i’m having trouble keeping my eyes open, but hey. at least i can drown my thoughts out with high quality television. or books. or youtube. or anything. anything to make it stop. because when you hit the pause button, how come it all comes to a stop, and the thoughts in my head start to pick up, and suddenly i’m falling off a cliff so watch me drop
because i don’t want to think about all the things in this world i don’t know. about the emptiness thrumming in my bones, or about how no matter how much i accomplish i still feel like i’m 11 years old, not sure who i am, and drowning in my own lack of self control, and god. could someone please just call me beautiful?
and i’m having trouble keeping my eyes open, but that’s all right. i mean, i’m pretty sure it’s normal.
and it’s all healthy, teenager stuff. you just need to learn to let go, let go, let go. jump off the ledge, and feel your hair whip in the wind, feel your mind start to bend. and just… just try to forget about it. because it’s not going away any time soon.
Wow, reading and editing poems I wrote ages ago is… a trip. It’s weird–how everything has changed and yet still stayed the same all at the same time. It sounds dumb, but I miss even feeling like this.
i think that’s what i saw in you. because they’re autotuned, but we’re the real version. we’re messy hair and yesterday’s outfit, and the most random, hilarious sense of humour.
you were acoustic. you were the most lovely version of a song we’ve all heard over and over again only this time i get it.
and whatever it means, i think our little group feels like home. and i still don’t really get it. what it means, to love someone for what they are, and how to be a good person, and i know that sometimes i do a pretty shitty job at it. and i know we’re all a mess. i know i’ve written this stupid poem before, and i’ll probably write it again.
but i think we’re gonna be ok. in the end. and i don’t know what’s going to happen, but… we’ll get there eventually.
no matter how hard. and long, and shitty the road is. and i know. i know. i know. i’m not gonna try and romanticize it.
but in the end, we are going to get there. i promise.
and hey. i’m not gonna leave you alone in this.
and so watch, as my lips shatter into the golden sunset. as my thoughts break, glass falling to the ground, and it’s all fucking over now. so here i am, staring up at the ceiling, just waiting for my mind to shut down.
and so listen, as blood dribbles off my fingers, and my hope melts like a candle in the freezing. cold. winter.
because this. this is the apocalypse; the one we’ve all been waiting for. so take a seat. grab some fucking popcorn. and turn off your heart. and brush away every part of yourself that ever dared to think that things were gonna get better, because they aren’t.
because life is not a disney movie.
and you can’t spend all day in bed, hiding away from the reality.
trigger warning: implied self-harm
i don’t know. maybe it’s my meds. maybe i’m spinning spinning spinning, and we all know she’s gonna hit the edge. gonna go plummeting over, right into the abyss. going to scream at the darkness swallows her, because she’s never felt anything like this.
and she’s weak, and coddled, and stupid. and i can’t believe she thinks this is suffering, because this? this is barely the start of it.
trying to get better, and always failing at it. burning yourself out to nothing, and working until 1a.m., and crying in the school bathroom just trying to live with the marks on your wrists. and life isn’t fair, you idiot. stop asking what you did to deserve this.
it just… happened. because your dna sucks, or because trauma is a bitch, and maybe it’s just my meds. or maybe it’s depression. because i know there are people who get better, i know there are people who learn how to live like this but right now… it’s pretty hard to believe it.
soft pastel clouds, lonely whispers between lovers, and the sound of endless rainfall.
snow seeping through my coat until i’m freezing cold. and every day is just the fucking same, you know?
phone on silent. vibrating in my pocket. and whatever you’re asking, the answer will always be no.
breath against the car window. foggy finger-drawings of places we’ll never go.
wind on my cheeks. and the nightmares call. and i let my eyes. slip. closed.
Wrote this a while ago, on a really lonely night.