She can feel the heat beginning to radiate from her cheeks as her legs pick up speed in tune with the machine beneath her. The gym is quiet on a Friday night, contrary to her mind that is racing a hundred miles an hour... a kind estimate to the tsunami of thoughts that have been terrorizing her for nights on end, praying this one might perhaps hold a sound and restful slumber. But alas, the hours of the night ware on, and here she lies wide awake haunted by those very thoughts, where she tries to take comfort in the one thing she knows to turn to, and so she sits, and writes for it is all she has.
She is so tired. Exhausted. Worn.
I am so done.
I think of colors- it is dark hues of purples, and deep auburn, with blue hues that have seen trial, and know deep secrets and pains beyond their prime. I am sick of secrets. Lies. Deceit. Of being slandered behind closed doors, and being bashed or told I am not good enough and that I never will be. But they do not think I will here these things. Or they know that I will- and they hope that it will gradually eat at me. And I know I am supposed to ideally be the bigger, stronger, incredible resilient person who continually overcomes, turns a blind eye, and triumphs... but I am growing tired. I do not know how to keep walking. It is not even that I am going to fight. It is just I do not know how to keep holding up my shield against the attacks, when the people who I thought I could trust have not only betrayed that trust, but used all of it against me.
I see a girl in the mirror who has become a shadow of a girl whose meaning I am now left questioning. I wonder why she walks, or why she exists. I know she was placed for something, but for what I do not know. I do not think she is currently living for what she should be.. at least the others around her do not think so with the way they speak. They see a girl who is worthless, illegitimate, lacking in regard, tact, poise, and talent, and I wonder how this girl has even manged to get to where she is..
I think words need to be chosen wisely. I think we need to be careful in how we say things, and who we open our doors to. I have learned to be careful in how I walk, and that perhaps sometimes, it is better to stay inside, and say nothing at all.
She is so tired. Exhausted. Worn.
I am so done.
I think of colors- it is dark hues of purples, and deep auburn, with blue hues that have seen trial, and know deep secrets and pains beyond their prime. I am sick of secrets. Lies. Deceit. Of being slandered behind closed doors, and being bashed or told I am not good enough and that I never will be. But they do not think I will here these things. Or they know that I will- and they hope that it will gradually eat at me. And I know I am supposed to ideally be the bigger, stronger, incredible resilient person who continually overcomes, turns a blind eye, and triumphs... but I am growing tired. I do not know how to keep walking. It is not even that I am going to fight. It is just I do not know how to keep holding up my shield against the attacks, when the people who I thought I could trust have not only betrayed that trust, but used all of it against me.
I see a girl in the mirror who has become a shadow of a girl whose meaning I am now left questioning. I wonder why she walks, or why she exists. I know she was placed for something, but for what I do not know. I do not think she is currently living for what she should be.. at least the others around her do not think so with the way they speak. They see a girl who is worthless, illegitimate, lacking in regard, tact, poise, and talent, and I wonder how this girl has even manged to get to where she is..
I think words need to be chosen wisely. I think we need to be careful in how we say things, and who we open our doors to. I have learned to be careful in how I walk, and that perhaps sometimes, it is better to stay inside, and say nothing at all.
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