strawberrids' collection

  What’s love to you? To me, it’s a feeling of comfort, and support…something that heals me whenever there’s a problem. Something that gives reason for the hatred there once burdened my heart to leave. …overtime though, love became something else. It was a solution for validation, feeling less lonely, and just feelings of convenience.  There was a guy I liked, and I realized the longer that I ‘liked’ him, the longer he stayed as a convenience in my mind. You see, the more time passed, I wasn’t able to differentiate whether it was ‘love’ or just something I clung onto. Telling people that this guy is my crush, this is the guy I liked for a long time – gave me a sense of pride. He wasn’t brag-able, he did nothing that could give me the power to show off. He wasn’t special, a normal boy who was extremely smart and had a common name. But to me, he was someone I couldn’t let go, someone who I could use as proof for ‘loyalty’ or to hold onto my competitive side, ‘I liked someone lon...

  I’d see her from time to time. Each time she looked at me, she would so desperately cry for help, not by sound, but by her eye language. Engraved in my mind was the freshly cut shoulder length, dyed with a brown that faded into a lighter gradient. Her eyes were big, but not in a way that showed that she was shocked, but enough to show her admiration for everything. Her smile connects with the dimples at the side of her face to show that every expression will perfectly piece up, like a puzzle to show what she wants to express. But beneath those very eyes, her bags weigh, dragging the once-tight skin down with them. Each time I see her, she gets more and more expressionless, losing what was her face’s impression. Surrounding the edge, the corner, and the bottom of her eyes, little droplets of water form but are not big enough to roll down her cheeks. Her face tells a story, though.  The dried-up tears that lay horrified, and her soulless eyes that seek dreams that are too far...