.:.Forgotten Seashell.:.

"My declaration of youth, welcome to everything and nothing, this is truth, the last love song. Do I love who I am, what I've become, this girl, a seemingly diseased reflection of an addict craving a substance known as choosing life over death with every heartbeat? I'm a forgotten seashell, neglect the flower towards sunshine and leave it in the dark, what you do is what you get, you betray what won't die like you want it to but stays alive looking within one's self. I'll bleed my world with every drop. My name is whatever I can make it be such as compassion. I could be cold, I could be darker than what I've ever been, I could be beautiful, I could be warmth, I could be the storm, I could be winter, I could be summer, or I could be color in neon brights. I'm a sickness with or without a cure. I am who I am, something you could never be, just yourself in the realistic creation you design. I am me and you are you. Right is right and wrong is wrong. Good is good and bad is bad. My heart's on fire and when depression's regular on schedule daily pain dosage among indecision ceases, I'm secretly enjoying the life that I'm given. I know God gave me actual blessings which I'm supposed to be thankful for, and I am, just know for a fact that they won't always be there, the hurt will. I see it how it is and how it should and sometimes can be, it doesn't always have to stay as what depression makes it so horrid, it's my mindset towards the bridge to cross that sets the pace. I want to share myself with someone, and these are my diary entries. I feel so older than my years, worn down, tired, sad, and stressed. That's what depression does. You're eliminated the fastest, but you're the sole survivor. Past and present, angry tension, future dysfunction, something to look forward to reunion. Let the rain fall, consequence stings. My little piece of Heaven has Hell's angel wings. "Angel on my shoulder sitting there mangled, death at the same viewed meeting strangled." ~OxygenFrost