~Some disconnections will bless your life~

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  • nobolb 3w

    Thank you @writersnetwork ...!��

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    Sometimes You feel like
    You're dying on asphalt.
    Battered and broken,
    Crying and crawling
    Your way to safety.

    Sometimes You feel like
    You're trapped under ice.
    Struggling for air
    As water fills your lungs
    While people above just stare.

    Sometimes You feel like
    You wouldn't be in this place.
    Like you make so many mistakes,
    People want you out of their lives
    So they'd ridicule you until you died.

    Sometimes you feel like
    Love isn't for you.
    You never know which way to go
    And You always make huge mistakes,
    Leaving you sorry in the quake.

    And sometimes you feel like
    You're dead inside.
    Apathy is all You breath.
    You cut yourself and dream of suicide.
    Nobody looks at you straight in the eye.

  • nobolb 3w

    I know the moment
    I saw him
    He was going to bring the best in me
    He was going to be the source of my madness..!��

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    (You say) It is not love, it is madness
    My madness may be the cause of your fame
    Sever not my relationship with you
    If nothing then be my enemy
    What is the meaning of notoriety in meeting me
    If not in public court meet me alone
    I am not my own enemy
    So what if the stranger is in love with you
    Whatever you are, it is due to your own being
    If this not known then it is ignorance
    Life though fleets like a lightening flash
    Yet it is abundant Time to be in love
    I do not want debate on the sustenance of love
    Be it not love but another dilemma
    Give something O biased One
    At least the sanction to cry and plea
    I will perpetuate the rituals
    Even if cruelty be your habit
    Teasing and cajoling the beloved cannot leave 'Asad'
    Even if there is no union and only the desire remains, so accept madness too...!

  • nobolb 3w

    ~When a bookmark tumbles out of an old book pristine and unwrinkled, it is like a gasp of breath from another century.~��

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    Velvet heart romantics sensual bounce, embolden relish despite an North Pole shiver in the midst of snowfall inlay awning cloth. Love-in-a-mist, synonym or Earth ground clay akin, sown wistfully underneath a picturesque garden card ritual. Deep violet iris clusters boast white and yellow matchmaker pollen. Cheerful daffodil orange hue amply shades it on charm-laden eye bright lustre optic. Boundary wall purple clad aesthetic for just we two human link chain jubilance. Amidst this amorous enchantment other panoramic backdrops herald visual gems. Lesser redpoll dream tone, cinnamon-brown species, Black warbler stone grey plumage genus, forage and sequester round broadleaf tree pure gold orb seed lure, fruit and berry composite on hedgerow another bird food haunt. Wether valentines bewitched, raw bone ice chill plummet or iridescent wingspan blue sky flyer, February’s an on the button bookmark

  • nobolb 3w

    It was many and many a year ago,
    In a kingdom by the sea,
    That a maiden there lived whom you may know
    By the name of Annabel Lee;
    And this maiden she lived with no other thought
    Than to love and be loved by me.

    I was a child and she was a child,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
    But we loved with a love that was more than love—
    I and my Annabel Lee—
    With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
    Coveted her and me.
    And this was the reason that, long ago,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
    A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
    My beautiful Annabel Lee;
    So that her highborn kinsmen came
    And bore her away from me,
    To shut her up in a sepulchre
    In this kingdom by the sea.

    The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
    Went envying her and me—
    Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
    In this kingdom by the sea)
    That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
    Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
    But our love it was stronger by far than the love
    Of those who were older than we—
    Of many far wiser than we—
    And neither the angels in Heaven above
    Nor the demons down under the sea
    Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

    For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
    Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
    In her sepulchre there by the sea—
    In her tomb by the sounding sea.
    --Edgar Allan Poe’s


    //~Since I can remember, reading has been something that I run to when life gets hard. That seems silly, I know. A bunch of paper with various permutations of 26 letters made who I am today. For that to even be possible, authors have to have a reason for writing. They write with a goal in mind, whether it be just for fun or to change lives. I choose to believe that they write to have a significant impact on readers, to help imprint some form of wisdom upon us. This is a thank you letter to every author who decided that their life’s goal was to write and to unknowingly change my life for the better.

    L.J. Smith, Richelle Mead, Jodi Picoult and Charlaine Harris are just a few of hundreds of authors I’ve encountered over the years, but their respective novels and series have brought me the most enjoyment, heartbreak, anger, fear and relatively every emotion in between. The work of these women has taught me many things: reading, no matter the subject, is the perfect getaway. Some of the stories they tell demand you to feel your heart break into pieces. Some bring frustration, mostly because I read the books too quickly. I finish the new one before they even finish writing the next one. I cannot tell you how many months I went insane not knowing what was going to happen next.
    Thank you all for changing my personality every time I pick up a new book. When reading certain powerful books, the characters seem to come to life right inside my head. I almost see them as real people instead of fictional characters on pages. I always feel a sense of déjà vu whenever I go see a movie that I’ve read in book form first. If I feel a connection to a strong character, I tend to pick up their personality traits. For example: Rose Hathaway, from Richelle Mead’s "The Vampire Academy,"has had the most impact on me than has any other character, ever. Why? Not only is she beautiful, but she has a witty personality. She’s fiercely loyal, she’s stubborn and she proves that she’s stronger than just about any male out there. She’s an incredibly intense character, one that I will always deem as my favorite.

