The dictionary definition of style is ‘the mode of expressing thought in language, whether oral or written’. In writing, style is essentially how you express your thoughts and ideas in words on paper. The style of a literary work is an important part of how effectively the author conveys their message in an understandable manner. How capable the author is determines whether their work will be compelling. If you do not understand what a literary work is trying to say it is not going to influence you to do anything or to change how you think about a subject. My writing style is most influenced by my personality and character. I am a very honest, factual, orderly and straightforward person. I say what is needed to be said, regardless, sometimes, of the consequence. I am also not easily swayed by other people’s opinions. As a result, my writing style is equally direct. There is not much to my writing style besides the literal meaning.


Copyright, Alex

Why do I have to live? Why can’t I just be gone? God why do I live for pain? Why do I long for death? Why am I jealous of those who are already dead? God I hate life! God the pain! I long for death so much more than anything in this world. I search for it more than hidden treasure. I long for the day that I am gone that there is no more pain, no more life, no more breath in me. Why do you torture me god with life? Why was I born for this? Why won’t you give me my greatest wish why can’t I just be gone?


Copyright, Alex

Why do I still care? Why do I still feel for you? Why do I cry over you? Why can’t you just get out of my thoughts, my memories, and my heart? Why can’t I forget what we had? Why can’t I forget you? Why can’t I stop thinking and dreaming about you? Why won’t you stop hurting me? Why can’t you see what you have done to me? Why can’t you see my pain? Why don’t you care? Why did you desert me? Where did you go? When did you stop caring for me? When did you start hating me? Why you? Why do I waste my time, my thoughts, my energy, and my tears over you? Why won’t the pain stop? Why can’t I forget about you? Why won’t you leave my memories? Why do I cry over you every day? Why won’t it go away? Why won’t you stop tearing me apart inside? Why do you cause me so much pain? God why does it hurt so much? Why can’t I live? Why can’t I feel? Why can’t I live? Why is my heart ripped apart everyday? Why can’t I heal? Why can’t I let you go?

An Apology

Copyright, Alex

An apology won’t help here it will not change what I did what I said how you feel. I do not know what I am looking for but I know I did not want this I did not want to be part of the problem. There is nothing I can do or say that can change anything. You have the right to hate me. I’m not looking for sympathy, not looking for you to care, not looking for you to still be my friend. Life just sucks, I know this wont help but for what it’s worth, sorry for being part of the problem.

Where are You?

Copyright, Alex

Have you ever wondered why evil prospers and good always seems to diminish. I meet less and less people who live for god, whose main purpose in life is to please and follow god. And those who I see following god those few honorable people, I do not see the blessing, I do not see the love, I do not see the mercy of the father with them. I see pain, I see suffering, and I see misery. I do not see his power; I do not see his protection. Where is our high tower and deliverer? But in contrast I do not see those who love nor honor god prosper. I see their blessings and wonder where god is. What about the promise that if we follow god, if we obey his commands and honor him, we will prosper and those who are disobedient will be destroyed? Can god not see his people suffering can he not see are pain? For I have searched intently and yet cannot find him where has he gone?

Wrong Choices

Copyright, Alex

Wrong choices, is that what you are? What do I want to do with my life? Is it you? No! You are not what I want for my life. I do not want you in my life. But yet I choose you over what I want, over everything I desire, every time. You are a curse to me. I want you to leave, yet I cannot let go I cannot stop. You have consumed me. You have me where you want, on my knees, eating from your hands, eating your horrible poison. Causing a corruption in my mind; in my desires; in my passions; in my heart. I can no longer do what I long for, what I desire, to follow, to serve to live for my lord, my god, Jesus. But what I do is what I hate to do, what you want me to do. And I cannot stop. I hate you leave me alone! I can see you laughing in my face. I feel you kick me down when I get up. Wrong choices, is that what you are?


Copyright, Alex

Why is it that I am always the most alone when I am around people? Stuck in this coffin of mine unable to get out unable to express how I feel. Dying inside for no one to see. Unable to cry out unable to show the feelings in my heart. The pain indescribable, no words no emotions no actions can let them out. I am the most alone around people and I can’t let it out.

What Is?

