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Writing helps me relieve stress.
Go ahead and judge my writing skills, not what I write about.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Going to watch Easy A.

A chain of raging emotions cling to my collapsing chest, creating a dark shadow suffocating it. The explosive chains rub against the ends, instigating an awaiting fire, trying to find any way to erupt. It traps me and I feel as though I’m being swallowed with no way to escape. The heat increases and my shallow chest is flooded with uncontainable, engulfing flames.

Unknown to me, any other option of releasing such vile daggers piercing through my shaken chest besides quick, witty, uncalled sarcastic comments that add unnecessary spice into mushy, lovey-dovey conversations that help sharpen the daggers that imprint me. Unwanted guilt rushes through me as I hear the cold, harsh words I have just spoken, repeated as I playback the rude interrupted scene in my throbbing head.

Sick of all the perfection in the air, I just want out. If only I knew another way to let out my pain that burns through my chest always ready to jump out. Causing other people pain and disbelief through my own is what I avoid the most. Trust me, I'm still looking for another method. The splendid dreams I have only become horror in reality, taking the most out of me. I’m sorry, to all those I’ve hurt. Get the hell out of me, to those trails of discomfort.

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