You are not special
Poetry by Florence Susanne
You have to pick yourself up off the ground, because no one is going to be there to do it for you.
You have to dust the dirt off your knees, shake off the pain that’s holding you back and get.
The fuck.
Up.
You have to learn how to make yourself better, because no one is going to sit there and baby you.
Understand that you are not someone special to anyone.
Get over it.
Learn to fight for yourself.
Because no one is going to fight for you.
Your battles are your own.
No one else’s.
You must love yourself.
Because if you don’t, you’ll rely too heavily on the affections of others.
And if they leave,
WHEN they leave.
Oh God, it is going to kill you.
And you’ll be back to square one, self-loathing.
Expecting everyone else to love you, to protect your ever so fragile heart.
No one is going to cater to your feelings.
The only person who should matter to you, is yourself.
Heal your broken heart before you put it in the hands of one much more destructive than yourself.
About the Creator
Florence Susanne
I am a 24-year-old of mother of 2 boys.
Author of Love, Lust, and Misery
Author of Poems from a Schizophrenic Mind
Keep reading
More stories from Florence Susanne and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Bird Nest
Downy tufts puff out, Warmth inside a house of hair, Drowsiness abounds. A/N: I sometimes imagine what it would be like to sleep in a bird nest, provided I can be bird-sized in the fantasy of course. I think it would be cosy! More longer stories to come! -TWW
By ThatWriterWoman4 days ago in Poets
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis4 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.