Stay || Martinus G ||

Stay || Martinus G ||

  • WpView
    Reads 8,448
  • WpVote
    Votes 274
  • WpPart
    Parts 25
WpMetadataReadComplete Sun, Aug 25, 20192h 16m
WpInfo
Fanfic
Everyone in this planet is special, different from others. Some people pretend to be sad to catch the attention. From the other side there are people that dont want others to know their pain. They always want to be strong. They feel that their life is a "weight" to the world. They lay in their bed and thinking why they still live. Whats the point of life if you are afraid of death every fucking day? Why fight for something, from the moment that you know that tomorrow you may cannot breath? And then you have to go out in the road and pretend that you are like the others. That you dreaming of a life full of money. A life that you can buy whatever you want. You will have a big house, an expensive car and you will go trips every weekend. It sounds amazing...but is this really what you want from your life? If your answer is yes then you totally can't understand how I feel.
All Rights Reserved
#54
martinusgunnarsen
WpChevronRight
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • Lovely || Demi Lovato
  • i want you // marcus gunnarsen
  • Step Siblings {M.G.} - completed
  • DON'T EVEN TRY|M&M| (Completed♡)
  • I'll always be there for you [Marcus and Martinus]
  • family friend (reader x martinus)
  • 𝙃𝙀'𝙎 𝘽𝘼𝘿 𝙁𝙊𝙍  𝙔𝙊𝙐, Marcus Gunnarsen
  • Maybe, There is a Happy Ending
  • Him. // Martinus Gunnarsen

He always assumes I want money. That money can replace my desire for a mother, for a female figure who will guide me through the darkness. All he can provide is money. He assumes that because I use the money, that I'm happy, that I don't spend night hunched over my toilet bowl physically sick to my stomach with the guilt of killing my mother. He assumes that because I have friends, that the smile on my face is genuine. That because I smile and confidently stride out of my room in a bikini, that I love myself and the way I look. He assumes everything about me, because he doesn't know me. I'm his daughter, and with the simple fact, he assumes that by just looking at me he knows my every thought. Does he know of the blood I spill when I have no other method of coping? Does he know of the times I sit and ponder about what it would be like to go through death? Does he know that when he leaves for work, I cry myself to sleep and wish for a mother? Does he know that I could care less about him? I hate him. But he loves me. Does he know, that through all this mess, I just want a mother. Because according to Disney, mother knows best?

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines