dreamer88

Am I real, am i solid? Does anyone really know who I am? If I disappeared how long until all of you would know that I am gone. Would you miss me, or rejoice at the loss of one more inconvienience, one more challenge, one more disturbance? Where do I stand in all of your minds, centerstage, in the wings, in the audience, nowhere at all? I feel as though I will disappear from all of your minds on June 6th, you know me now, because you all see me daily, but when we are miles apart, will you remember my face, my laugh, my smile? Will you look back in your yearbooks a year from now and think who was she, did I know her, or will you just flip acros

You're gone. I can't remember you. I am a traitor to the institution. Am I not? I am alone, without you to guide me. There are so many who help me along the way, but they cannot grip my hand, as you would or lead me in the right direction. They can show me the path, but you were supposed to lead me down it. You left. Was it your choice? Did I do something wrong? Did I make you angry? Childhood questions, with answers I know. Yet, they still linger in the depths of the dark cavern of my heart. I never said, "goodbye." Never asked you the questions of life. I was a naïve, little girl taking time for granted. A little girl, who thought you, woul

I am not afraid of death, I am not afraid of how I will die, or of how much it will hurt. I am afraid that I will die alone. That no one will grieve for this poor little girl who died so suddenly. That no one will stand by my grave and weep while I pass into obscurity. My fear is that mine shall be the grave that stands empty on Easter Sunday in a sea of other graves decorated by loved ones with the greatest care. I am afraid that twenty years after my death, mine shall be the grave, which is overgrown with weeds, and grass that no one has bothered to touch since the final pile of dirt was shoveled on. I am afraid my story, my knowledge, my l

I am invisible to the eye. Pain lies deep inside upon my heart. With every breath, I feel as though a shard of glass, scores my heart. A constant reminder of my inferiority, my ugliness, my worthlessness. I lock myself away alone in a room, so that I will not impose my plague on the world. Sometimes I am selfish, I push myself on the people around me so I will have some semblance of the feeling of approval, unneeded I know, but still my fragile conscience calls for it. I then back away, knowing I am an annoyance. I am a thing, which no one wants around them. Unwanted, Uninvited, and Vain. For, I ask you when I am not around, does my name cros