it’s the quiet, brave decision to stop shrinking, stop apologising for your needs, and stop abandoning yourself just to keep others comfortable. It’s recognising that your peace matters, your boundaries deserve respect, and your life is not meant to be lived on pause for someone else’s approval. Choosing yourself is the moment you turn inward with honesty and say, I am worth protecting, even if it means walking away.

Every time I open Google or scroll through social media, I see ads for “Write My Essay for Me” services. Part of me laughs at how aggressive the marketing is, but another part of me — the part that’s currently drowning in deadlines — is genuinely curious. I’ve got essays stacked up for different classes, a part-time job that eats away at my study hours, and the stress is starting to catch up with me.

I know the risks. Professors warn us all the time about plagiarism, shady websites, and academic dishonesty. But still, when you’re staring at a blank screen at 2 a.m. with a due date less than 24 hours away, it’s hard not to wonder if these services are as useful as they claim. Are they giving out solid drafts that students can actually build on, or is it more like generic fluff that gets recycled for everyone?

I’m not looking for shortcuts to cheat my way through — but I am curious about whether anyone’s had good or bad experiences with these companies. Do they really save time and sanity, or do they create more problems in the long run? Would you ever trust a “Write My Essay for Me” service, or is it better to push through and figure it out on your own?

Okay, I’m officially drowning. Between work shifts, midterms, and everything else going on, I genuinely don’t have the time or brainpower to finish this term paper. It’s due soon and I’m stuck at the "open Google Docs and stare at the screen" phase.

I’ve been searching around for someone to write my term paper, but it’s honestly hard to know who’s legit and who’s just going to send me a random wall of text that doesn’t even follow the prompt.

What I really need is someone who’s solid with research, can follow instructions, and doesn’t just ghost halfway through. Oh, and please—no generic AI content that gets flagged or sounds like a robot wrote it.

If anyone’s used a service they actually trust (or even one to avoid), I’d seriously appreciate the help. Just trying to survive the semester here.

I don’t ask for promises, just you with me, right here. Words pause at my lips, even my voice lowers when you’re near.

I pass your street like I’m fine, eyes down, pace slow. A borrowed smile on my face, heart moving toward where I don’t go.

For you, I do a little madness, things I swore I never would. Don’t read my patience as a promise, don’t turn my waiting into good.

I also do quiet things, no games, no disguise. If waiting has a language, it sounds like your name in my mind.

I walk past you, but I stay there, nights know, my girl, what I don’t say. The moon stands witness, the stars aware, your thought doesn’t fade away. ❤️

I didn’t fall in love, it seems… I just never walked away.

Alcohol and cigarettes

Weed and booze

None of it compares to you

The heroin sweats

The shakes

Insomnia

Mind waiting for a drag of a cigerette

A puff of weed you threw away

None of it

None of them

Are as hard as quitting you

Losing you

Blocked every where

I kept trying to sober up but everytime I came back you

Now my chest fills with an empty void

A clenching pain across my left arm and chest

An inferno of darkness, searing out my soul

Unlike the weed, the cigarette, now I have no choice but to quit you

I cant replace it with anything but madness

With a gate locked tight

Funny thing if I could quit them for you I would

Except I didn't.... fuck

Never wrote poetry before, not sure if it even is poetry. Just had some thoughts to get out.

Sneaky pedophile

You come at night

Into her bedroom you're afraid of the light

Sister sees you and stops you in your tracks

Threatens to kill you with a big knife

Sneaky pedophile never touches her again

Goes on a mission to the world's end

Finds a woman smitten with him

Comes home from his mission with a new bride

Many years pass by his bride finds out

Loses her shit they have four little girls

Holy fuck what to do!

