KrystaAnneBrandt

Miniature raindrops descend from my eyes. Wetting the dark circles that are tattooed onto my skin. Am I alone? I wouldn't know, Shut everyone out, No one can be trusted. You'll laugh at me, But I won't hear you. I'll just see your mouths wide open, tauntingly. Block out all noise. All insults. All threats. Everything. Don't breathe. You'll choke on your breath. Don't speak. No one will listen anyways, Or care. Don't feel. The emptiness will eat at you. It's like a mosquito buzzing in your ear. Like an ant bite. Annoying. That's what emotions are. Don't sleep. It'll waste your time. Horrid images will haunt you. Don't eat

Despair, Hiding in a closet. Desolation, Peeking through the cracks. Forlorn, A solitary light. Gloom, Streaming through the bottom of the door. Hollow, Emptier than a drunkard's bottle Heart-sickness, A weak throbbing essence. Heartache, Too tired to move. Anguish, A blackened muscle. Longing, For the love of my dearest. Lonely, Wedged in a corner. Solitary, Shrouded in a thick coat of darkness. Pathetic, Vigorous sobs racking through the figure. Insignificant, Against the wants of others. Invisible, In a crowd of opinions. Terrified, To even mutter a single syllable.

(Author note: The phobia definitions are in the description along with a request to send me a message if you want the link to my website :) ) Phobias. They make me who I am. I have a total of eighteen. Eighteen phobias swarm my being. Eighteen. What a beautifully frightening number. Demophobia. The crowds Move around me like the sea. Schools of fish, Gossiping, Criticizing, Laughing. Are they talking about me? Are they criticizing my posture? How I talk? Or about how I walk? Are they laughing at how alone I am? Kakkorhapiaphobia. I fail. At everything that I do. I try to be like you. How my mother wants me to be. A clone of society. I trul

Insecure, And alone. It's only me, And my tears, In a dark room. My self-hatred grows, Like a tumor inside my head. A never ending cancer A deadly disease. Dull, brown eyes Dry, wavy, untameable hair Freckles and acne A witch nose "British", buck teeth Butt chin Pudge Small breasts Fat thighs Love handles Short legs weird ankles Shaky hands Whiney, nasally voice Pencil neck. All of these qualities Make up me. You probably are thinking That I'm going to say a positive thing now. Here's the twist... There is absolutely, Surely, Nothing good about me. When I laugh, It comes out as two things: One, a cackle, Two, a short bark. When I smile, It sc

Ache. That's all there is. Is ache. Dark circles decorate the bottom of her dull, brown eyes. A hunched figure over a desk, She claims she's tired, But what the world doesn't know, Is that those excuses are lies. She feels like she's slowly dying, As if her life is slowly eroding away. "How are you today?" That question always is like a train running over her. "I'm fine. Just tired." She lies. Lies. They consume her thought. Nightmares. They eat at her sleep. Empty. She tells herself that she's too young. Too young to know "true pain". Too young to think that she's depressed. Bipolar. Or plain sleep deprived. Maybe Psychopat