SometimesSometimes,Sometimes by ~mictionary
People mistake me for who I'm not...
they don't see me in me.
I'm treated like I should know everything...
when I don't.
Expectations of me are incredibly high...
and they say it should be easy for me.
I just want to take a step back from the world,
To hide away and let life carry on,
To let people realise that they do care,
To know that just for once, when I return...
I can be me.
Another Fish in the SeaI saw you with her one day on the field at lunch. You two were hugging. And you looked as though you were happy. In love maybe, even at our young age. And I watched from afar, the envy boiling up inside me.Another Fish in the Sea by ~mictionary
The other day, you told me things weren't going as well as you'd originally hoped. You might not be going out with her anymore. I hate to say it, but I was relieved. You'd begun to hang out with me, joke around, play games.
Somebody walked by our desks. He grinned at you and I could swear you grinned right back at him. It was your friend. He thought you were flirting with me, just because we were playing childish games with animal-shaped erasers. I didn't care. Our hands almost touched.
I was nearly reduced to holding your hand under the desk, away from prying eyes, had you not been uncertain about your relationship with that girl. But I was afraid you'd laugh at me, and stop being my friend.
So I suppose my point is that I do like you, really. I have for a long time, only you
To Turn Back a ClockHer eyes are forever trying to find mine, but I find myself looking away purposely. It's as if we share a connection, jokes, even, but we don't. We never will. And they're just memories anyway. Stuff in the past that I'll never forget.To Turn Back a Clock by ~mictionary
My mind wanders back to that day, twelve weeks ago.
"Can you tell me what class I'm in?"
"No, you'll find out soon enough."
We watch her walk away. No doubt she's smiling, but I think all my chances of returning to her class are slowly slipping away. But the time we're seated on the cold wooden floor, they'll have reduced to nothing.
As as the principal's calling names, I descend into a thought-filled madness state, locked away in my brain.
I won't be in that class again. No chance. But what if I'm in 1, or 8? Okay, so 6 isn't too bad, but weigh that against 5.
See, Room 5 was my old class. Schoolwise, Room 5 was ... home.
"Room One," the princ