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Literature Text
You are reverting backwards
to the drugs and one night stands
of your youth.
I'm moving forward
trying to make my way through school
maybe this should be a sign
that it never would have worked
it makes me sad
and shed a tear
on the textbook pages
to see you falling backwards
when I tried so hard to pull you forward
when you pop those pills
do you see me in your hallucinations?
are you drowning yourself in smoke to forget
the way I devour the pages to forget
to the drugs and one night stands
of your youth.
I'm moving forward
trying to make my way through school
maybe this should be a sign
that it never would have worked
it makes me sad
and shed a tear
on the textbook pages
to see you falling backwards
when I tried so hard to pull you forward
when you pop those pills
do you see me in your hallucinations?
are you drowning yourself in smoke to forget
the way I devour the pages to forget
Literature
OCD
One, two, three, four,
She counted as she slowly walked down the long hallway. The bright white walls seemed to scream at her as she watched her shadow pace itself with her. The building was cold, and she had a slight case of goose bumps. The floor tiles had a checkered pattern of green and white. She made it very clear that she was only able to step on the green ones, as not to be consumed by the white.
Five, six, seven, eight,
She turned the corner and a plainly sanitized odor over took her. She coughed slightly allowing the burning in her nose to subside before she moved forward. The green tiles had disappeared now, but have been replac
Literature
OCD
When you wake up, the first thing on your mind is the one thing you don't want there. You got rid of it last night, now it's back. You ignore it, weary, drag yourself out of bed.
You check your e-mail. Again.
Again.
Again.
There's still nothing there. You bite your lip, blink, and turn off the computer.
There's no food in the refrigerator. You go back to the other room. Press the power button on the computer.
Check your e-mail again.
You sigh, turn the computer off again.
Your friend hasn't ca
Literature
nervosa.
She was born
Like any other baby girl;
With brown sugar eyes, and
Silk spun locks of sunflower curls
Five fingers on each hand,
Two strong legs to stand tall upon,
And a loving heart several sizes too big
For her frame of brittle bones
But Adulthood crashed down,
Too soon: a pand
Suggested Collections
psych major
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