I'd give practically everything i've got to know exactly what i want and what i feel on the inside.
I'll wake up in the morning, but by noon be someone different
and i'd like to shoot these contradictions in the fucking face.
And all i want is to sit and talk with someone who enthralls me.
--- me
----------------------------------
and the rest of this, I just felt like sharing..... I had been posting all of this in my livejournal, which I won't be doing anymore, and a lot of it really actually dates back... but, some people have to take stuff from you and say it is theirs, I guess in order to feel better about themselves, or claim they have some sort of talent, or something... anyways, I htought I would share... I know its alot, so bear with me...
----------------------------------------------
A little girl sits in the middle of an empty room.
Four years old.
She sits there and waits for a mom who'll never come.
Just like i still catch myself doing occasionally.
A little girl sits in the middle of an empty room.
An empty heart that dully thuds, with empty eyes to match.
Supressed secrets that can never be told.
And slowly as self-revelation sinks in,
Also does a hate so deep inside herself,
A seed of life-long misery set forth.
That can only grow and spread itself to everything she'll be.
Tears.
Just like me.
------------------------------------------------------
A quiet, lonely little girl. The intensely private sort, shes never trusted anyone. Experience has taught her shes correct for doing so. She retreats inside her self, theres safety there. It is safe, comfortable, inside her self, alone. She thinks she's happy, cant see a problem with the way shes living. She thinks, This is perfect. They dont want me, and I dont want them. Everybodys happy.
She grows up like that, slowly poisoned inside her mind. It becomes harder to live, to breathe, to get up every morning and do it again. Darkness surrounds her, until theres no point in existing anymore, for she has no hope left. Shes had hope, she knows what it is, but its gone from her. She used to keep it locked away, safe from herself. She thinks hope is a lovely word- light, clean, pure. Her antithesis.
Some nights the dark is so overwhelming she considers what she could do, how far shed go, to get away from it. She wonders what the point of anything is, any more. She realises that it would be so easy, so quick, to end it all. Then someone calls her name, and she files the musings away. Nights like this repeat in the future, and she quickly learns the extent of her darkness. It is not what we have done, but what we know we could do. She knows well enough to hide it, to pretend shesnormal. Shes relatively successful in it, though she sometimes wonders when she dares to meet someones eyes, if they can tell. Its one of her greatest fears; that someone will know who she is.
Hope. That was the answer.
And a whole lot of pain. To truly change your nature, you must start almost completely over. Everything has to go. Everything you used to think, everything you used to be. She wonders if its worth it sometimes. Wonders if the darkness wasnt better, wonders if she was right, when she was lost inside herself, that itd just be best for everyone if she just gave up. Its so much harder for her now, without the truth she used to have. She tries not to meet gazes, tries not to be drawn into conversation. She knows that she cannot allow anyone to see her for who she truly is. Cannot let them know that shes terrified, terrified that theyll see her through the faade she still utilises.
A quiet, lonely little girl. She never learned to trust. She fell into darkness, was almost consumed by it. She never said a word, never made a sound. No one ever knew. She ripped out what she used to be, all but her true passions. Things that stuck, because they were real. Shes learning, again, from the beginning, how to live. For her, its not in the terms of normal/abnormal that other people know. Shes decided who she wants to be, what she wants to be, in the deepest sense. It doesnt matter, anymore, to her, the normalcy of her self, her actions. She just wants peace.
-------------------------------------------------
How much progress has been made?
And is discretion and insecurity
still in charge of our spirits?
May I impose nothing and in turn not be imposed upon?
Can I steal a piece of virtue?
Make me weak with salvation quick- before i feel nothing.
There cannot be weakness in nothing.
but there cannot be salvation either.
I'm afraid
that i fear too much.
What will i look like when I am beautiful?
May i still be beautiful?
I'd like a clear mind.
To be sure of my sanity.
Recreate a biography
worthy of some understanding or faith.
Oh! How i wish i could be precious to every eye
so that i may deny this universe
and slit these little wrists of mine.
There was calm and the sky opened a deep blue
which reminded her of a childhood melancholy
so deep it tore apart her insides.
She only knows peace like garter belts and chains.
And the one who remembered it right was buried
alive for his weaknesses.
Perhaps the admission of my own weakness will make the world stop trying to prove me wrong. Yes I am weak, and i'm quite confused, im lost without a compass. What reason is that to be offered dose after lethal dose of reality. My own frailty. I thought i couldn't cry without provocation, like being punched in the face, or some other awful deed, but today i masturbated and when i had an orgasm i cried.
I can't even identify what i've become and i already hate it. Thats no place to start.
I've dug a hole of good intentions
my menagerie of compromise,
and i've lost myself beneath the surface
of all your hurt, abuse and lies.
I'd like to start this over, try
it all again, paint myself good memories,
so i won't have to pretend.
You've got tomorrow to look forward to.
all I've got is another today,
I'm trying to fill your expectations,
and dig myself away.
Take apart the pieces, paint them different;
lady-like. White out all the black spots,
the way you would've liked. You don't care if
it hurts me, to tear my skin from bone,
rejecting my mentality, for your happy home.
