It's a collection of things I've written that do not really fit in just one spot.

"...Mouse reminded me terribly of him. The arguing the needing things to go their way how arrogant they could be...he needed things to be anarchy, Mouse was different. He couldn't stand things being anarchy, and I guess that's what kept them separate in my head. The needlessness for anarchy. The chaos they both caused on their own was enough to suffocate the everlasting peace I used to want to acquire. The moment I figured out that it was not a thing I actually yearned for, I gave up and let the war wage on whether I could win it or not. More often than not I was forced to lend a hand and turn the battle around. I suppose that's how things were-what do I really expect?

It's that god awful moment where I recognize there was a reason he and I never really worked out. Everything my friends told me-nearly everything- was right. he would turn around and be sweet as honey but in the end all he ever did was fight and ruin things and they told me, over and over, he was no good for me but I wanted so badly to believe things could work. I wanted to believe we could achieve anything and we couldn't. Mouse was so different and I wanted to disregard everything I'd ever thought I wanted, and I did. I attached one thing to him and let go wondering where it could take me and it didn't end well-of course it couldn't. I laid my hopes on something that turned into the opposite because I believed I could change it.

What did I really want out of those things? I was desperate for a release from my family and the life they wanted me to live. All we did was fight about what they thought was best for me and what I knew I wanted. They wanted to whisk me away all the time to force me into their wants and hopes and I couldn't stand it. I always felt like I was drowning in their expectations since that's all they ever told me. They wanted me to grow into this woman that couldn't hold her own ground and I wanted to be on my own and they retaliated when I spoke up. I wasn't allowed the things that would help me be a better person, I had to battle endlessly alone and in the dark and I ran-from everything. It was unbearable. How can you stand being forced into so much with shadows over the things you love and are passionate about?

When I found my way solacing into writing what...what else was there? This was the bliss and escape I'd been searching for, this was everything I'd needed. I kept it so quiet, I never trusted anyone to read anything I'd written so they could shatter it for me.

The End

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