day. He doesn't feel like getting up. A lost toy lying in the middle of a school playground. Occasional passengers glimpse from behind the fence. He's empty. It always takes a while before the bruises start to form. He's still looking pretty white – no purple stains all over his body yet. There is a fiddling amount of fresh blood on his face, though. His nose hurts like hell. Teachers notice, but they don't say anything. Not their business. Mom thinks boys must be boys and boys wanna fight, and besides, it's j

You're in my reach but I can't touch you. Everything about you, your hair, your smile, your smell, your oversized clothes… Everything about you feels like an invitation to me. While you're sitting there next to me, you're looking the other way. At the same time, my gaze is pointed at the back of your head, and I'm wondering why I always choose the hard way. You're my hard way, you're the road to happiness I will never ever cross. Ever. Oh, and those rare moments when you actually look at me, and smile at me, and talk to me – I cherish them more then anything. You don't even know how special you are. I love the way you usually

You were drunk when you said you loved me. I was stuck cleaning the mess you've made when you said you loved me. Your arms were around me (but not because you loved me but because you needed someone to lean on - you were dizzy and losing your balance) when you said you loved me. I just blushed when you said you loved me. I just smiled when you said you loved me. You also said I was a great person when you said you loved me. You also said I was special when you said you loved me. You called me the sweetest thing when you said you loved me. Hell, you even called me hot when you said you loved me. And everyone burst laughing when you sa

It's Thursday. Only few minutes left until midnight. Time heals. Tomorrow is a new day to make everything the way it should be. So here I am. With a bowl of vanilla-flavored ice cream, trying to melt my sorrows away. Tiny digits in the left bottom corner of the computer screen slowly shifting, as well as those on my cellphone. The clock hanging on the wall above is ticking rithmically, as well as the watch on my wrist. The watch you said looked funny. But I'm not getting better with every minute that goes by. And tomorrow doesn't seem any different, it's just an extension of today. Hell, we were so good together. You made me feel all want