Category Archives: grey & emo
Remember your last.
You sound so innocent, all full of good intent
Swear you know best
But you expect me to jump up on board with you
And ride off into your delusional sunset
I’m not the one who’s lost with no direction
But you’ll never see
You’re so busy making maps with my name on them in all caps
You got the talking down, just not the listening
And who cares if you disagree?
You are not me
Who made you king of anything?
So you dare tell me who to be?
Who died and made you king of anything?
Let me hold your crown, babe.
When life starts to fall apart at the seams, take advantage of it.
Depression means less appetite and hence less calorie intake. Capitalise! Start exercising. Losing weight inevitably makes everyone happy. Happy endorphins obtained from aforementioned physical activity might actually snap you out of depression too. If you’re the emo nemo kind that huddles up and composes songs / writes tragic love stories / melancholy poems, hop to it! Squeeze every last possible creative benefit you can from your misery!
After all, when misery comes knocking at your door, you may not always have company. So let it all out. No, I don’t mean cry! What’s the point of crying? All it does is give you a nose to challenge Rudolph’s, eyes to match and a terrible headache. No, that simply will not do. Misery can and must still look fabulous. Not to mention it’s a complete waste of time.
So ladies and gents, you know what to do the next time you feel depressed! Smile! Be creative! Be thin! Never let them see you falter. Remember, HAPPINESS IS OVERRATED!
-wide TV host-esque smile-
She didn’t want to be right.
She prayed, and hoped, and prayed, that she wasn’t right.
But she was even more certain now that she was.
Her head sank into her hands as she stared blankly down at the sand, willing the image to go away. Willing the truth to be washed away.
The sky cried the tears that horror and revulsion barred from her eyes.
Perhaps, perhaps it was time to write again.
X asked her how she felt, and she replied, “I do not.”
X’s brow creased in consternation, but he nevertheless kissed her forehead, as was his custom, and left, muttering meaningless platitudes about love.
She prayed he would not return.