The Saints Of Mibba
Secrets and Fears.
I’ve always been the type of girl who let everything go. Forgive and forget. I forgave everyone, no matter what they’d done. It was always the thing everyone loved about me. Or I thought they loved anyway.
It got to a point where people completely misunderstood who I was. They didn’t walk over me, no. They TRAMPLED on me. Treaded on my feelings. And the stupid thing is, I kept forgiving them. Over and over again I would allow them to get away with what they’d done. And thinking back to it now, it hurts much more than it did then.
My wish is to get some real friends.
But, not matter how much I want it to, that wish never comes true. I have done everything. I have changed for someone else to like me, and I have ripped myself apart, rearranged who I was, and put the pieces back together again. Nothing worked, nothing at all.
I made new friends, even though I knew they were nothing along the lines of what I was. I faked who I was. From time to time, it would work. For a week or two, I’d feel okay.
Then, as quickly as it started, it would end. They’d do something completely out of order. I’d forgive and forget and start again.
In the simple words of Paramore, I don’t want to start over again.
But, not this time. These past few weeks, I have finally come to realize who I am and who my friends are. I hate my best friend. I’m afraid to say it, but I’m not afraid to show it. I ignore her. She’s a selfish bitch. She’s let a boy get in the way it’s making the only friend I can say I’m proud to have ever been in fall apart. I have to choose. I hate making decisions. Always have, always will.
Mibba. Mibba is my only getaway. As weird as it is, I’m scared of myspace now. It’s become a generation that can steal your mind and change you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
Mibba allows me to be creative. It allows me to show my feelings a way no one else does. And do you know what? I’m a fucking saddo. I’m obsessed with Mibba. Overly obsessed. All the people on here are so nice, so amazing. So much better than what I’m left with. But, complaining is something you can do for so long. So I’m gonna say something happy. Mibba, I am PROUD to call you my life. And the people on it? I’m proud to call you my friends. Writing is my everything now. To know I'm an inspiration to some people makes life that much more bearable.
My grandfather died a few months ago. Just a week plus after my birthday. My age isn’t important, but not ONCE did I get to see him. It saddens me. I don’t even know what he looked like. The one time I saw him, was a picture of him in his deathbed. It hurt so bad to know that my grandfather would never get to meet me, let alone me meet him. He was an old man, 87.
I live in one of the most dangerous areas in London. A girl got stabbed just a mile or two away from my school. No more than five minutes. And it scares me, that, one day, that could be me. I could have done something wrong. I may not have. But the sick and twisted people in this world have me thinking the worst.
I’m gullible, angel, gullible. I’m living in a world of fear. Secrets and Fears. They have taken over my life.
That feeling that something bad is going to happen has filled me to the tip of my toes. I can feel it, I can feel it so much. But, no matter what, there is one thing I have to keep on my mind. My little sister. My everything. She means so much to me, and I have to keep strong. For her, and NO ONE ELSE.
The one person I want to thank is Bella. My REAL best friend. She may not know it, but I love you. Even though there is no chance in heaven or hell you will read this, I love you so much.
I don’t want to mention music. I don’t feel right to mention it. But his helped me a whole lot.
I feel like the people around me don’t know me. They can’t handle my feelings. And I feel like a fake.
But one thing I will never EVERY forget. Not matter how cliché this sounds, I mean this on a whole knew effing level. I’m not afraid to keep on living.
It got to a point where people completely misunderstood who I was. They didn’t walk over me, no. They TRAMPLED on me. Treaded on my feelings. And the stupid thing is, I kept forgiving them. Over and over again I would allow them to get away with what they’d done. And thinking back to it now, it hurts much more than it did then.
My wish is to get some real friends.
But, not matter how much I want it to, that wish never comes true. I have done everything. I have changed for someone else to like me, and I have ripped myself apart, rearranged who I was, and put the pieces back together again. Nothing worked, nothing at all.
I made new friends, even though I knew they were nothing along the lines of what I was. I faked who I was. From time to time, it would work. For a week or two, I’d feel okay.
Then, as quickly as it started, it would end. They’d do something completely out of order. I’d forgive and forget and start again.
In the simple words of Paramore, I don’t want to start over again.
But, not this time. These past few weeks, I have finally come to realize who I am and who my friends are. I hate my best friend. I’m afraid to say it, but I’m not afraid to show it. I ignore her. She’s a selfish bitch. She’s let a boy get in the way it’s making the only friend I can say I’m proud to have ever been in fall apart. I have to choose. I hate making decisions. Always have, always will.
Mibba. Mibba is my only getaway. As weird as it is, I’m scared of myspace now. It’s become a generation that can steal your mind and change you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.
Mibba allows me to be creative. It allows me to show my feelings a way no one else does. And do you know what? I’m a fucking saddo. I’m obsessed with Mibba. Overly obsessed. All the people on here are so nice, so amazing. So much better than what I’m left with. But, complaining is something you can do for so long. So I’m gonna say something happy. Mibba, I am PROUD to call you my life. And the people on it? I’m proud to call you my friends. Writing is my everything now. To know I'm an inspiration to some people makes life that much more bearable.
My grandfather died a few months ago. Just a week plus after my birthday. My age isn’t important, but not ONCE did I get to see him. It saddens me. I don’t even know what he looked like. The one time I saw him, was a picture of him in his deathbed. It hurt so bad to know that my grandfather would never get to meet me, let alone me meet him. He was an old man, 87.
I live in one of the most dangerous areas in London. A girl got stabbed just a mile or two away from my school. No more than five minutes. And it scares me, that, one day, that could be me. I could have done something wrong. I may not have. But the sick and twisted people in this world have me thinking the worst.
I’m gullible, angel, gullible. I’m living in a world of fear. Secrets and Fears. They have taken over my life.
That feeling that something bad is going to happen has filled me to the tip of my toes. I can feel it, I can feel it so much. But, no matter what, there is one thing I have to keep on my mind. My little sister. My everything. She means so much to me, and I have to keep strong. For her, and NO ONE ELSE.
The one person I want to thank is Bella. My REAL best friend. She may not know it, but I love you. Even though there is no chance in heaven or hell you will read this, I love you so much.
I don’t want to mention music. I don’t feel right to mention it. But his helped me a whole lot.
I feel like the people around me don’t know me. They can’t handle my feelings. And I feel like a fake.
But one thing I will never EVERY forget. Not matter how cliché this sounds, I mean this on a whole knew effing level. I’m not afraid to keep on living.
♠ ♠ ♠
by indulgence.