All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
most of the time I’m happy.
By happy I mean Im able to turn up the corners of my mouth and expose my front teeth to give them the facial expression of which I one-forth feel.
Rest of the time I feel haunted.
Haunted by each and every person, situation, and conversation that has shown me the side of life that I wish I hadn’t seen.
They all say I live in a bubble, they say I run from reality but do you blame me?
As a child, I loved to converse. mom tells me I was always happy to see new faces and shook hands on my own with almost everyone who smiled at me but that was sure before I was left shaken by a few.
Im not a “wussy” but Im still scared. Im scared of how humans are equipped with so many emotions.
And a little side note for you here- don’t ever be hesitant to read the word “emotions” as “weapons” in any text you read.
Who doesn’t like to start a little romance at first.
And who doesn’t become a broken piece of lego lying on the floor afterwards. Either with the sharp end upwards, ready, rather urging, to hurt whoever tries to step on them next. Or a broken piece that excepts its fate waits to fit somewhere, anywhere just to be a part of something, somehow again.
conclusion- once you’re unpacked, you’re never that shiny beautiful lego block again.
I don’t cry a lot anymore. Nor do I speak much. What's funny is they think this is badass while I fear they’d call me too reticent.
Not just me but even Santa’s gifts are unpacked for a few years now. No wonder I confuse him.