Confessions of a 5'1"

I'm a prisoner of war for nothing.

There's whole generations fighting out there. For success? For love? For life?
People have always said I'd never make it. I'm not meant for greatness, I'm not destined to become one of them. Guess you ought to get your armor before we clash.

Strange how when we're finally facing each other on that battlefield, neither of us can remember what we're fighting for.
I think I'll put down my sword and drop my shield.

In reality, we're just a couple of kids trying to stay alive.
In dreams, we are alive.

There's this girl. I'd like to say who she is, but that would make this difficult for me to write. So there's this girl.

She's pretty typical, enjoys shopping, eating sweets and worries about needless things. She delights in cute and cuddly creatures, soft pillows and colors. On weekends she likes to snuggle under the blankets until noon when the day is most alive. She cares for her hair like a second pet next to her cat that keeps her company when she sleeps and painting her nails different colors makes her jubilant. Happy is her goal.

But she has this problem. She tends to set herself up for disappointment. Her daydreams drift too far and she loses her stability. She makes herself believe in things that won't come true but convinces herself until the very last day and very last moment that it would happen. And when it doesn't, she's crushed. She'll sulk, and she'll mope. She'll cry, and when she cries-she cries. Then, as if it had never happened she'll do it all over again with a smile.

Repeat.

That is the awful life of a girl, naive and dumb.
A girl I suppose I could now call me.

Its kinda funny how we take certain things to heart.

Have you ever been a nobody before? Just another pair of lungs taking up air? It leaves a pit in my stomach, so empty and so cold. Nobody gives a damn about her, especially the one who should have the most.

Have you ever found a light in that pit? One so warm and compassionate that chased away all that darkness? She held onto that light-her new family,never again did she want to go back for she was finally someone.

Someone people cared about, someone people saw. Someone that wouldn't be passed or ignored. All it really takes... is just one person.

Have you ever felt that light dying, feel the tenderness dwindle away? See the glow get eaten alive by the shadows from before? It's sad to never be acknowledged, but to have a taste of that hand pulling you away from the wall, the light finally falling in your eyes and to be pushed back to the same place as before is a tragedy.

And when that heart is torn up from the same feelings they tried to get away from from the start;
I just want to ask, is it still funny?

Sick. So so sick. You are.
Disgusting and sad, yet so hurtful.
I have finally met you, the fucked up people Luis tells me about. Those who take self pleasure in bringing anyone down. The ones that laugh at someone else's discomfort and pain, reveling when you can amplify the torment. You are built from mockery and control. Your eyes seek only weakness and your ears deaf but to the lament of your victims.

That's what you are, sick and twisted, so sick and twisted...
I wish I could take every last tear you left me with and gouge what "heart" you have in your rotting flesh of a body. I hope you choke on your malice and it shreds your throat open from the inside out.
You repulse me the most.

I think I'm afraid of going to sleep. Because thats when secrets aren't secrets anymore, when the only thing that protects you is darkness and even that is something we can't trust to keep our raw self from the things that want to hurt it.

Its actually probably not even that, but the insecurities that keep swarming my mind while I lay there and jump from thought to thought without clear reasoning. I can't focus anymore, or maybe there's just nothing for me to focus on.

I believe its just the realization, as I'm propped up against a pillow on my bed in the lightless environment. The low hum of the computer, the silence from my phone and the emptiness. No matter what, when you fall asleep you are utterly alone-in mind and sense-until you wake up again.

I used to love playing that card game. That is, before I was aware of how alone I was playing it.

"I used to be the kid that nobody cared about, you just have to keep shouting until they hear you out."

Maybe we'll start feeling the air fall, maybe I'll finally get to hold the warmth of your heart in my hands, and maybe the moon will be too bright but it won't change my mind.

What an exquisite voice!
I suppose if he suggested for me to eat the fruit, I would have without a thought. You should know that I rob, I don't steal. We're all sinners here, promise.

Disappointment. Dis-appoint-ment. This, a point meant, was what she received.

She tries to let it pass her by, maybe if she doesn't acknowledge it it would simply leave her alone. But the problem is, it took a liking to her and it stops to play with her hair, to blow a breath of sadness in her face. It finds her inability to retaliate something humorous and pleasing, an excuse to linger.

It sleeps all night and all morning too. At those times, she's oblivious and believes herself free. She goes out with friends and spends her time radiantly, she sure knows how to smile. But at evening it lurks, and spotting its prey looms overhead. That is when she learns of the rejection, the let downs the "can't"s. She sees the chances too far from her grasp, she hears the "no" and feels the wind from the closing doors.

She wants to reach higher, to stand on her tippy toes, to refuse to take it as an answer-to knock again. But as she raises a hand, it falls back down. Her energy is consumed from day to day and inside, she is defeated.

She can still smile, you really ought to see it, and her laugh is something to listen to. Even if they're forced and muddled with tears, they'll keep coming because that's all she can do. Things disappointment can't steal off her lips or from her voice. Her only act of rebellion as she obediently drops her aspirations and wishes.

The only thing she manages to acquire is a pat on the head for turning away from everything she ever held her breath for.