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tab Throughout my life, I can't help but realize that I am different from all the other people around me. I have noticed, as my friends go and have fun at the mall and sleep over at one anothers' houses, that I am left out, almost a person from a completely different world. I believe that others have realized this too, but for some reason, they won't tell me. Am I unapproachable? Am I too emo for them to handle? What seems to be their problems anyway?
My Life
tab Music is a huge part of my life lately. It helps to release my emotions in a less harmful way. I just can't explain it. Many people criticize that the music option I prefer is too evil, sinister, and probably bad for my health. But they aren't me, so why should they care? They aren't me, so how do they know what is best for me? The answer is that they don't. And its completely not my fault that I have become this thing that I myself has trouble recognizing as myself anymore.
tab I was constructed, much like the ancient Roman statues of Julius Ceasar or other great emperors, from the people around me. It took the erosion of many people's long and enduring criticism to wear me down to what I am today. I can't place polish on myself and expect to look brand new again.
tab I find myself, ever since I could write, making up stories and poetry, and that had always been my escape from this life that I live in now. My stories are normally based on what I feel that day. If I am feeling happy, then the characters will be happy or accomplish something great. Yet, on the other hand, if I am depressed that day, I make the characters pay for my invisible pain. Some of them die. Usually thats how my characters end up, dead by the end. People love that about my stories, the characters are dead! How unique. But they don't realize that sometimes, I wish those characters were me.
tab The poems I write are dark and depressing, letting my heart spill out the blood that holds as much pain as I can bare. They normally consist of my emotions, once again. But these emotions are stronger than what I had originally placed in my stories. Poetry, it flows out of my heart, not my mind and thoughts. My poems come straight from my veins, right from the soul. They are deeper and deeper into the black hole that is my heart, the abyss that is my existence.
tab The only thing that is happy in my life, is possibly a few songs that I write. They can consist of many things, break ups, loving someone, hating someone, maybe even one or two about war. But they aren't as important to me as poems and stories so I won't let that get in the way of this.
tab To end your suffering, I am about to place in a few things that describe me. In my life I have acted as though I was someone I wasn't. I have found and heard songs that describe me. Here are some lyrics of those songs:
Quote:I've gone for too long living like I am not alive, so I am going to start over tonight . . . -Paramore, "Miracle"Quote:She cries, because she lost, and she doesn't even know what she wants. Her eyes, go cold as she begs the world to just let her go . . . She lives and breathes in a world that brought her to her knees . . . She cries, because she's lost and she doesn't even know what she wants. And she hides, all alone, inside that pain that she won't let go . . . Watching her life pass her by, watching it all through her watering eyes . . . - Madina Lake, "Adalia"
tab This is my life, through my eyes.
- by Miss_Depressive |
- Non Fiction
- | Submitted on 04/03/2009 |
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- Title: Through My Eyes
- Artist: Miss_Depressive
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Description:
This is an artical that states how I see my life, life itself. Hopefully, you're one of those few people that actually understands me . . .
- Date: 04/03/2009
- Tags: through eyes
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Comments (1 Comments)
- humpty_bumpty - 04/10/2009
- ..god i am about to cry over that... i use music as an escape too. it seems to soothe me when i am angry at the only person who can make me angry, it helps with the sadness i feel at times. and it helps with the dismal outlook i know this world has and is rapidlyrunning at it face first alost like running into a brick wall, not smart but who hell knows why we do it..
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