Is this what you wanted? I dug myself a grave,
and all thats left of what i was
is the resentment and the pain.
A heartfelt meeting in an alley
a predators perfect view
where the doves are bloated and sweating
a wednesday morning glazed with dew.
The reflection in windows between the
beats in the music is where i found you
and where you'll be remembered.
The canvas goes a deeper shade here
between me and this empty space
we're waiting to fill beside me.
Every thing is falling apart.
Fuck you because my heart is
breaking for no reason. Fuck you.
'Cause thats all theres left to say
-----------------------------------------
Memoirs of a past life
Tucked safely away
Behind the dusty drawer
Tufts of old insecurities
Sifting through papers
Proclaiming such an unwanted wish
So many wasted stars
Losing their glow in the back of that drawer
Behind the stained memories
A pretend me
A sad doll with a happy smile
Crying tears of sparkling makeup
Lips pierced with a glossy shine
Her eyes remind me
Pain unneeded and tears not wanted
Remembering their blind eyes
Tearing me away
Molding my face
make me perfect
make me beautiful
make me just like you
A clone of perfect proportions
A broken doll stored in a drawer
She breathed her last plastic breath
Wasted by struggles of deceiving
Her soul left such a lie
Leaving the empty shell she never was
Returned to an odd familiarity
A reality she did not want to accept
Her real self...
Thick vines hang in my face
Corroding your beautiful image
I see your out stretched arm
But my forest of regret grows in your path
Screams can bellow from my throat
But all will stay, sickly, the same
Past sacrifices cannot be given back
My nauseated mind
Wilts at such memories
My knees grow weak as I lurch forward
Attempting to rid such a horrid past
The face of regret simply laughs
Pleased at my precarious situation
Ecstatic at my potential loss
Close my eyes tightly
Imagine it at all away
Floating down a river
A clearing where we shall meet
Around the bend such memories return
Glowing their revolting tales to you
Turn your eyes to me with such a newfound truth
What disappointment have I caused?
Perhaps your eyes tell a tale of a pitiful girl
With love in her veins
And a heart full of regret
------------------------------------------
There is actually ALOT more, but, I don't feel like posting it all right now... I will post more later.... and yes, before anyone asks I do draw from personal experiences in my writing.and the little girl mentioned in the beginning, in the first two little sections, would happen to be me.
hope you enjoyed your little peek into my life. nothing too exciting, I know.
I'm sorry if I have disappointed you.
Love you all.
*love huggs&kisses*
Ms. Ashley Paige
I'll wake up in the morning, but by noon be someone different
and i'd like to shoot these contradictions in the fucking face.
And all i want is to sit and talk with someone who enthralls me.
--- me
----------------------------------
and the rest of this, I just felt like sharing..... I had been posting all of this in my livejournal, which I won't be doing anymore, and a lot of it really actually dates back... but, some people have to take stuff from you and say it is theirs, I guess in order to feel better about themselves, or claim they have some sort of talent, or something... anyways, I htought I would share... I know its alot, so bear with me...
----------------------------------------------
A little girl sits in the middle of an empty room.
Four years old.
She sits there and waits for a mom who'll never come.
Just like i still catch myself doing occasionally.
A little girl sits in the middle of an empty room.
An empty heart that dully thuds, with empty eyes to match.
Supressed secrets that can never be told.
And slowly as self-revelation sinks in,
Also does a hate so deep inside herself,
A seed of life-long misery set forth.
That can only grow and spread itself to everything she'll be.
Tears.
Just like me.
------------------------------------------------------
A quiet, lonely little girl. The intensely private sort, shes never trusted anyone. Experience has taught her shes correct for doing so. She retreats inside her self, theres safety there. It is safe, comfortable, inside her self, alone. She thinks she's happy, cant see a problem with the way shes living. She thinks, This is perfect. They dont want me, and I dont want them. Everybodys happy.
She grows up like that, slowly poisoned inside her mind. It becomes harder to live, to breathe, to get up every morning and do it again. Darkness surrounds her, until theres no point in existing anymore, for she has no hope left. Shes had hope, she knows what it is, but its gone from her. She used to keep it locked away, safe from herself. She thinks hope is a lovely word- light, clean, pure. Her antithesis.
Some nights the dark is so overwhelming she considers what she could do, how far shed go, to get away from it. She wonders what the point of anything is, any more. She realises that it would be so easy, so quick, to end it all. Then someone calls her name, and she files the musings away. Nights like this repeat in the future, and she quickly learns the extent of her darkness. It is not what we have done, but what we know we could do. She knows well enough to hide it, to pretend shesnormal. Shes relatively successful in it, though she sometimes wonders when she dares to meet someones eyes, if they can tell. Its one of her greatest fears; that someone will know who she is.
Hope. That was the answer.
And a whole lot of pain. To truly change your nature, you must start almost completely over. Everything has to go. Everything you used to think, everything you used to be. She wonders if its worth it sometimes. Wonders if the darkness wasnt better, wonders if she was right, when she was lost inside herself, that itd just be best for everyone if she just gave up. Its so much harder for her now, without the truth she used to have. She tries not to meet gazes, tries not to be drawn into conversation. She knows that she cannot allow anyone to see her for who she truly is. Cannot let them know that shes terrified, terrified that theyll see her through the faade she still utilises.
