“Another tree again” Her eyebrows creased together as she squinted critically at the tree I doodled on the paper. 

“What?” I pouted and took another look at it. I was no artist, but it looked OK to me.

I guess I like drawing trees, because no matter what kind of tree you draw, Maple, Chestnut, Pine, all tree’s are different and unique in every way. There are no such things as drawing the ‘perfect tree’ because everyone is so different in their own way that to say one specific tree is the perfect one, would be a mere insult to every 100 billion trees out there.

Every leaf, is different. So is every branch.

I’d like to think of people as trees. We’re all different. We all have different roots, different seeds. Some of us grow better in certain kinds of weather. We all need love and care to grow. No matter the weather, rain or shine we still have to go through life. Other’s leave their marks on us, as we hope to leave ours on them.

We’re all different. Unique. Special.

Food for thought? I’d like cheesecake, please. Thanks.

I hear your hollow laughter and sighs of secret pain,

Pretending and inventing just to hide your shame,

Plastic smiles and faces, blinking back your tears,

Empty friends and faces that magnify your fears,

If your tired and weary, weak and alone,

I will take your burden because I can understand what it’s like to be alone,

It hurts to watch you struggle and try so hard to win,

Wasting precious momments restless and confused,

Building up your defences, a wall of fear that you’ll be used,

Let me walk by your side,

Let me heal your heartache and tears you’ve never cried,

Never will I leave you or ever turn away,

Keep you through the darkness, lead you through the day,

We won’t get caught the in cobwebs,

We could run away.

It begins as it always does, a petty chase,

You can’t run forever but you keep the pace,

You run to comfort, run for ease,

You can’t any longer, you fall to your knees.

This has to be a nightmare,

It can’t be true,

Forbidden places, your fingers turn blue,

You scream and run, comb through the trees,

Thin branches like fingers, cold wind like tongues,

Does the moon look blue, a dark whisper, a cold voice,

You begin to scream,

There is no noise.

It’s hard to stay mad when there’s so much beauty in the world. Especially when I feel like I’m seeing it all at once, all of the sudden, and, it’s too much. 

My heart expands like a balloon that’s about to burst and fills up my chest.

Then, I remember to relax, and try to just, not hold on to it, and right then, it flows through me like rain.

And I can’t feel anything but gratitude for every single moment in my stupid little life.

I’m pretty sure you have no idea what I’m talking about, but don’t worry. You will. One day.

Ember rocks on mountain of gold,

Gushing water with no end,

Withering leaves a washing down,

On mounds of sand.

But with peace and tranquillity

Comes death and harm,

A whole new way to see,

The world comes crashing down.

When man comes in and cuts us down.

There are 5 types of people in the world that make me mad. 

1) The Hater.

Ah, the hater. I think that I can speak for behalf of everyone when I say that everyone hates the hater (ironically, enough). But, it just seems to me that the hater would go all way out just to hate on or disrespect that other person. Or that they seem to find joy in making another person feel less of themselves. As if life isn’t hard as it is already. I wonder how they look at themselves in the mirror. Maybe guilt isn’t a reality for everyone.

2) The Copycat.

It’s just infuriating to me that someone can have absolutely to imaginative thought whatsoever in their entire life. 

Of course, getting inspiration from and copying is two entirely different thing. There is no harm and seeing what someone  else is doing and getting inspiration from it. If someone got inspired by what I do, or how I am, I take that as the second most greatest level of flattery (jealously being the first greatest level of flattery) But to copy and flat out get/become an mirror image is just something I cannot respect.

3) The Smartasses.

Also know as the Know It All. Smart Asses or Know It All’s think they know everything and have the greatest tendency to rub that in your face. We know you’re smart. Good for you.

But what gets to me most about Know It All’s is that they for one second cannot believe that you have done something to surpass their “great knowledge”. It’s either you’ve ‘cheated’ or ‘guessed’. In their eyes, no one else is capable of doing something as great or -if they forbid- even greater.

4) The Self Centred.

Because you’re awesome. Because the whole world revolves around you and you always, nay, MUST come first. 

Because no one is even as close to being as good as you.

Because you are always one step higher than everyone else.

Because it just so happens, everyone will stop what their doing to look at you when you walk into the room.

A high self esteem is a good thing. But there comes to one point where a high self esteem is a bad thing, and it’s called egotistical. Having a high self esteem is good. But thinking you’re much better and more important than everyone, is not.

(I think the “I am miss perfect” people can fit under this category)

5) The Busybodies.

If I wanted to let you know. I would have told you by now.

And there’s a borderline between being nosy, and caring.

So, if you’re a self centred, egoistic, copy cat, who’s egoistic and a busybody, it’s time to meet my >:( face. Yeah. You make me mad.

Old #7

There’s a full moon tonight,

Drifting through the sky

like a sad ghost

gazing down on me

with soft, soft eyes

as though it understands.

It’s pathetic,

That the only person that I feel understands me,

Is the man on the moon.

Old #6

It’s cold.

The chill creept into my room,

unwelcomed,

introuding.

A breathy plead escapes my lips,

I watch as my hot breath

fight against the mist

upwards, swirling, upwards.

It’s cold.

Old #5

No more time to run,

No more time to think,

No more time to breath, 

No more time to live.

My time is running out,

Sand in the hour glass slowly falling,

Slowly escaping my desperate grasps,

Like catching water with open palms.

What happened to my time?

What happened to my seconds? My hours? My years?

It already tomorrow.

Old #4

Thank goodness for masks.

Or the world would be run by bête noire’s, 

Instead of men smiling, promising us better futures,

Thank goodness for masks.

Or the world would be a series of heart breaks,

And apologies.

Thank goodness for masks,

Or I would be the girl who cries, screams, yells.

But now I’m just the girl who doesn’t give a damn.

Old #3

The seconds tick away quickly,

Quietly.

But the days past by too far too fast,

Too loud,

To go unnoticed. 

Old #2

I look happy, I look just perfect to you.

But underneath these words are lies, frustration; and want.

Yeah. Sometimes my thoughts might seem absolute, or substantial even, if you might. These words might seem big to you. But the things that have propelled these thoughts into my mind have only caused me to break down.

Behind them, is weakness.

There’s so many emotions behind the words that no one will ever see. No matter how hard I think of words to try to explain them. No matter what words I form that don’t makes sense, I am weak. This paragraph is weak.

My thoughts runs in circles again and again until I’m just too mentally tired and have no other choice but to escape the reality of life. I sleep.

And sometimes, it’s that one dream I have that gives me hope to want to wake up and face reality again.

So yeah. Dear lethargy, hear me out.

Love,

Rachel.

Old

If someone were to give me wings, what would I do.

If someone were to give me wings, would I fly away? Would I dare? Would I summon up the courage and the integrity to take of and fly to that far, far away land.

I know with all my being that I want to get there. This clean untouched place that I have pictured up in my head. But me being a coward, I’m scared to venture of into the unknown when I’ve been somewhere comfortable enough to call well, not necessarily home, but a house. To know where I’ve kept last week’s dishes with my eyes closed, and know I have bum prints on my chairs.

So when someone comes along and tells me that they’d kidnap me and run away with me to the moon, it seems pretty hard to not fall; even though I know inside with all my heart I’m trying to stop myself. Trying to stop myself from something I’m scared of.

I’ve always been one to be afraid of heights, but what does this say when you make the fall look so appealing.