And god, oh god. I swear, everytime he rests his hand on my lap then gently squeezes it whenever he’s driving - or even when he just rubs it - the insides of my body just screams of joy, I can’t even begin to fathom it.
“he did not wear his scarlet coat, for blood and wine are red, and blood and wine were on his hands, when they found him with the dead.”— oscar wilde, the ballad of reading gaol
your fingers tapping on my knee feels like the throat-catching burn of stolen whiskey –
barely two sips, taken from a heavy bottle in the dark one evening,
a secret delight in the quiet of my room.
I feel your hand in mine and wonder-
What god could ever condemn this?
And if you must go, fine. But please be kind on your way out and tell me why. Tell me what drove you away. Cause if I have to go on without you, I just need to know what I did.
Letters to you.
“I have grown tired of begging for your attention. Exhausted in keeping conversations alive while you couldn’t have cared less. I have lost sleep and lost enough. I can’t keep walking on a ledge for someone who is just going to push me off.”— wordsbymp
And this is exactly why I don’t like to get close to people. I hate opening myself up to people who are just going to leave, I hate picking the scabs of my past just so you can understand why I am the way I am. I have grown tired of all of it so, please just leave me be.
hardly worth the hassle, 9/20
And that’s the thing about me, I can hold a grudge. I let the little things get to me, the trauma, the pain, I let it all fester. I let the memories replay in my mind until my heart and reason align with one another because if I can remember everything I can prevent further occurrences.
tired just tired
And I fucking hate this because no matter how happy I think I am, I’m not. I slip back into the person I really am. The demons are running wild and I cannot help it.
depression
And I suppose I’ve never really had a safe place to land. I’ve never had a solid foundation growing up. I’ve never known what stability is. What it looks like, what it feels like. All I’ve ever known was how fucked up everything is.
September 20, 2018: You told me to go, I’m leaving
“Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them”—
“i remember the first time. i was a child only. ten, maybe. i was walking to the kitchen, still hearing those words: chubby. dark-skinned. ugly. it was not the first time, but i wanted it to be the last time. so i came. i told you. why could you not even look at me, mom, was i that ugly? and yes, i started changing myself. just like you said. appointments, diets, creams. my world revolved around these only things. my closet was full of whites, yellows, and all the lighter shades. you were the one who told me, mom, i look ugly in dark tones. even though black was my favorite color. wear this, not that. put your hair this way, not that. eat this, not that. i lost myself, then. forgot my likes, my dislikes. all i became was ugly. all i did was change myself. fast forward. it’s a few years later. i’m fifteen, now. starving myself till i stop sleeping; the constant hunger pangs keep me awake. but beauty is pain and pain is beauty, right? i have a separate journal for all the calorie counts. what to eat, what not to eat. because i’m not human, i’m a mass of ugliness. taking not one, but a dozen pills a day for my bones have rotted caring for me when all i did was waste them in the gym. and my reflection? it’s still tainted by those words. chubby. dark-skinned. ugly. do i stop, now, mom or do i have to keep changing myself?”— old habits// S.M.
“Love is beautiful and a gift, but it’s also an investment. If we’re smart we’ll get return, but sometimes we lose and it’s devastating.”— tara love / and damn this stock market is deceiving, but you can’t blame yourself
“People think of hope as the light at the end of the tunnel. But sometimes too much hope is a dangerous thing, y’know. Sometimes it’s the thing with feathers, and sometimes it’s the thing with claws.”— Juansen Dizon