Sneaky pedophile

Cries he was just 17

That was a lie he was 18 years old when sister caught him

He had been raping little girl for four years

Somehow bride forgives him

But forgiveness was not hers to give

Now his bride starts to demonize little girl grown up

Tells dinner time stories how this child is a slut

Twenty years pass

Little girl grown up

Gets a call from the bride

The man she calls husband has been hospitalized

He has gone insane and confessed all his crimes

She begs little girl grown up to not press charges

You see the statute of limitations for this crime now never ends

Little girl grown up can not live with this shame

It brings up revulsion humiliation and pain

Detective calls little girl grown up

Tells her what sneaky pedophile has said and done

Asks do you want to press charges against this pedophile

Just say the word we will take it to trial

Little girl grown up tells detective ask him

He has confessed to his crimes leave me out of this

Detective says if that's what you want me to do

I will ask him

Little girl grown up says no just drop it

Neither confirm or deny this crime I will

She hangs up the phone with tears in her eyes

She cannot relive it again she cries

they say every quiet soul carries a mind heavy with words, spiraling deeper than hell’s own depths. Perhaps it's true, though I see many shades of it.

I think the loud ones speak to outrun their own thoughts, afraid of the silence that roars louder than their voices ever could. The chaos of their words is a shield, a trembling armor against the terror of introspection.

and the one who jokes by the food table, laughter spilling like wine. They may fear the very thing they jest about. Hidden behind humor, they stand before their quiet dread, hoping no one sees.

I think the one who works tirelessly, chasing perfection, is forever haunted by a standard too high to touch, built by their own hands, towering and impossible. Their victories feel hollow, their efforts never enough, because they measure themselves against dreams carved in unrelenting stone.

I think the one who shrugs at school, who claims they don’t care, has already lost count of the times they tried, only to stumble, only to fall. They’ve learned that failure stings less when you stop reaching, so they bury the wanting deep, where no one can see.

I think we all carry hidden stories. Chapters written in silence, pressed between the pages of our lives. Some are secrets we protect like treasures, others are wounds we hope someone, anyone, might uncover.

I think some of us dream of being noticed, of having our unspoken words read aloud by someone who understands. But I also think some of us fear it just as much. Because to be seen means to be vulnerable, and sometimes, we’d rather let the world believe we’re fine, so they’ll let us keep going. Keep pretending. Keep surviving.

(Not exactly sad but it will do)

She guessed my favorite color right away, Though I’d never thought of it until that day. She grinned and shouted, “Red! Like my lips!” The world tilted softly, my heart did flips.

Her laughter spilled warm, a river unplanned, It brushed through my soul like a gentle hand. Her smile, so tender, so achingly real, I swear I could see her inner child heal.

She held me from laughter, then closer for heat, Her heartbeat in rhythm, our closeness complete. The night air grew cooler, her cheek brushed my cheek, And for just a moment, the whole world felt meek.

She lingered a breath, her gaze catching mine, A glimmer of mischief, a playful design. Then softly she teased, her tone warm and slow, “You know I look better in your oversized black hoodie than red, you know.”

The streetlamps flickered gold in the night, I smiled and answered with quiet delight, “Yes, gorgeous,” I said, my voice soft and slow, “It’s seeing you at ease that makes my heart glow.”

Red was the blush that bloomed on her cheek, Red was the secret I’d never dare speak. It burned through my veins, it lit up my chest, It told me, “Here is where your heart will rest.”

Her hand in mine was a truth I could keep, Through daylight’s bright hours and into our sleep. Her warmth wrapped around me, a velvet thread, Binding my soul in the color she said.

And now every crimson I ever have seen Is more than a pigment, more than a sheen. It’s her laughter, her breath, the light in her name, And every red calls out her flame.

You stepped inside, and something changed, the night grew warmer in its hue. Your laughter spilled across my chest, and every mile belonged to you.

You claimed the music as your throne, each chorus bent beneath your reign. I let the world dissolve away, and only your voice would remain.

Your playlist danced in bright parade, spinning colors through the dark. And even songs I’d sworn to hate now carried traces of your spark.

You swayed as if the night was yours, your joy a lantern in the cold. I never knew the road could glow until your hand found mine to hold.

