Self Deception
  • Reads 2,505
  • Votes 611
  • Parts 119
  • Time 4h 8m
  • Reads 2,505
  • Votes 611
  • Parts 119
  • Time 4h 8m
Ongoing, First published Jan 21, 2017
Mature
Poetry 2017 
And if I burn out in a fit of psychosis, remember me as a young god, with that smile made of daggers, even if I was the most dangerous thing you could've touched. Perhaps all that danger comes from the multiple personalities, but all I know is I've got something fucking with me, and it possesses me until my pupils don't even exist and the immaterial spills from my nose like concrete. It's time to disconnect, I've made such a mess of myself. When reality unhinges itself and all you can do is watch your sanity slip through your fingers, you start to understand what value truly is, because it's looking a lot like the black tar on the walls. I've lost myself to a pill bottle of prescribed obsession, but everything's feeling so timed. What is it you see when you look through these screens into my soul?
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Everyones Obsessed* by Cie1_5
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The past carries an unjust history. Immoral actions mark the present. The future holds untold consequences. Bad things happen to good people, and good people do bad things. | | || ||| ||||| |||||||| ||||||||||||| You, of all people, should understand the obsession. Whether it's the endless hours lost to a screen, the compulsion to scroll through forums, the need for that next high, the haunting grip of past trauma, the fixation on someone unattainable, the pursuit of a fleeting feeling, or even the inexplicable attachment to something as simple as frogs-obsession has woven itself into every corner of your life. •__ •_ •• •_• •_• • •••• / ••_ • •_• I have done terrible things because I let obsession take over me. It wasn't always that way. It started as a lie; it became true one day. I told myself I was in control and could stop anytime, but I only lied to myself. I was powerless. I never wanted to hurt anyone; I hurt him and myself. Now, I'm left with the wreckage of my choices. I wonder if there's any way to get things back to how they were before. Xgbs bqf zpv patfttfc xisg? To us, they are just another random person: the letters carved on the table, the artist of old graffiti, the person who also walked into the restroom, the reason the trash is full, or the garbage thrower on the side of the streets. But to them, they're the main fucking character in their own story, and each mark, item, digital trace, and photo they have makes a fragment of their existence. We may never know their face or name, but the traces they left remind us that everyone's lives intersect, creating a vast web of connections; unnoticed or not, they are never truly invisible. Dy32Al43Dy44|Dy11Al99Dy33|Dy44Dy87Dy22|Dy01Dy87|Dy87Al11Dy01Dy33Dy01Dy01Dy33Al21|Dy32Dy55Al01Al43|Dy21Al99Dy11Dy21Dy65Dy55Al77Dy43|Dy21Dy87Al21Dy33Dy01/
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Pinwheels and Dandelions

177 parts Complete

I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.