profile SHAVONNE Fourteen. Sometimes things happen when you least expect it. No Boundaries - Kris Allen gossips affiliates andrea annabelle anne annette athena alvin averyl amanda blogger blogskins beatrice bernice brenda brigette boon xin candice celine celineNG claire charmaine claudice charlene christabel cheryl cherlynn chengcheng chun yen deborah desiree diane dionne enping emily estee esmeralda evangeline evelle faith fanghua gabrielle genevieve grace graceYAP hazimah hillary hiromi huiping huiyu jackie jasmine tan joanne jocleen jolene judea jiali jiashyuan jiawei joeyLEE joeyLIM joshua juliaANG juliaKOH kimberlyWONG kymberlyBOK kimberlyGOH leticia liqin likeng louisa lynnie lynette mavis melanie melissa millie naomi natalie prince priscilla qian qianying qianyi qinzhen rebecca rae hsiang rachel rachel G. ricci ryan sarah shangge sheila shermaine shaun sofia sophia sophiaCHENG shiyin sueann suehwee tasha tristen TNS vera weeqin wenhui xiao pei xinrui xinhui yenyin yanyi 1.5 2.5 credits you can remove this if you don't have a conscience. i assure you i will not hunt you down. skin by: Jane |
Thursday, June 07, 2007 @ Thursday, June 07, 2007
The Seal to a Letter Unmailed You think they're just tears I'm crying, but they're not. My tears are the pieces of me that i shed; they're pieces that I lose along the way. I cry them for you-because of you. I cry because it is the only way I know how to say what I need to. It is impossible to have words when one cannot speak,let alone know what to say in order to express one's feelings and have them understood. Do you hear the pain in my tears? Do you even listen anymore? The pain has become so frequent that I'm not sure if you hear it but then just close your ears instead. You think that maybe if you aren't listening I will stop screaming through my silence. You think I'm quiet? Really? Because I have more to say than time can allow for. I say what I know and what I know you will understand. But it is through the quiet that I tell you my true thoughts-expose the most inner core of my being. It is through the silent sobs of my mourning soul that I give you a hint as to the desperation and depression deep inside of me. Do I not share enough with you already that you think there is more? You think there are things I keep from you? No. It is all there. It lies before your eyes, deep in my own, and it lingers in the slow, methodical breaths that I breathe when that is all I can do-just breathe and nothing more. I keep nothing from you. It is you who chooses to hear what you do, and it is you who refuses to understand what you don't. Who am I in this moment? You can't expect me to give you all of me when I don't even know what that emans. I suppose I am a girl, a young woman if it suits you to say that. In my head I am a child. I see things in a way that others don't, and I am amused by things that others ceased to take pleasure in. I am a frail girl, insecure and immature in the ways that many outgrow. Just like a baby, I have yet to find a way to express myself through words and with the language that most people choose to communicate with. All I can do now is speak through silence and through tears and hope that those listening will recognize and understand what each cry or unspoken word means. Sadly, not many people do, and if they get close, sometimes I confuse them by speaking words that alter the true meaning of the cry of my heart. So no, it's not just tears that I cry, I am crying me and it's all over you. |