A quiet, lonely little girl. She never learned to trust. She fell into darkness, was almost consumed by it. She never said a word, never made a sound. No one ever knew. She ripped out what she used to be, all but her true passions. Things that stuck, because they were real. Shes learning, again, from the beginning, how to live. For her, its not in the terms of normal/abnormal that other people know. Shes decided who she wants to be, what she wants to be, in the deepest sense. It doesnt matter, anymore, to her, the normalcy of her self, her actions. She just wants peace.
-------------------------------------------------
How much progress has been made?
And is discretion and insecurity
still in charge of our spirits?
May I impose nothing and in turn not be imposed upon?
Can I steal a piece of virtue?
Make me weak with salvation quick- before i feel nothing.
There cannot be weakness in nothing.
but there cannot be salvation either.
I'm afraid
that i fear too much.
What will i look like when I am beautiful?
May i still be beautiful?
I'd like a clear mind.
To be sure of my sanity.
Recreate a biography
worthy of some understanding or faith.
Oh! How i wish i could be precious to every eye
so that i may deny this universe
and slit these little wrists of mine.
There was calm and the sky opened a deep blue
which reminded her of a childhood melancholy
so deep it tore apart her insides.
She only knows peace like garter belts and chains.
And the one who remembered it right was buried
alive for his weaknesses.
Perhaps the admission of my own weakness will make the world stop trying to prove me wrong. Yes I am weak, and i'm quite confused, im lost without a compass. What reason is that to be offered dose after lethal dose of reality. My own frailty. I thought i couldn't cry without provocation, like being punched in the face, or some other awful deed, but today i masturbated and when i had an orgasm i cried.
I can't even identify what i've become and i already hate it. Thats no place to start.
I've dug a hole of good intentions
my menagerie of compromise,
and i've lost myself beneath the surface
of all your hurt, abuse and lies.
I'd like to start this over, try
it all again, paint myself good memories,
so i won't have to pretend.
You've got tomorrow to look forward to.
all I've got is another today,
I'm trying to fill your expectations,
and dig myself away.
Take apart the pieces, paint them different;
lady-like. White out all the black spots,
the way you would've liked. You don't care if
it hurts me, to tear my skin from bone,
rejecting my mentality, for your happy home.
Is this what you wanted? I dug myself a grave,
and all thats left of what i was
is the resentment and the pain.
A heartfelt meeting in an alley
a predators perfect view
where the doves are bloated and sweating
a wednesday morning glazed with dew.
The reflection in windows between the
beats in the music is where i found you
and where you'll be remembered.
The canvas goes a deeper shade here
between me and this empty space
we're waiting to fill beside me.
Every thing is falling apart.
Fuck you because my heart is
breaking for no reason. Fuck you.
'Cause thats all theres left to say
-----------------------------------------
Memoirs of a past life
Tucked safely away
Behind the dusty drawer
Tufts of old insecurities
Sifting through papers
Proclaiming such an unwanted wish
So many wasted stars
Losing their glow in the back of that drawer
Behind the stained memories
A pretend me
A sad doll with a happy smile
Crying tears of sparkling makeup
Lips pierced with a glossy shine
Her eyes remind me
Pain unneeded and tears not wanted
Remembering their blind eyes
Tearing me away
Molding my face
make me perfect
make me beautiful
make me just like you
A clone of perfect proportions
A broken doll stored in a drawer
She breathed her last plastic breath
Wasted by struggles of deceiving
Her soul left such a lie
Leaving the empty shell she never was
Returned to an odd familiarity
A reality she did not want to accept
Her real self...
Thick vines hang in my face
Corroding your beautiful image
I see your out stretched arm
But my forest of regret grows in your path
Screams can bellow from my throat
But all will stay, sickly, the same
Past sacrifices cannot be given back
My nauseated mind
Wilts at such memories
My knees grow weak as I lurch forward
Attempting to rid such a horrid past
The face of regret simply laughs
Pleased at my precarious situation
Ecstatic at my potential loss
Close my eyes tightly
Imagine it at all away
Floating down a river
A clearing where we shall meet
Around the bend such memories return
Glowing their revolting tales to you
Turn your eyes to me with such a newfound truth
What disappointment have I caused?
Perhaps your eyes tell a tale of a pitiful girl
With love in her veins
And a heart full of regret
------------------------------------------
There is actually ALOT more, but, I don't feel like posting it all right now... I will post more later.... and yes, before anyone asks I do draw from personal experiences in my writing.and the little girl mentioned in the beginning, in the first two little sections, would happen to be me.
hope you enjoyed your little peek into my life. nothing too exciting, I know.
I'm sorry if I have disappointed you.
Love you all.
*love huggs&kisses*
Ms. Ashley Paige
VIEW 25 of 34 COMMENTS
Also, happy birthday! If you're 82, you're a very young 82.