Nobody knows the real me. Nobody knows how many times I’ve sat in my room and cried, how many times I’ve lost hope, how many times I’ve been let down. Nobody knows how many times I’ve had to hold back the tears, h
Do you see God ?
Teacher: Do you see God?
Student: No teacher
Teacher: Can you touch God?
Student: No teacher
Teacher: Then maybe there’s no God.
Student: Teacher do you see your brain?
Teacher: No
Student: Can you touch your brain?
Teacher: No
Student: Then maybe you have no brain …
ow many times I’ve felt like I’m about to snap but don’t just for the sake of others. Nobody knows the thoughts that go through my head whenever I’m sad, how horrible they truly are. Nobody knows me, and that’s what I hate the most.
When I graduate, I will sneak into all my teachers’ bedrooms and do this:
All of my friends live near each other.
For them, it’s like, “Hey bro, wanna come over?” “Aight bro, lemme just cross the street.”
For me, it’s like, “Hey bro, wanna come over?” “Aight bro, lemme just cross the bridge to Terabithia, take the shortcut through Narnia, take the detour around District 12, and stop by Hogwarts to get groceries.”
That awkward moment when you get in the van and there’s no candy.
People that follow you but NEVER talk to you.
When you were little and you missed the ice cream van
