i’m still drinking coffee

i'm still drinking coffee

and i just sort of want to curl up in a ball and forget about everything.  and i just sort of want something to give way in my head and then it would all be okay because right now, i don’t want to feel anything. and i just sort of want to pretend it’s all fine because then i won’t have to think about the way i play this kind of sick game with my mind where  i stack to-do lists on my shoulders and see how much pressure i can take before something collapses. and my hands shake and my knees wobble. and the feelings mash together poisoned breadcrumbs and made up weather. and i’m playing this game with my mind where i wonder how many cups of coffee it’ll take for you to notice me. how many times i’ll be sitting here alone in the empty before you see me. because there’s a voice in my head and it’s not that i can hear it out loud. and i guess it’s just my self-hatred. which is really just me. which is really just the bent burning embers of tears mixed with staring in the mirror begging the stars to give me anything that looks like talent. because then i’ll know who to be. because then i’ll be more than another kid worrying about money. and i’ll gloss over my face for you because i don’t know if i trust you and this is an interview. and i have to be perfect. so here i go. here’s everything i never thought i’d say to anyone sanded around the edges, rose-tinted lenses because i don’t want to scare you with the pitch-black colour of my thoughts as they stare back at me. blinking, once. ever so quickly.


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i am a house – a poem

im a house

i am a house and you’re gone today. i am a house and i don’t feel sad exactly it’s just i don’t know what to say. i am a house and as my chest hollows itself out i’m sobbing on the couch like if i scream loud enough i’ll be able to just get this feeling out of my system. i am a house and the words rush through me and life always has this way of flying at you way, way too quickly. i am a house but the roof is caving in, and it’s all ending or at least it feels that way. and i know you’re gonna be gone someday. but if i accept that, i’ll also have to accept that nothing is permanent. and i’ll have to accept that someday, everything i love will either be gone or dead inside. and someday we’ll have to watch the light vacuum out of each others’ eyes and still somehow find a way to live with it and do you know how tired i am of all of this? how tired i am of this feeling, like ripping a band-aid off my open wounds, and the best i can do is ignore it. because i am not gonna be stardust. i am gonna be rotting in the ground. and all of this will be meaningless. and i know i am overreacting. it’s just… i am going to be alone someday. and that’s the what i am afraid of, more than anything. i am going to be alone, in the middle of the atlantic ocean and the waves will be 40 feet tall and i still will be panicking as the static between us stretches out to infinity and i still don’t know what to say. i am a house and i made it. i am a house and i did this. i am a house, and i still don’t quite know how to process this. i am a house and maybe someday i’ll know how to hang paintings on the empty walls of my chest but right now, all i want to do is curl up in a ball and try to paint armour on my skin so you don’t touch me because the emotions are red-hot embers burning at my fingers and my lungs overflow and apparently it’s possible to be burning alive or on fire or completely aglow and still feel cold. i don’t want to lose you because i am still not sure what you see in me and right now i am a house and i can only half-handle being alone. i am a house, and please don’t hate me for being like this sometimes. i am a house, and i’m tired of having to be better than i am but i don’t know what i am and i am a house, and i just want to go home.


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thunder

Copy thunder(2)

