The Girl With The Stone Face
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- Votes 51
- Parts 37
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so, I've been struggling for a long time now, and I never told anyone about it. I've never opened up. but I met someone who understands how I feel, and I'm beginning to feel again. I don't know how to do it, but I finally feel I can fight. I've been so exhausted. I'm not better, I'm not sure if i ever will be, but I'm not numb, not entirely. I can't say how I'm feeling, or what i am going to write, but if you want it, it's here. This is for you. For everyone who was made to be the villain by those meant to be by their sides. For everyone with a sensitive heart made to grow strong much too quickly. For everyone who struggles to get out of bed in the morning. For everyone who never could find the words to say why. For everyone who struggles to feel and for everyone who feels too much. For everyone who had to pick themselves back up. For everyone who had to parent themselves. For everyone fighting an invisible battle. For everyone who has been underestimated. For everyone who has to flee to other worlds to cope. For everyone who found other means to silence their voices. For everyone who was silenced. For everyone who was over powered. For everyone who was made to be less. For everyone who had to watch someone else suffer and stay silent. For everyone asking themselves, why? Why would you do this? What did I do? Why is this happening to me? It was never your fault.Complete
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The Day My Life Started
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Hello. I’m Cassidy. I’m 16 years old, and I am helpless. I’m weak, defenseless and not to mention unassuming. I am utterly boring and uninteresting. I wouldn’t be surprised if God himself overlooked me. Maybe that’s why my life sucks so much. My face is dull and pale, and my hair is mousy brown. My eyes are black and my fingers are long and stringy. Once in junior high, a teacher likened me to ghost. I had wanted to tell her, “Yes. I remind myself of a ghost sometimes too.” But I didn’t say anything in return. I have one friend and even she doesn’t like me for me; only for the shiny new car my step dad bought me. Boys don’t notice me. And when they do it’s only to pick out my flaws and display them to everyone around. All in all, I am a sad and pathetic specimen of a human being. Why am I writing this? Because on June 3rd, 2011, at 12:31 am, I died.Complete
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I regret it a lot, no one noticed it, I only saw myself, continued on my life while he didn't even have one. When we came to live in this new neighborhood, I brought his diary with me, opening it, I found it empty, just like his life...Complete
so, I've been struggling for a long time now, and I never told anyone about it. I've never opened up. but I met someone who understands how I feel, and I'm beginning to feel again. I don't know how to do it, but I finally feel I can fight. I've been so exhausted. I'm not better, I'm not sure if i ever will be, but I'm not numb, not entirely. I can't say how I'm feeling, or what i am going to write, but if you want it, it's here. This is for you. For everyone who was made to be the villain by those meant to be by their sides. For everyone with a sensitive heart made to grow strong much too quickly. For everyone who struggles to get out of bed in the morning. For everyone who never could find the words to say why. For everyone who struggles to feel and for everyone who feels too much. For everyone who had to pick themselves back up. For everyone who had to parent themselves. For everyone fighting an invisible battle. For everyone who has been underestimated. For everyone who has to flee to other worlds to cope. For everyone who found other means to silence their voices. For everyone who was silenced. For everyone who was over powered. For everyone who was made to be less. For everyone who had to watch someone else suffer and stay silent. For everyone asking themselves, why? Why would you do this? What did I do? Why is this happening to me? It was never your fault.
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