flymetoneverland: fastbreakplays: yunjae: (via breebreeex3) TRUE THIS. Stress.

flymetoneverland:

fastbreakplays:

yunjae:

(via breebreeex3)

TRUE THIS. Stress.

thank you. thank you for another day. thank you for another day of loneliness. thank you for another day of grief. thank you for another day of solitude. thank you for another day of sadness.

so yes, thank you. thank you for another day of misery.

thanks a lot.

Die.

People who are so inconsiderate should die. They’re selfish and so they’re inconsiderate. They should just save themselves the trouble and quit whatever they are doing. Seriously. They’re delaying everything. They’re making everything harder for everyone. Contrary to what they believe, nobody wants them there. So just man up and quit. Or better yet DIE.

run faster. don’t stop.

You chase it.

It flew farther –

away from you.

away from the held out hands.

away from the shouted names.

Chase it.

Run faster.

Run after it.

It wouldn’t be back if you let it go.

You can’t lose it now.

Not when you can still chase it.

Not when you can still run.

Not when you know you need it.

Not when you know you can’t bear to see it leave.

Don’t stop.

No! You can’t stop now.

It’s inches from you.

What are you doing?

Don’t just stand there.

Don’t just look at it.

Don’t let it go!

…

Don’t let ME go.

shut up and swallow your pride

“just swallow it” my mind said. but i can’t seem to do that. it’s not that easy. i did my part. i tried to fix it. but he doesn’t care. so screw it. i’m not gonna chase him forever. if he doesn’t want my apology then fine. it’s both our loss. but at least i know i lost something cause i tried.

“tried.. but not hard enough” my mind interrupted my thoughts again. and i argue. i argue with my own mind. i tried. he didn’t. that’s enough. i’m not gonna make myself look so desperate begging for his forgiveness. i did my part and i’m fine with it. he should meet me halfway.

my mind, once again, was not satisfied. “someone’s gotta take an extra step, sometimes” my mind said. and i don’t really care. why can’t he take that extra step? why can’t he meet me here? all i ask is for him to meet me halfway. compromise. but if he doesn’t want then whatever. i don’t care. seriously. i don’t care.

“STUPID STUPID GIRL! we both know you care. we both know you’re bothered. we both know you don’t wanna lose him. so shut up. and swallow your fucking pride, you moron! if you don’t you’ll end up losing him. so just deal with it and take that extra fucking step.” my mind finally lost it.

and so did i.

The Girl Who Thought Cabs Fly

She tilted her head up then laughed. It certainly didn’t sound like air playing gently with chimes. It sounded like a laugh you want to laugh with. Or laugh at. She was walking alone one sunny morning- a first for almost two straight weeks of rain. The sun beating down on her skin and her laugh filling the summer air with bubbles of joy. She twirled around once and laughed once again. She dropped on her knees laughing. Her head dropped downwards, her shoulder shaking. But one should not mistake this for laughter because tears streamed down her face as she lifted her head to face the sky.

She was wearing a vintage lace top over a pair of shorts. She seemed sane enough. Well, apart from the crying-on-her-knees-in-public part. Cars were passing her by. One actually stopped, the driver got out, tapped her on the shoulder, and asked of everything was alright. She waved him off with a smile. She wiped tears from her eyes and stood up.

All that time, there I was, standing across the street from her. I was waiting for a cab. She looked at me. I was surprised and I know I was supposed to look away but I can’t. She stared at me as if she was memorizing every little detail of my face. It was really awkward for me and I didn’t know what to do. I looked down on my shoes and thankfully, as if on cue, a cab appeared in front of me. I boarded the cab and watched the beautiful lonely girl try to capture me in her cluttered mind.

Are you afraid? Cause I hella am.

Everyone is afraid of something. Whoever says they’re not afraid is actually afraid of being called weak. I, honestly, am afraid of a lot of things.

I am afraid of flying cockroaches.

I am afraid of ghosts.

I am afraid of being alone.

I am afraid of dying alone.

I am afraid of commitment.

I am afraid of losing you.

I am afraid of falling for you.

And now, I am afraid that I might actually have.

(or maybe I just miss you?) WHO KNOWS?

I am too afraid to admit it.

(via papertissue) EVEN THE TREES BOW DOWN TO YOU. YOU ARE A GOD.

(via papertissue)

EVEN THE TREES BOW DOWN TO YOU.

YOU ARE A GOD.

it’s relative, you see?

i got issues, you see?

i am vague

odd

and proud.

i am vulnerable but vindicated.

i am sad and needy.

i am complicated…i got issues…you see?

so don’t say you can stay because i doubt you can handle…me.

it’s ok…it’s ok to turn away.

that’s better.

you’re safer that way.

if only i had the heart i could have faked it for you…

i could have smiled wider…

talked longer…

i could have laughed louder…

but i can’t

to pretend or to be truthful—

either way i’ll let you down.

i may put a happy face now but i doubt i can still smile for you the following day.

i can’t, you see?

it’s better to turn away now.

it’s safer.

leave. i won’t mind. just do it now. now is better. now is safe.

P.S.

but by any chance,maybe you can handle…maybe..just maybe, you can try and..maybe..,stay. i won’t mind. really, i won’t mind.

yeah…i am complicated, you see?

used up

I’m tired of being used. Slash, I hate “user –friendly” people. How thick can they get? They would use you up until you can no longer help them, then they throw you aside. They don’t exist when you need them yet, you are always there when they need you. Too thick – skinned. Too thick – skinned to be understood.

They happen to be anywhere. They are the ones who contact you when they need someone to listen to them. You listen while they rant, while they laugh, while they cry. They are the ones who remember your name when you have the things they need, when you have something they can make use of. You lend them because you feel important, but in reality, you are not. You’re just accessible for them. Sadly, sometimes they are even the ones you consider friends. You treat them right, listen to their worries, comfort them, defend them, help them. You get nothing in return. It’s like you’re just the floor on which they stood. You carry them, but they just step on you. But you continue to be there – stepped on, messed up, and pushed down.

At some point, you might be one of them; I might be one of them. We just refuse to admit that we are like them.

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