My post about mirrors

What if whenever we cry our reflections reach out of the mirror to comfort us when we’re not looking? When no one’s looking. We would lock ourselves in the bathroom and and cry our back facing the mirror and our reflections reach out, placing a comforting hand on our shoulder. They would sit next to us when we rest our head on our crossed arms on our knees, legs tucked close to our chests. They’re made of glass though aren’t they? Glass arms, glass legs , glass heart. The slightest push of sad frustration on they’d come crashing down. Sharp pieces of broken  glass that we could easily cut ourselves on surrounding us. We wouldn’t be able to get up and pick up the pieces of glass without cutting ourselves. We would just have to sit there and wait for someone to come pick up the pieces scattered around us. We could get a new mirror, but it wouldn’t be the same. We could glue the pieces back together but there would always be cracks and little smudges of dried glue or small patches where the shards weren’t found. No more comfort, no one to trust of confide in

This is a week and a half late, but here goes….

(I also had an amazing drawing to put here, but I am still working out how to do that.)

A rose, a beautiful flower with deadly thorns. It’s is a perfect representation of life. Jaw dropping beauty that can disappear in a split second, leaving only sharp thorns and red. Thick red blood dripping off its leaves and forming a puddle of misery at its stem scarring you for the rest of your life.

I thought of this when Kuhu and I were discussing Halloween and Kuhu kept “asking” for a post. Also fun fact Kuhu puts all my post on the website apart from this one and piano. She just wrote it in my POV.

Some people have wonderful imaginations. But grand imaginations can be a curse as well. For some thinking of a fantasy land can lead you to discovering your deepest darkest fears. Some are afraid of simple things like spiders or ghosts, but some, some are afraid of things much bigger. They fear getting too close, then being thrown away to rot. They’re afraid of being hurt, broken and it gets worse at night. The darkness is where a person’s imagination runs wild, transforming our fears, twisting them in a way that can petrify the most collected of people. Those who are afraid of being thrown away like a useless old doll Are dragged away by porcelain hands. People afraid of being ignored see distorted beings staring at them, following them wherever they go, watching the while they sleep. When we finally manage to fall asleep, those of us where afraid of heights dream of drowning. We wake up shaking in the middle of the night and we have 5 seconds of peace before we start to pay more attention to our surroundings.  We can’t escape our fears. They surround us and take away our sanity. We are left waiting and waiting until morning comes and sometimes, it never does.

I am a day late, but this is my post…

Burn away the fear and sadness. Burn away the anger and pain. But let it burn too long and it burns away your hopes and dreams. And as the flame reaches its end your happiness, your smile burns away with it. The flame travels down the match getting closer and closer to your hand, to your heart. It burns you and you drop the match, extinguishing the flame but the damage is done. There is nothing left. Your fear, your sorrow, your anger and your happiness, everything that makes you you is gone. A person that has dealt with so much pain, so much sorrow is nothing but an empty shell, a burnt out match.

I was thinking about this when I randomly painted my hand silver and it started to peel off.

What if every one had one hand that was painted silver and one that was painted gold? Gold would represent beauty on the outside and silver, the inside. Separate everyone into 8 even groups. 3 of those groups have terrible lives, are over weight or have some other physical flaw. That causes the gold paint on their hand to wash away there for their outer beauty is gone. But no worries, even though they are constantly criticized for their looks, the silver paint on their other hand remains possibly shining brighter than before. You then have another 3 groups out of the eight that have wonderful lives and are beautiful. And they are somewhat kind but not anywhere near as kind-hearted of those who have no gold paint on their hands. And those whose outer beauty shines bright are those who criticize the kind-hearted people. And as they continue to do so the silver paint is washed away and they become as cold-hearted as a rock. But don’t forget the other 2 groups of people. Those people are beautiful inside and out. They stand up for those who are criticized but are never really thanked or noticed for that matter. But they stand up anyways, they don’t need to be thanked. Who would you rather be? Beautiful on the inside and on the outside, only on the inside, or only on the outside? Thank you to those who did not answer. Because not one person can be that perfect, physically are personality wise. You have one painted silver hand and one gold when you are born. If you do then there is something wrong with you. Nobody is perfect and nobody will ever be. And you should be thankful for that.

This post was written while I was reading some depressing stuff on wattpad. It got me thinking about those dark feelings that everyone has, and that was the inspiration for this paragraph.

We cut ourselves to prove we feel pain. We starve ourselves to prove we are not overweight. We lock ourselves in our rooms not to prove anything but to see whether anyone really cares about us. To others we are misfits. To ourselves we are nothing. We stand alone in a world of hate. Facing the judging stares and whispers of those around us. We cover our scars with sweaters or long-sleeved shirts. We put on a smile to hide how we truly feel. They do not see the tears running down our cheeks. They do not see the hatred in our eyes. They are oblivious to how we truly feel. They try to help but only make it worse. The only people that understand us are our inner demons.

Continue reading Inner Demons-Emma →

This is just a post about how emotions don’t necessarily lead to the expected reaction.

Whats amazing and whats absolutely hideous? Everyone thinks they know what’s true or false, but if what I’m saying is true, or maybe its not that’s exactly my point. We don’t know anything about anything. We say that we are smart and we say that we are brave. That if we stand up for ourselves we’ll be heroes. But how do we know that that isn’t all a lie? How do we know heroes are not just cowards that do what they do to save their own skin? Life is one big paradox.  Hatred to sorrow to happiness and so on. We are living a lie. A great big lie with no truth. Love is the opposite of hate yet love can lead someone to hate you. Sadness is the opposite of happiness yet sad moments are remembered forever, and happy moments are forgotten in an instant. Anger is the opposite of calm yet someones calm demeanor can anger someone beyond control. If this is the truth then how can people tell us whats wrong and what’s right?

This is my first post. It was inspired by a book I read last night.

He plays the music of his soul. Dark and lonely music that captures your heart. When you hear it you say ” How wonderful ”. You say it with joy, never thinking of how much misery the song holds. But why would a man with such talent be so sad? You do not know. Wouldn’t The fact that everyone loves his music Bring him joy? When you ask him, he says ” It is better to feel sadness than nothing at all ”. Then he leaves you to ponder the words he has just said. You then realize what he says is true. It is better be filled with misery than to be absolutely heartless. You no longer question his emotions because you understand why he feels them. The day he told you the reason for his misery, he shared with you his sadness. You understand  now why some people are happy while others are sad. For the rest of your life, you no longer question it. But you never forgot the beautiful song he played and the weight it held.