    Thank you for creating my safe place. I’ve always struggled with bullying, anxiety and depression. Books give me the feeling that I don’t have to live in the real world all the time, and that really helps when I’m dealing with something hard. There are millions of worlds out there, and that comforts me. Knowing that I can pick up a book and feel like I don’t have to be me anymore is the most incredible thing in the world. I don’t have to be sad. I can be Rose Hathaway, if only for a few hours.
    Thank you for teaching me creativity. Getting to know and understand a character based on an author’s words and description is something that everyone should feel excited about. This person just created another being with their mind and different arrangements of letters. It takes a truly talented writer to create something like that. A truly impeccable writer can make you feel every emotion in the spectrum. With a thought, they can rule your emotions. They create intense plot twists, deep characters and mesmerizing storylines. They do all of this with their mind. I would give just about anything for a chance to pick the mind of a famous author, if only to see how their creative process works.

    Thank you for teaching me that words matter. Because of my love for reading, I’ve expanded my vocabulary exponentially. Finding new words and reading them in your books has given me a taste of what I want my future writings to be. I want them to have depth. I want them to stand out. I want to use beautiful words that not every other average Joe uses in their writing. I have a love for words, and that’s all thanks to you.

    Finally, thank you for showing me which path in life I should take. I plan to pursue a career in reading and writing, and that’s all because you have shown me how magical books truly are. You all have changed my life so much, and I want to be a part of that. I want to be part of the change. I want to be to other kids what you all have been to me. I want to provide a shelter. I want to provide creativity and emotion. One day, I’m going to be part of something amazing and I want to thank you for showing that to me.~//

    Thank you@writersnetwork ��

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    Vintage is my vocabulary... like the notes of a musician.

  • nobolb 4w

    A Drop fell on the Apple Tree –
    Another – on the Roof –
    A Half a Dozen kissed the Eaves –
    And made the Gables laugh –

    A few went out to help the Brook,
    That went to help the Sea –
    Myself Conjectured were they Pearls –
    What Necklaces could be –

    The Dust replaced, in Hoisted Roads –
    The Birds jocoser sung –
    The Sunshine threw his Hat away –
    The Bushes – spangles hung –

    The Breezes brought dejected Lutes –
    And bathed them in the Glee –
    The Orient put out a single Flag,
    And signed the Fete away –

  • nobolb 5w

    "And the sun took a step back, the leaves lulled themselves to sleep and autumn was awakened."

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    Every season hath its pleasures;
    Spring may boast her flowery prime,
    Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures
    Brighten Autumn's soberer time.
    So Life's year begins and closes;
    Days tho' shortening still can shine;
    What tho' youth gave love and roses,
    Age still leaves us friends and wine.

    Phillis, when she might have caught me,
    All the Spring looked coy and shy,
    Yet herself in Autumn sought me,
    When the flowers were all gone by.
    Ah, too late;--she found her lover
    Calm and free beneath his vine,
    Drinking to the Spring-time over,
    In his best autumnal wine.

    Thus may we, as years are flying,
    To their flight our pleasures suit,
    Nor regret the blossoms dying,
    While we still may taste the fruit,
    Oh, while days like this are ours,
    Where's the lip that dares repine?
    Spring may take our loves and flowers,
    So Autumn leaves us friends and wine

  • nobolb 5w

    @writersnetwork @miraquill

    A big part of depression is feeling really lonely, even if you’re in a room full of a million people.

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    The Daily Battle

    It is the darkest, deepest place one can travel to alone,
    A solo journey filled with struggles and groans.
    Every day is a new battle against the same foe,
    But the enemy fights back with psychological blows.
    It creeps up on you in your most vulnerable state,
    Especially when there's no one around who can relate.
    Thoughts in your mind begin to swirl and swell,
    Which drag you into your own subconscious hell.
    Figments and entities from your past
    Serve as the pain, which you can't outlast.
    Finally sleep always comes as a welcomed friend,
    But it the morning the ceaseless battle begins yet again.

  • nobolb 7w

    Lilas s’estompent en beige

    moi l’oubli



    Lilacs fade, forget me

    too in soft


  • nobolb 10w

    Dear Mom,

    I'm sorry that it had to come to this.
    I'm sorry that I am no longer here when you're reading this,
    I just couldn't play a game that I wasn't good at so like everything else, I've decided to quit.
    The thoughts in my head just kept getting worse.
    They wouldn't shut off this time, they just kept piling up like the stacks of homework laid on my desk and believe me I tried my best to get an A but all I got was "good effort".
    I don't want to live my life getting praised for my effort when it comes with failure and yes I know that I have failed you but Mom I promise this is the last time.
    I've put you through more sleepless nights than days worth getting up for.
    I can't even remember the last time you smiled and I know it's all my fault.
    I wasn't the child you wanted,
    I became everything I said I would never be.
    So instead of blaming dad for walking out on us, blame me for walking out on a world that left me cold hearted and lifeless,
    With scars that resemble the smiley faces I haven't seen since I was a child -- a constant reminder that sometime long ago, I was okay.

