She is stale air and shredded flowers,
A smudge of lead too insignificant to be erased.
She is the cracks in the sidewalk that smother life trying to grow between them,
Manifesting the bitterness she harbors in being given a life she didn’t agree to. The lectures on how lucky she is to be alive have since seemed to lose their meaning.
Because yes, she is alive.
But she is not living.
The fire inside her that used to burn so bright was put out long ago by the ones who didn’t care.
Didn’t care that the sun didn’t rise for her,
And she forever wishing that she could run away into the night sky and become one with the stars that people time and time again have told her she is made of.
Perhaps she will burn up into oblivion and cease to exist,
The way she wishes she was in the first place.
Jaelyn.Aragon “An Unwanted Existence” (via jaelyn-aragon)