Copyright, Alex

What is love to me? What is happiness to me? What is pain to me? What is sadness to me? What is dying to me? What is living to me? What are friends to me? What are enemies to me? What I am I to me? Surely love is something you can not let go of. Something you go back to even after you change. Surely that are the things you love, the things you can not let go of. And happiness should be the feeling you get from doing these things you can not let go of. The things you go back to, those feelings are surely happiness. Pain should be the feelings you feel when you are away from the things that make you happy, from the things you can not let go of. Sadness is surely also this feeling. From this living must be doing these things that I can not stop that I can not get away from. Dying must be not doing these things, hiding from these things running from these things. That must be dying. Friends must be those who see and feel you, those who know you, where you do not have to say anything and they know how you feel, who you are. Friends are those who you have a connection with. Then from this enemies must be the opposite, they are the people who do not know you who do not have a connection who do not feel you. So then I am surely all these things feelings together I am these things because if I was not who am I then? But I am not connected to myself I do not know myself. So does that make me my own enemy? And I cannot and will not let go of my pain my sorrows, I cannot stop the cutting, the ripping the physical and mental pain. So does not that mean that is what I truly love what and who I truly am? Does not that mean I am pain? I am sorrows? For this is what I truly am.


Copyright, Alex

Everyday it gets harder to live, harder to breathe, harder to hear, see, and feel everything. It is impossible to describe how I feel inside. No words can express this pain I feel. No explanation can show how I feel can show the pain can describe to you how I feel can even describe to me how I feel. The only thing that can describe my pain is pain; the feeling of physical pain for a short time in exchange for the torment of my internal pain. It pains me worse that no one sees this pain or cares or that no one wants to believe it is real. That every one expects me to be the same person as I was before this, before the pain. I am a product of the world s wrath; a tormented soul. I can not express my pain in words so I must express it in a different way; the cutting and bleeding of my body. I made a promise to stop this but I cannot stop it will never stop it. Nature has made me this way, I am who I have become; I have to play my part in nature, play my part in the game in the tournament of life. Every time I cut from the pain it must be deeper and harder than the time before, to show the increase in pain to show my pain. And who have I become; a product of nature a product of wrath of pure nature. A tormented soul.


Copyright, Alex

I am never grateful never thankful for anything, nothing changes my mind my heart these feelings these thoughts. I think I have defeated them but then they come on me again, over and over again. I am afraid I will never be satisfied with anything in my life; nothing to enlighten my eyes. I will just turn out to be an embittered soul. As I fight myself everyday, I ask myself: when will this end? what will satisfy my soul? For I am thirsty; thirsty for life; for something to satisfy.

No One Sees No One Knows

Copyright, Alex

No one sees, no one knows. Self hate drives the pain that I cannot show that I cannot express. Everyday swirling farther and farther down the whirlpool of despair. No way out. No way to release the pain inside; cuts in replace for screams, blood in replace for tears. Read my body for the screams. The actions become more natural as the abuse goes on, changing my desires and passions. Soon enough it is all I want to do, even through the smiles and laughs. No one sees, no one knows.

One by One

Copyright, Alex

One by one, they drop like flies,
My oasis of friendship slowly dries,
My links to life are running low,
And soon I know not where I’ll go,

One by one I free my fears,
The red runs down like ravaged tears,
Releasing me from past and pain,
My tears crash down as long expected rain.

Fire with Fire

Copyright, Alex

The pain attacks me swiftly as the sun says its goodbye,
It smothers me and swallows me as in my bed I lie,
My only dose of peacefulness lost in the tears I cry,
And if they weren’t already dead, my heart and soul would die,

And so I stumble through the dark into a dreadful room,
Where even still the stenches of the pains inside me loom,
I stop the pain from finishing me off unto my doom,

By fighting fire with fire.


Copyright, Alex

If life is a race then I’m losing,
And if life is a choice then I’m choosing,
If life is a game I concede,
And if life is a prison,

Soon I’ll be freed.

What Kind of Friendship was That?

Copyright, Alex

Everyone thought we were a couple,
For we always hung out together.
We thought it kinda funny,
Because we both had the same name.
You were Alex and so was I.
One time we had a fight,
and you told me you cared about me.
My heart filled with joy,
because no one had ever told me this before.
You told me that day after day,
for about about a month.
Then sadly, you stopped.
I know I had problems.
You always got mad at me,
because I cut myself,
and I hurt myself.
You told me to stop,
and that you hated it when I did it.
I did stop.
Then one day you told me,
you didn’t care what I did.
You told me that you didn’t care about me!
After that I started doing it more and more.
When I stopped eating you told me that it was bad for me.
You always checked to see what I had ate.
You said it was bad to be anerexic.
We fought all the time.
Now, I’m graduating from Oakland(a boarding school),
and you’re not.
I probably won’t ever see you again,
and you’ll never know that I thought of you as a best friend.
Even though, you told me that you didn’t care,
I know you did.
I know, because of all the long talks we had about nothing at all.
I know, because of the fact that you didn’t like it when I hurt myself.
I know, becasue you were protective of me,
when guys wanted to hang out with me.
You even got mad when I would wear there clothes or jewlery.
What kind of friendship was that?
I dunno, but I was sure glad I had it…


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