{Digital Silence} A grouchy teen Who sees the world Through a cracked lense Sees only the problems But never the mends Dosnet get the answers To the questions in her mind Sits alone and wonders all the time Dants about life, Politics, and fantasy Dreaming of one day being a queen But in reality she looks out a window At the cracked world ahead She sees nothing but existential dread Why dont people understand She would ask They hurt the people They force things They break us But she didnt see the fixes The mends nor the glue She older saw the problems More than one or two She saw the world theough a broken lense That no glue was ever strong enough to fix

(This is a mash of two of my favorite songs Apple Dot Com by PinocchioP and Baker by Aimee Carty.) The world believes that everything is simple, straightforward, easy. Of course, I do not. I follow the rules only because I have to and I know that that is the best choice I can make. There are no superheroes in this world—if there were they’d be corrupted as the rest of us. Creativity left me a long time ago, maybe when I turned 7. It had to be around that age, that horrible age when the agenda and bricks of society built a wall around me, blocking everything that was once mine. An apple is red, just as a human is flawed. It doesn’t matter what you act like—you’re still a human. People follow the next step that the government sets out for us. I do as well. You have to walk to walk or risk being shunned. I don’t want to be shunned. The world keeps spinning and spinning and I still can’t seem to catch up. Misinformation, lies, ignorance. Woe is me—self pity won’t get you anywhere. So I’ll do what you want me to. I’ve lived this long, and there’s not reason to stop now. I can’t change how I’m living.

Sometimes I don’t wanna be who I am I wanna play electric guitar Wear black converse drawn all over Cut my hair short And talk to someone new Maybe I’ll pretend Just for a little while I’m the type of person, The one who always talks Who stands up for myself Doesn’t care if I’m a b*tch Cause I just love myself But step behind the curtain Lock the door of my room I heard the whispers Saw their glances I’m so scared And I hate myself But yet even though I feel this way And I know I’m totally not sane I still have to get up each day But I don’t wanna make the bed.

(i wrote this as a song and this was so freaking fun for me, i love doing this kind of thing with songs) I follow her on all the socials I know you broke up so long ago But I still think she’s kinda cool I don’t know why, but yet I’m here Maybe I’m a little obsessed with your ex She’s a spicy pisces And I kinda admire that But she really did care about you And I know we’re dating and I love you but Girls supporting girls And this girl kinda rocks She got her heart broken Cause she cared like a lot She’s got pretty brown hair Curly and free Whenever she goes out She’s the life of the party Makes me wanna go Just to go and see I’m so damn obsessed With your ex I bet you I know more about her Than you ever did I’m so damn obsessed I go to all the places she went What’s her favorite food? I like it Does she have a dog? I love him Did she think you’re crazy? Samesies Oh my god this girl Wish I could be friends with her so bad I’m reading her book And styling my hair She has a pink ribbon, guess what color mine is? She likes brunch on Saturday Sorry, guess I’m busy then And she likes to cat-sit Now I’m so obsessed I’m so damn obsessed With your ex I bet you I know more about her Than you ever did I’m so damn obsessed Yeah I love her It’s like I’m her best friend Even though we’ve never met Cause I know anything and everything Look, I just saw her

dior perfume and versace dress with chanel earrings louis vuitton bag sparkly gucci shoes and hermès scarves bottega veneta shirt armani tie bvlgari watches bracelet from prada YSL makeup palette burberry backpack but what use is all this when it means nothing? i’m telling a story but nobody cares i’m sharing some tales but nobody listens losing car keys and forgetting names can’t slow down or i’ll get confused stuck in the past never did grow up look and act the same i can’t change but why do i do this when it won’t make a difference? don’t know where i left my designer headband or rings can’t find my light get a slap on the wrist and a scolding to my ear a kick in the shin and a harsh chastise never doing anything right unable to walk straight can’t even talk correctly either too heavy or too light why can’t i be perfect like all the girls i see? i tried and tried but was always… irresponsible.

Not they type of emo leave me alone kind of guy. Yeah he has a cool haircut and ear piercings, sure he has scars and a wolf tattoo But definitely not the west all black type There something lacking in the commitment apartment sure he’s in the military and all the comradely is great but closer relationships he’s slipping from. It didn’t affect him anymore the pained goodbyes he used to feel The feeling of people not understanding him But he knows people are out there just like him and he didn’t want to give up on them They have a reason to live He’s a very loyal empathetic person yet he scares other low key guys and classic elders away His songs are dark and edgy but there’s meaning behind the words Only music can cure the worlds hurts

