I would rather be misinformed
If I had to choose between being uninformed or misinformed, I can honestly say I'd rather be misinformed. I know, I know, there are definitely some disadvantages to being misinformed, the most obvious one being it's because someone lied to you.
Discovering this lie could hurt and make you question the person, may even make you think that you did something wrong, but I'd still say that's better than being uninformed. Imagine you hear that your friend is having a party but it was canceled, only to later learn that it wasn't actually canceled, they just didn't want you there.
Now first off, I'd say it's probably time to question how much the person values that friendship, but looking past that, in this scenario you've been lied to. While some may say they prefer not to have known about the party in the first place, I'd prefer to have known and been lied to. This is for one simple reason.
If you've been lied to, that means the person felt the need to come up with an excuse to give you, that they thought about you and considered you when making their plan. It means that at least some part of them will be aware of the fact that they lied while they're enjoying their party, at least some part of them will feel guilty about what they've done.
On the other hand, if the person had not even told you about the party, then that means they didn't even feel the need to consider you, it as though you are a fly, sitting on the wall, staring in at their life, but something that they would swat away if given the chance.
I won't lie, being misinformed would still suck. But being uninformed is worse because while you may not be aware of what's happening, that doesn't change reality. And chances are, at least in scenarios like this, either way, you'll be hurt. But I'd at least want some information than to not be thought of at all.
Because We Met
If I never met you, I wouldn't know what it's like to have some value my opinion. You are the first person to ever hear my words and care about their meaning.
If we never met, I would still believe that love doesn't exist. That it belongs in the romance novels and books that I adore, but not in the real world.
If I never met you, I wouldn't be addicted to your prescence. You have the ability to make me happy in a second, laugh when I'm mad, and feel safe when I'm anxious.
If I never met you, I wouldn't have realized that you can love someone who hurt you. And that sometimes, love can't hold on.
If we never met, I wouldn't've had to say goodbye.
I wouldn't know what it's like to have someone live in your brain. Even when I did everything in my power to forget you, you still remained.
If we never met, I never would have talked to you again after those five long years.
I would have remained stagnant. My life frozen with only the darkness in my mind growing.
Because we met again, I was stirred back to life. Talking to you enabled me to move forward, it's what helped me let go of the past.
Since we met, I have learnt that a disagreement doesn't have to equal war, but rather, it can be a calm discussion, the two of us working towards a solution.
Because we met, I've gotten to know myself better, while also getting to know you.
Because we met, I no longer feel the need to run. I feel safe in your arms.
Because we met, I discovered that even if a love isn't right in the moment, it may be right in the future.
Because we met, I get to call you my boyfriend, my partner.
Now that we have met, I'm happier then I've ever been before. I still have my spouts of darkness, but just by existing you help reel me in.
We respect each others boundries, but are also there for each other. You allow me to speak my mind, and trust me with your thoughts.
You tease me until my heart's about to burst, but can still be serious when the time comes.
Because I met you,
I learnt how to love.
~To my Duck,
~From your Rose
I've never experienced what it's like to drown, not physically
but I imagine it's similar to feeling as though you can't breathe. You try, but each breath sends fire down your lungs, head clouded, unable to hear anything as you fling your limbs around, attempting to grasp onto something, anything that can help keep you afloat.
But yet, there's nothing.
Nothing at all.
And so despite your best efforts, you continue to sink, further and further, but that doesn't stop you from trying. How can you when all rationality has left and the only thing you can feel is the cold, numbing water that contrasts the flames of your body.
And you open your eyes, praying that you can see a light, a way out of this prison of what was once a vision of calm, soothing blue. But at this point you're so far down that you don't know which way's up, which way's down
you try to keep fighting, but you just can't breathe. your muscles become harder to move. and you feel yourself drifting further down. until finally, you just let go.
I've never physically drowned.
My group of friends are talking about some get together thing they're doing over the weekend. This is rather normal as they do one almost every weekend, yet they never ask me to join. At least not anymore. Half the time it's as though I'm not even here.
I get it, I'm not the most interesting of people, but it's kind of ridiculous. I used to be in their group, but I took it for granted. I wished I didn't have to always hang out with people. That they would just leave me be like one would to a stranger. I never knew how much I'd hate it until it actually started to happen. It feels as though I'm not even here half the time. Why doesn't anyone pay attention? If we are friends then why are my words not heard?
I always wished I could be left alone when lots of people wanted to talk to me, yet now that they don't, I'd do anything to have them include me. Anything to no longer feel invisible.
“Drip drop goes the blood splatter everywhere, drop drop on the floor lays the body there” I say in a sing song voice as my beautiful blade makes its last slice into my latest victims body. I slowly drag my lovely blade through their flesh, feeling the jolt of the blade as it cuts through the skin. I love the feeling of the las cut, which I always do ever so slowly so that I can feel each fibre of skin separate, as though cutting stitches. So peaceful.
Once I finish dragging my blade slowly through their skin I look up at the blood covered room with a smile.
The walls of the room, formally painted white, now has a crimson color all over them. The furniture and decor now all over the place. This last victim was a fighter. Gosh, fighters are always the funniest kills. Seeing the defeated look in their eyes as they realize their death is finally near. The poor fools, thinking they can fight off the drug, only to realize that they can't. Seeing the agonizing look in their eyes, pleading to spare them can be quite entertaining.
Taking in a breath from my nose so I could smell the lovely metallic sent of blood I look around once more and see the clock read 6:47 pm. My lovely little friends should be here soon. Let's see if they'll find me or not this time I think gleefully.
With that I grab my knife and run excitedly to the basement, ducking into the crawl space I found while looking through the place. I get comfy and start to wait. How fun this is, no mater what age hide N seek is always fun.
I gently start humming my lovely little tune of death until I hear the front door break down.
The cops are finally here, let's see if I get any new victims today.
The first day means death awaits
"Fight! Fight! Fight!" They chant.
The first day has come, I think while I peer out the door. My friend, Robin, is standing there, quivering in front of Jacob.
Jacob's well known as an ex-mobster here. He's no longer one due to the rampage he went on a few back when he killed everyone in his gang. He now kills someone from our school every year on the same day he'd killed them.
This year he's chosen Robin.
He always claims that if someone speaks out for them then he won't, but everyone’s always to afraid… myself included.
I feel fear start to brew up inside me as I rise from my desk and rush out of the classroom.
Everyone, including the teachers, seem to enjoy these killings, and those who don't enjoy them end up dying. Jacob claps three times and then it goes silent. He puts his hand under Robins chin, jerking Robins face up to his, and then says in his menacing voice, “Will anyone speak up and save this dead mans life?”
A smile creeps on his face as he finishes his question, knowing no one will.
I step forward, opening my mouth to speak, but I can't. My voice is caught in my throat and I'm paralyzed with fear.
Jacob looks around, then swiftly grabs his knife… within minutes Robin is dead.
I collapse to the ground…why didn't I say anything? I could've, but since I didn't Robin is now dead.