    Maybe I'll be happy now.
    Maybe you'll finally get some sleep.

    Maybe I'll find a place where I belong because everyone says that girls do not have problems and I'm sorry that I spend my nights crying but I have every right to be sad.
    Depression is not sexist.
    It doesn't care what is in my pants -- it just cares about how long it will take before I surrender myself to the monsters that work at chipping my self worth away.
    No amount of anti depressants can erase the hate that lives within my self,
    And no amount of therapy can justify the scars on my skin that stick out like embroidered tattoos that give meaning to the years spent dying, silently.
    I've tried my hardest to push these thoughts to the back of my mind,
    Act as if all this pain did not exist because I didn't want to be one of those kids.
    The ones that spend the majority of their teenage years in and out of hospitals,
    Stared at under a microscope,
    Given special treatment because we're "fragile",
    But God Damn,
    I'm human, not a test subject.

    Please forgive me for all the nights I've caused you to lose sleep over,
    Endless hospital visits and frantic 911 calls.

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    To the teachers who never really cared and ignored my problems;

    To my fellow “*****”, “misfits”, etc. Who will no doubt receive more abuse upon my passing, as my tormentors will no longer have me to push around;

    To those who never cared, never spoke, probably never knew my name;

    To the one true friend, whose caring was the only thing that prevented this event from happening sooner;

    To the God, if he does exist, who chose to play a cruel, cruel joke on me when he placed me where he did and surrounded me with so many uncaring faces;

    What about my teachers? Will they be sorry to see another student become a statistic? Certainly the administration and Principal will mourn, as my death will not reflect well on them as an institution. Well, I apologize for making the statistics for your administration worse. But I don’t expect an apology for the false sympathies of people.

    As for my fellow students, those who made a more significant impact on my life, I know better than to expect my tormentors to mourn.

    There’s another group I have not yet addressed: those not like me who left me alone. Or should I say ignored me. I appreciate you sparing me any further harassment, but your inaction, your withheld hellos and how are you’s did more hurt than any name calling. Your inaction effectively excluded me from student life, from the human race. You left me isolated and alone, and no words I could say can convey to you the suffering you caused. I could name names, but in doing so, I would do more now for you than you ever did for me in life.
    I do not know what awaits me when I get down off this rope. Will there be a void? Or will I come face to face with God? I just don’t care anymore. If you’re anything like your people, I wouldn’t want to know you. You preached to love one another, yet I’ve felt everything except love from Christians. Even if I knew you were different, well, I'd still reject you. You have left your “followers” to treat people like me poorly. You have allowed so many of the people you “love”, including me, to suffer. So you want me to trust you with my life? I don’t want to spend eternity with a careless deity like you, or with the company you keep.

    I’m trying to watch TV but I don’t know what I’m watching. It’s so lonely here. I want to sleep but it just won’t come. I’m so tired of hurting and being alone.

    I hope that with my death, there'll be a wider awareness for child abuse and the effects it could have on a person. That's the only wish I have right now. A lot of people will be hurt with my passing, disappointed even, or maybe it won't matter. But I'd like to believe, no matter how much of a ****** up person I am, I died for a cause greater and bigger than myself. That's the only consolation that I have right now.

    So that’s it. That’s me. Leaving the world to be a better place.
    ©Priya Gupta

  • nobolb 10w

    Invisibility is a curse, not a superpower.

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    You don't notice the new scars on my arm... They've been there for a while now... I made some new ones today... I just feel so alone in this world... Like no one really cares... I just think my mental illness is getting the better of me... And honestly I'm not going to fight it any more... So one day you'll probably come home and see me lying on the floor, cold, lifeless... But know that I'm at peace...I'm happier now... I cant make you happy anymore... And that's totally okay. I'm content with that... But the fact that you're still staying with me... It puzzles me... Why stay with a suicidal maniac... A crazy
    person... I need to be in a mental hospital... Locked away... In a straight jacket... Where I cant cause anymore harm... To you or to myself... But you don't notice the scars, you ignore the signs... I cry... A lot... You don't notice the fake smile... That I'm wearing this mask... I'm taking it off tonight... Maybe you'll realize before its too late... Then again you probably wont... Its not your fault... I'm just really good at acting... You don't realize
    the pain... The constant struggle i have with myself... To be... Perfect... You don't realize the hurt.. When my tears hit the pillow and you're not there... But its okay. I forgive you... Just hope you can forgive me... One day... You don't realize the sadness... But you'll realize it... That day... That day that I'm gone...
    ©Priya Gupta