(The original song is literally telling a story already smh but somehow I made it into a different story? I don’t know just roll with it. It lines up with the song too somehow so… yeah there’s that 🤠!) Hi. My name is Heather. And I’m in love with my best friend. My best friend loves someone else, though. The most handsome guy around. So I’m left trying to pretend to be happy for her. I still remember, on the third of December, me in your sweater. You said it looked better on me than it did you. That was a lie. Only if you knew, everything looks beautiful on you. The green color compliments your eyes. If you knew that I loved you would you change your mind? Probably not. I watch your eyes as he walks by. Your eyes shine brighter than the blue sky. You’re mesmerized by him. I watch on the sidelines, dying. Why would you ever kiss me? I’m not even half as pretty as him, nor am I half as pretty as you. You gave him your sweater, the same one you let me borrow. It’s just polyester. But you like him better. Why can’t I be him? I’m stuck being Heather. Watch as he stands with you holding your hand, you put your arm ‘round his shoulder. I can feel myself getting colder. But how can I hate him? He’s such an angel, hasn’t done a single thing wrong in his life. But then again, kinda wish he were dead when he walks by, and your eyes light up, brighter than the blue sky. He’s got you mesmerized. All while I die. Why would you ever kiss me? You’ll always be the most pretty. You gave him your sweater. It’s just polyester to you, but to me it’s the symbol of me and you. But you like him better, you gave him our symbol. I’m stuck being Heather. Oh, I’m stuck being Heather. Oh, I’ll always be stuck being Heather. Why would you ever kiss me? When I’m no where near as pretty. You gave him our sweater. It’s just polyester. But you like him better. I’m stuck being…

And there she was. A heartbroken brunette who only exists in your memories. She had been gone for a while and you thought you had gotten over her. But you were wrong. She was only hidden in the back of your mind and just a single thought made the memories come rushing back. And now you were the heartbroken one

“There’s a world that was meant for our eyes to see.” Standing the precipice of the coming new decade, at the crest of a mountain with a curving road winding ahead, he looked into her eyes and waited, hand out stretched for hers, the sun shining in his eyes and wind playing through their hair. “Will you follow me?” He asked, voice soft and sad, though he smiled a little. She hesitated, glancing from his hand to his pretty dark eyes, her own fingers knitting together tightly. “If you won’t, I’ll say goodbye.” It wasn’t a threat, just a statement free of doubt. There would be no resentment if she said no. And she did, with a slight shake of her head. His smiled genuinely then, wistful and sad but understanding. He nodded, and a stray strand of hair fell over his forehead, catching at his lashes. He let his hand fall, turning to face the distant mountains. She hitched forward awkwardly, making as if to reach for him but stopping herself. “Why must you go at all?” She asked, a pleading note in her question. He sighed heavily, eyes on winding yellow and gray lines running into the foothills. The sun was a line of fire tracing the horizon, the mountains outlined in orange. “What good is living the life you’ve been given, if all you do is stand in one place?” And so they parted, her getting in her car for the small quiet life of stability and home, to live and die in the same place she was born. As for him, he started walking, boots beating like a steady heart as he treaded pavement, the sun drawing up wavering heat from the asphalt. The growing breeze buffeted against his body, carrying the biting edge of cold from the north where he was headed. There was no certainty in where he was headed or what he’d find, or if he’d even ever return alive, but on he walked, bound for the ends of the earth.

I sit down on the chair in front of the therapist. I hate it here. I don’t want to be here. I miss my mirror. My hallucinations. They want them to stop. To go away. As the therapist speaks, I don’t listen. I only listen to myself. I think. I think of what people say to me. They call me mental, crazy, psycho. I was just trying to have fun. “Are you listening?” the doctor asked. I looked at her, frowning. Her face seemed disoriented. Her eyes grew to big for her head. Her mouth curls upward. I shake my head and she goes back to normal. “Well, I think you need a mental hospital,” she said. “What?!” I stand up. She flinches. I clench my fists. Hurt her, a voice says. Kill her. I start to smile. The doctor raises herself up and heads for the door, probably frightened, I follow her. Before she can leave, I grab her shoulder and throw her to the ground. She screams and I lock the door. I tackle her. The doctor continues to scream. I grab the skin on her face and start tearing it. I’ve never known my own strength. Then I kick the table and a leg breaks off. I grab the chair leg and raise it over her head. “Why are you doing this?” the doctor asks. “All the best people are crazy,” I whisper. Then I puncture the wood into her head. I carefully step into the tub. The water immediately turned red from blood. Not my blood. I lay down and close my eyes, smiling. No one can stop me. I reach for my pants and pull something out of the pocket. It was the left over brain. I start eating it. Blood stained my mouth. My eyes role back as I taste it. I could see the shadow in the corner of the room, smiling at me. It was pleased.