I memorized your secret signs, the way your fingertips would play upon the door, against the beat, while singing dreams the night could stay.

Now silence hums where you once sat, yet still I play your setlist through. The notes are stained with how it felt when every word was meant for you.

I drive the roads we used to know, pretending you are still in sight. Each song becomes a fragile thread that pulls you closer through the night.

And when the chorus rises up, your presence blooms in sudden hue, as if the music still believes I’m not alone, but here with you.

Walking, slowly, surely softly

Every step with difficulty

One more breath

One more day

Back in bed to sleep away...

Moving forward hardly walking

Every day with difficulty One more face

Another gesture

Fake another try at pleasure

Day by day I stay awake

Your time to talk not mine to take

I'll keep it in

And weigh me down

So much weight I'll surely drown

Stopping, dropping, can't keep walking

Another step leaves people gawking

I can't go on

It's now November

Goodbye my dear, hope you remember.

Was she ever real?

Starting to lose my mind, lose my soul Miss you every second I’m alive, restless you know?

Damning every second I’m alive, tireless mind harshned bones

Starting to give up, even though we said well never do

Starting to give up, feels like was she ever real? God please tell me, was she ever real?

God please save me, getting tired over here

Don’t forsake me, save me or take me

Starting to grey up in here. Thought of us doing it together. Though it’s never gonna happen

Life was never easy will it ever be?

I love you.

Every bad moment is devoured by the good.

I love you.

All the pain you left on my plate is what I would politely eat.

I love you.

All of the pain can be a rough patch in the pathway of peace for us to achieve.

I love you.

Digital gazes were designed for our gentle gazes.

I love you.

Slept together, thanks to technology, because if we can't be together psychically, we can do it digitally.

I love you.

All the hate is what I can't take.

I love you.

Forget the hate and let it eat cake.

I love you.

I wanted closure but please come closer.

I love you.

People speak but not a sound can silence our spoken love.

I love you.

People plead for me to find a new man to call prince charming.

Without you, who could I ever find charming?

I could never let the word prince slip from my lips if it's not for you.

I love you.

You're my one and only, without you, I'm lonely.

I love you.

I blacked out, acted out, but I can't get you out.

I love you.

I crave all of you, even the careless.

I love you.

I want you, even when you're the cruelest.

I love you.

Lovely moments on replay.

I love you.

I love all that you have.

I love you.

Your laugh.

I love you.

Your smile that left my heart beating softly.

I love you.

Your passion is pretty, especially for history.

Which is why I can't let us be history.

I love you.

Our love isn't black and white like the television you adore.

It's vivid with color, it's a work of art that I admire.

Don't adore the lack of color, adore the plethora that we have to offer.

I love you.

You're traditional, not conditional.

Our love could be unconditional.

I love you.

My love is a deep desire drowned by devotion.

I love you.

Please, come crawling back to me.

I love you.

Don't let us become none.

I love you.

I love you a ton.

Oh please, even if it's out of pity, please come crawling back to me.

I love you.

Please, don't leave me at the graveyard as I grieve over our love story.

I love you.

Please, just once, let me have my happy ending.

I love you.

You used to call me princess so this princess is pleading for our fairytale to not become a grim tale.

I love you.

My mind is loud louder than your laughter,
louder than the world spinning on without me.
I want to scream,
so loud that the earth cracks,
so loud that someone hears, really hears.

I want them to feel it,
the weight in my chest,
the storm in my head,
the ache in my hands
that keep giving, giving, giving.

I just want to sit,
to sink into the quiet,
to let the tears fall
without questions,
without judgment.

I just want a hug,
arms wrapped tight,
a voice whispering,
«You’re okay.» «You’re pretty.» «You’re doing all right.» «I’m proud of you.»

But when?
When does it happen for me?

I hear them; friends trading compliments like gifts,
lifting each other with soft words.
And I give, and I give, and I give. Five, ten, a hundred a day.

But why?
Why can’t I catch even one?