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No one will ever know, the pain I feel inside….



< There’s this girl in the mirror, I wonder who she is. Sometimes I think I know her and sometimes I wish I did.  There is a story in her eyes, lullabies, and goodbye.  When she’s looking back at me I can tell…she’s hurting inside.

< It’s getting colder now and the darkness consumes me.  Depression is slowly creeping up.  Maybe one day you’ll actually care about me.

< Never underestimate the pain of a person because the truth is everyone is struggling.  It’s just some people hide it better than others.

< She smiles with all that she has left, yet tears are left un-dried.   And though she’s got so much to say, she bottles it up inside.  If you look past her broken eyes to a shadow no one sees, a disguise so you won’t recognize, the girl is really me…

< There’s nothing more depressing than having it all and still feeling sad.

< I’m tired of being nice to people who don’t give a shit about me.

< I’m just a fucked up girl living in a fucked up life in a fucked up world.  Welcome to where being me is -*Never Enough*-

< Sometimes the pain’s too strong to bare…and life gets so hard you just don’t care.  You feel so alone you just sit and cry…every second you wish you could die.  Then you start thinking who would care…if one day they woke up-and you weren’t there.

< I could go on with my day and act like everything is okay.  But as my life goes on it hurts more in every way.

< She can’t hide no matter how hard she tries, her secret disguised behind the lies.  And at night she cries away her pride, with eyes shut tight staring at her inside.  All her friends know why she can’t sleep at night, all her family asking is she alright.  All she wants to do is get rid of this hell, well all she’s got to do is stop kiddin herself.  She can only fool herself for so long…

< You’ll just never know…soo many emotions I choose not to show..

< Know what it’s like to want to die.  How it hurts to smile.  How you try to fit in but you can’t.  How you hurt yourself on the outside, to try to kill the pain on the inside.

< I see the blood all over your hands.  Does it make you feel more like a man?  Was it all just a part of your plan?  The pistol’s shaking in my hands…and all i hear is the sound…

< I’ve been weak and I’ve been strong.  I’ve been thru the fire and I’ve been thru the storm.  Try to do right and I know I do wrong.  Just be happy for me when my life is gone.  Cause with no more hurt and no more tears, there will be no more pain and no more fears.  No more people in my face that are not sincere.  So smile for me when I’m no longer here.

< Just because her eyes don’t tear doesn’t mean her heart doesn’t cry.  And just because she comes off strong, doesn’t mean there’s nothing wrong.

< I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.  I don’t know what I wanna see.  My world use to be worth living for, and now it’s hard enough just to be me. 

< I’m not afraid of the gun in my hand, I’m not afraid of dying, I’m just afraid of the pain it will bring, and to see my best friends crying.

< I’m going to smile…and make you think I’m happy…I’m going to laugh…so you don’t see me cry…and even if it kills…I’m going to smile.

< I’m screwing up every little good thing I ever try to do.  I was born to lose.


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!