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What if the whole world was against you? Warning: Moderate Cursing. Probably not for those below 12.

What if the whole world was against you? Warning: Moderate Cursing. Probably not for those below 12.

Posted January 17th, 2013 by soph-soph27

soph-soph27's picture
by Impossible Girl
in destructible

January 17th, 2013


Instant words, straight from the can!


What would you call that moment, when suddenly you realize that it is you against the world, and that you will be crushed underneath the world, because there will not be anyone to stand next to you when it falls? What would you call that moment?

All, all alone, and your friends are gone, cause c’mon who needs you? So you just SIT there, a third wheel (except for tricycles) and you just laugh at yourself, cause you don’t even feel like you need YOURSELF anymore. And they whisper and smile, and you have to pretend to act good natured and not annoyed, but it’s so hard that sometimes you just need to sit down and write something, like a rant, except it isn’t a rant, because you don’t call it one. They lean over something, and laugh, because it’s an inside joke and you can’t do ANYTHING about it,


Pity is disgusting. It really is. Pity is an uncooked, raw, slimy thing that squelches underfoot when you trudge through the rain from your friends house to another friends house, except- what do you know, they forgot about it. And what else can you do, you just say whoops, sorry, I guess I better go, and you know that your friends mom will tell them later, why didn’t you tell me they were coming, I thought they weren’t coming till Wednesday. But pity stays there, lying on the couch, withering on the carpet, and waiting for you when you have an argument to wrap you inside its annoying claws. Claws of death? No duh, it just SITS there like you sat there, and you don’t even want to breath anymore, cause you’re getting suffocated by pity until you just want to punch it in the face, saying well screw you pity, I can make my only goddamn marks and bruises, and I don’t need your damn help.


Why does having friends matter so damn much? Why can’t somebody just sit alone in solace without getting stupid looks? Cause of purpose, that’s why, and the fact is, without friends, you have no purpose, so you get tossed aside, an empty plastic bag, a pillowcase torn beyond repair, perhaps a broken mirror, or maybe just a soiled napkin that gets thrown away. But what about those people who are tote bags and special embroidered pillowcases, the kind your mom gets from your grandmother ever so often? And what happens to those special, gilded handle mirrors and the fancy cloth napkins? Nothing, they lie aside, untouched, and they gossip, and look at you and laugh, because who needs somebody who’s minor and who doesn’t mean anything anymore, when they can be tossed aside and replaced by somebody else who’s friendless?


Responsibility is either good or bad, or cumbersome or wonderful and light. It weighs on you when you trudge along the hallways and you realize slowly that people depend on you to be perfect, to be that perfect model for everybody to look up to, and when you aren’t, they say aren’t they awful, where did they learn such things, I better talk to the parents. But when you are all they say is oh, what a young lady or gentleman, and oh what good manners you have and oh what have YOU been thinking about lately, what high school you want to go to? And you just smile, this fake smile plastered on your face and nod, the fakeness sticking to you like shadows on cobwebs on a cold winter night when the power goes out. And aren’t you an amazing role model, the young man or lady who sets the table very night, and you cry silently, because nobody knows what you hold behind you, and you feel like you need to let it out, but you can’t because the window will shatter, leaving your thoughts, hateful rages and vents to flood out in a monsoon or a hurricane, and there won’t be anything but frosted glass left.


You know the way someone acts when they’re lying? How their eyes go up into corners that you can’t see, and how they look at you and giggle, and act nervous? Lies. Lies are what powered so many things; millions of things, murders were carried on the wings of lies, smuggled underneath the cloaks of lies. Assassinations too, powered by lies. But why would anybody lie? Well, it’s their choice, but sometimes you think, well they must lie to save themselves. Or perhaps, to save another, under other circumstances you think. But you know the worst is when you’re walking around and you hear your name, so you hurry over, look I can talk to these people. But when you reach them, what happens, you walk up to them and they say oh sorry, I need to go, giggling the entire way, and you stare after them and wilt, and nobody notices, because who will notice you standing in the corner abandoned?

See more stories by Impossible Girl
My Lord, this is

My Lord, this is gorgoues.

You have a true, beautiful talent.

And when I say my Lord (excuse me to all the religous people out there), I mean it.

YOLO Generation3. When you see this, post it on your sig as a sign of epykness with the next number

Posted by pickle on Fri, 01/18/2013 - 09:07
That was so beautiful. So

That was so beautiful. So heartbreakingly beautiful.

Amazing job =) As soon as I was finished reading this, I immediately clicked the fave button =D


Read Ena/TDC and Ian/Turtle's book, The Dark Calligrapher: http://www.kidpub.com/book-page-or-chapter/dark-calligrapher-prologue-19...

Posted by ~~Calla~~ on Thu, 01/17/2013 - 09:49
This is amazing! You're an

This is amazing! You're an extremely talented writer. Faved! smiley

Please enter my genre contest! http://www.kidpub.com/book-page-or-chapter/genre-contest-please-enter-17...

Posted by SnowyOwl (Abbey... on Thu, 01/17/2013 - 12:00

This...Was...beautifully heartbreaking.

*Wipes tears away*

Amazing how you can use words to do this.



Bow ties are cool.

Posted by Michelle on Thu, 01/17/2013 - 14:32
Faved.  :) ~~ The past is

Faved.  :)


The past is the past, and you can't change it. You can change the future, though. So why do teachers always yak at us on how bad we did on tests? They should be preparing us for the future. -Me :)

Posted by President Snow ... on Thu, 01/17/2013 - 16:13
 How you use words... It's

crying How you use words... It's beautiful DD; I just wanna cry because it's just... so true!

Posted by Deborah on Thu, 01/17/2013 - 18:17
Wow.     Art is the




Art is the weapon. Imagination the ammunition. Stay strong, and stay dirty. Create and destroy as you see fit.

Posted by Planetary Insom... on Tue, 01/22/2013 - 17:21

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