Short poem on joy's feeling. if you want it to be a multi chapter review (: i hope you like it. it isnt that good but oh well. :P
I'm going to update soon. (:
I dont own house of Anubis.
Review pleasseee! oooo and follow me on twitter MeIsIzzi08
It is all a blur.
No one likes me anymore.
I'm Just an outcast, a follower, that's what they all say
They act like they like me.
Heck they act like everything is just as it was.
And that Nina, she's perfect.
Perfect smile,
Perfect teeth
Perfect personality
Perfect style
Perfect body
Perfect everything.
And what am I?
What am I to everyone?
"That girl who left for a trimester"
That control freak
That bossy chick
Or just "who?"
But I'm much more than that.
I can turn the study room into a ballroom
I can do gossip columns because I know everything about anyone or anything
I know every single fact there is to know about vampires.
Does anyone care?
No
They care about that pretty blonde bitch, Amber.
Or that perfect brat, Nina.
Or that "so called friend", Patricia.
Or that nerd, Mara.
But me, NOO, no one knows who I am.
"Joy, Who?" they ask.
Even Fabian, my best friend
The one I could tell anything to.
The one person who liked me for me,
And that boy who I gave my heart to.
He doesn't know who I am; he's too worried about Nina and her Gran.
What about me?
Does he notice me crying in a corner?
Does he notice how I've changed?
Does he notice that I lost the glow that I always had?
Does he notice that I'm hurting?
Does he know that it pains me to smile?
Does he know there really isn't any reason for me to live?
Does he notice anything?
If he did then he would have broken up with Nina, he would've had gone to me asking me if I'm alright.
Instead I'm sitting in the stalls or the corner everyday crying and crying until I can't cry anymore.
Instead I'm sitting alone numb, emotionless,
Everything that made me, me, gone.
But I guess that is how life is.
Sometimes people get whatever they desire: fame, fortune, perfection, love.
But there are those people who try desperately to be happy, but everything they do just makes their lives worse.
I'm that kind of person.
Every day starts out with one teardrop.
One after the other,
Until I'm just a worthless heap in the ground.
The only sign of my existence is my chest heaving up and down and the sobs escaping from my mouth.
They used to care.
They used to always ask, "Oh Joy, why are you crying?"
But I didn't say a word and they lost interest.
They didn't care.
I'm probably rambling on and on about myself.
You probably don't care.
Nobody does.
Thank you for making my life miserable,
Thank you for making it all just a blur.
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