Writing-is-Escapism

If you stare into a mirror You will not see yourself But every person that has invaded you Loved you, hurt you And how you shaped your form from this And out of the reflection You see your other reach out And wrap its hands around your throat In the hopes that it can switch with you And be who it wanted to be Instead of who it was forced to

When you figure out I am no good I am not better Then the next one in line I am just me I am imperfect Yet I can still try I still feel I still cry I still love Yet I am still dead inside I have tried to figure out How to be myself again I want someone Yet I know I can not win I have tried I have died I have given All I can Can some one hear me Can some one see me Can some one talk to me I tried love and failed I tried friendships They have worked but never more can I gain Who Am I When I try to figure out what I have done With this life I feel so cold Who am I But just a friend No one looks No one says They all leave me Or I leave them W

"We marched through the forest of death to vanquish a monster. The party I was apart of consisted of me and three others, a young woman draped in robes of the church of the sun goddess, her small frame is nothing to underestimate as she can hold her own with her staff she carries with her, and her name was Celina Lunar.             That man next to her clad in plate mail was a crusader for the church caring a large shield and long sword was a bit of a prick at times but was good in a fight and someone I would trust with my life. His name was Dorian Fulka, In all he was a good man.                 Now that guy there was a hoot, he's a dwarf yo

it's the blank static hum of a city that's trying too hard. it's sleeping less and studying more. it's getting As and still not feeling good enough. it's getting a C and feeling worthless. it's reading Faulkner and Morrison and all the great American novels not because you want to but because it's required for class. it’s volunteering at the shelter because it’ll look good on your resume. it's working weekends because you need the money. it's staying after school because you need the recommendation letter. it's debating intersectional feminism and global warming with your Tinder date. it's doing it for the Instagram. it's pictures

/kəmˈpɝʒən/ noun. i.    these are the faithless nights i've learned to fear,    when the California sun goes down in a pink polluted    blaze and everything gets so quiet and still except    for sirens in the distance and the full yellow moon    and the flickering lights of the gas station start    to whisper in my ear about you, somewhere out there                                     (with her, beside her, kissing her,                                     her soft hair fisted in cold hands                                     that i once held so tight in mine),    but of course i never believed that  

my favorite color is yellow. my favorite tea is jasmine. my favorite constellation is Orion because i could spot it even as a child. my favorite scent is Molton Brown's orange and bergamot, and wearing it reminds me of the girl i used to be. you always see me with headphones around my neck because i like to drown my thoughts out with pop music. i look my best in red lipstick and lace and leather boots. i try to be beautiful and strong, but sometimes i am not. i am every bit my mother's daughter even though i hate to admit that we're anything alike. i remember chasing deer in the snowy Minnesota woods. i remember calling doves down fro

    i.    i confess that i've been trying not to think about you.    this morning i woke up to the sound of cold grey rain    on my windowpane. i didn't sleep all that well but    i got up early anyway to go to a yoga class filled with    people i'll probably never see again. they talked    about clearing your mind and finding your breath but    lying on the mat i could only think about you and how    i was probably breathing too much and honestly    how dare you    make me feel    this way.    i once had a little pride, you know.        ii.        this morning i got in my car and        drove        into the ne