Lyrics To The Song 'Immobility'

It felt a little like I was back outside again, my lava tears streaking down my cheeks, making my tear ducts sting. The room closed in on me and my eyes scanned the space from left to right, spinning and dancing across my mother’s concerned look. I can’t say I was angry, that I felt some predictable rage or crippling sadness. I just felt numb, untouched and untouchable. It was as if I was floating in the air, accompanied by the words my father just spoke, chasing each other around in some chaotic tornado, and yet everything around me was still. There was no feeling really, just reaching and grasping for something to be different, failing to comprehend.

It’s a struggle to get out of bed sometimes, I often just sit there struggling to comprehend the sequence of events which have taken place over the past year. I mean, I’m used to this now, its normal to me, but the fact that this has happened and that I am now ‘disabled’ as people would put it is hard to get my head around. And every time I look down I’m reminded of the pain and the struggle I faced, it’s a physical scar which links me to my grueling past, a physical and emotional journey.

When you’re asleep, the pain stops. There are no thoughts or ideas that run through your brain, you are emotionless. I wish I could feel like that now, all the thoughts start to get to you’re head. At times I wish that I could end it, just to stop the pain. But I need to stay alive, to make sure they’re all okay. Afterwards, I can do as I like but right now, they are my main priority. I can't lose them, they are my one and only family. If they’re gone, then i'm nobody. I just need to go, the longer I wait the more I put myself at risk. Even though I hate myself for what i’ve done, I still need to stay

I hold the paper in my hands. It’s crumpling under my grip, but in it I get to live in the footsteps of others. My old dress is wrinkled and torn much like the paper, but I can’t spare the money on a new one. As much as I try to focus on the crinkled piece of paper with scrawly handwriting, I can’t. I just can’t. Tears run down my face and I wipe them away. It has been awhile since I have cried, so long in fact that I was afraid that there was something wrong with me. I push myself up from the old oak I sit at the base of. There’s no use in dwelling in what I can’t change. I fold the paper back in my dress pocket and walk into the field. I used to think there was beauty in the way that the grass grows in the street; standing low next to the

Someone is touching my face, slowly running long fingers through my hair and down the side of my sore face. It’s what causes me to stir and gradually wake up in an aching body I wish I didn’t own. I groan, rolling my face away from the hand. The word, angel, continues to be softly repeated over and over again, but there’s something mocking, almost angry, in the voice.

I felt strong hands grab my arms. Hands covered in thick gloves. My throat went dry, and my muscles tensed. “No.” I whispered, being lifted off of my chair and onto my feet. The word feels ripped from my chest, unhuman. Like it’s not even mine.

despair and remorse pressed on my heart, which nothing could removed… I wandered like an evil spirit,

“...I feel like I could disappear. I feel like I am breaking.” (Knowles, 166) This quote is from a book that impacted my life, and the way i see things. “See You at Harry’s” is a book about a young girl named Fern. Fern leads a somewhat normal life, she has two brothers and an older sister, but when disaster strikes she feels like it’s all her fault. This story taught me two valuable lessons. One, bad things happen and it’s no one's fault, and two, everyone is different and that’s okay.

I don’t want to go back there! It’s full of phonies!” then I stormed upstairs into the attic. I felt so depressed, I just want to talk to Phoebe. There were a lot of things that I left in the attic before I was sent to boarding school so I figured that I’d go through it. I opened the boxes to find, papers, clothes, magazines, and Allie’s baseball mitt. The mitt was still the same color brown but in the inside, the poems that Allie wrote were starting to fade. The words on the inside were barely there anymore all that was left were a few letters here and there. I couldn’t remember any of the poems. I just started to cry and scream out loud out of nowhere and I could not stop. I felt like my insides were being ripped out of me. My body was numb when Phoebe came home and heard me upstairs. I don’t want her to see me like

Rejection. Hate. Unworthiness. That’s how I felt when the car slowly eased out of the driveway, leaving me behind. From my childhood, my stepmother, Thula, loathed me and treated me like an unneeded burden. She blamed me for her misfortunes and screamed at me whenever she faced problems. When I was only fifteen years old, her hatred towards me erupted and my family abandoned me to live by myself in a broken, unfinished farm. I couldn’t believe that my own father, who I have always looked up to, would so suddenly leave me. Due to his absence, I

I was sat on the marble floor of our house next to a big pile of glass that used to be an ornate vase, hoping that my mom hadn't heard the crash. But judging by the sound of quick clacking coming closer every second, I was fresh out of luck. “ALICIA MANON JANE WHAT DID YOU DO?” Her bright blue stilettos that she wore all the time” because they were a ladies shoe” blocked my vision. I looked up and saw the rage that marred her usually gorgeous face. “You’re so useless I swear, ‘m not sure why god decided to curse me with such a burden lIke you” Even at my young age, I could probably recite this speech by heart. I was always “useless” or “good for nothing” sometimes, I even got the occasional“I hate you and I wish that I never had you”, but those were reserved for specIal occasions when no one else is around. She harshly grabbed my arms and forcIbly pulled me up from my position on the floor, I remember feeling her long blood red nails dig into my flesh. She led me upstairs to my room and before she locked me In my room yelled, “ Maybe In here you’ll learn how not to be such a burden to

A calm life is a boring waste of time, and one that eventually grows tiring. Helen Keller once said that “Life is a daring adventure or nothing,” meaning that people who don’t have any excitement or adventure in their lives are empty shells who are looking for something to drive them. Three fictional examples of such empty souls are Regina Mills from “Once Upon a Time,” Bilbo Baggins from “The Hobbit” and “Lord of the Rings” series, and Madoka Kaname from “Puella Magi Madoka Magica.”

I have no idea how I’m going to end this song yet. I’m just gonna put my head down for a sec and think.

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