trigger warning: self-harm mention

i want to scream and / i want to break things  and / i want to see the look on your face when you realize i don’t care in this moment because my mind is a graveyard and the trees will shatter in the wind and the pavement will crumple and after this storm there’ll be nothing left inside me and that will probably be better than this because i’m fucking tired of this cacophony in my head / and writing this feels kind of good because i know it scares you but i need to scream somehow and through all this i’m honestly terrified that i was only made to break things / that this monster in my chest is really the only thing that controls me / because i want the thunder to roll above me and i want to not be afraid this time / i want to run out into the storm and tilt my head up to the sky and hold out my arms out like a bird because i think the world is falling apart but a small part of me has always wanted to fly / and the rain falls so hard it hurts and i’m only half yours and the calming music just makes it hurt more / and thinking about it is smashing a hammer against a glass jar and laughing as it falls apart / and the lightning roars / and the sky goes kind of black and they tell me not to have anything plugged into the outlets because my head is a mess and explosions are a thing that happen / and i can’t even process the idea / that one day  everything could go dark / and maybe that’s better because i hate the world for being so broken and i hate myself for being responsible for it / and the ink of the past smeared across my cheeks but it looks just a little bit like war paint if you tilt your head a certain way / and i want to find a way to deal with this / but i don’t think i can do that while you’re listening and the lightning crackles through my veins and my fists are wrecking balls and my thighs are buildings scheduled for destruction / and at the eye of the storm you can’t really feel anything / and i hate myself but right now it’s kind of diluted which is a relief because i’m tired of feeling everything in high definition / and right now there are tears streaming down my cheeks and the concrete tattoos itself into my knees and my lungs shake and i want to rip myself to pieces for so many goddamn reasons and the moonlight dances through my eyelids / and i don’t care about anything and i hate myself for not caring about anything which proves that i care about something / but i don’t want to care about anything / if i’m only going to have to watch it shatter in front of me / as i stand there frozen to the floorboards and the tears burn like acid / burn like acid / burn like acid / and i’m empty


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lightbulb

warning: swearing, exhaustion, loneliness

the soft light rubs my eyes to sleep. the words have carved me right through and my mind has been hollowed empty. i am the remnants of burnt down forests and tree stumps. i am rotten pieces and empty stomachs. i am nights on five hours of sleep. i am spinning and spinning and spinning and no matter how fast the world gets it’s killing me because you’re hurting me. but you don’t know you’re hurting me because you’re broken too and we are all broken too and the notifications keep rolling in like updates from a war, but it’s a war i don’t fucking want to fight anymore. and what if you win? what if no matter how many midnights i work straight through just trying to get the job done it’ll never really mean anything? and i want to be surrounded by people but i also just want to make you leave me now i want. i want. i want. i want to build myself up and then collapse myself all over again. i want to sleep right through the morning like a goddamn fucking normal weekend person. like a goddamn fucking person who can fit into the world like it goddamm fucking is. but that’s not how it is. and i want to make all of these sounds just cut out to silence. except the silence feels honestly more like emptiness. and i can’t meet your eyes because every time i see your pupils my skin starts to crawl somehow and i can picture every single one of my organs slowly emptying out of my chest because you define me and you live inside me and you control me and because i’m not good enough for you except it’s mostly in my head but it doesn’t matter. because my eyes are closing in exhaustion. and i’m gone already. and i guess it feels a little like flying or maybe drowning, but it’s hard to tell the difference to tell the difference sometimes. and i guess it feels a little like the part of me that is me is shrinking, and shrinking, and shrinking. i’m crumpled paper. i’m hands letting go of each other. the empty crevasse of a future. and the reason i’m afraid to close my eyes is that i’m kind of scared without my accomplishments as the dark creeps in, i’m nothing inside.


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11p.m.

did you know fun fact your perfect product comes at the cost of my mental well being? example: today, i realize at 9:30 i decide i need to finish two units of french for no apparent reason other than my skin is crawling and to leave anything half-broken makes me feel nervous. i finish a lesson. work harder, because my stomach is jumping out of my chest, and it’s hard to think clearly when your body works like this. it’s hard to sift through the lies desperately carving myself to the finish line because part of me just wants to keep moving, and part of me wants to do big things, but part of me just wants to grab your hand and never let go of it but even i know it’s more complicated than that. i’m trying to care of myself and stuff like my friends tell me to and stuff because i know they want me to be happy and stuff but it’s difficult to fill an empty mind with only other people’s love. and try to hold onto the good memories like lifelines, when the storm is telling you a hundred thousand lies. and i’m not a machine but i kind of wish i could be. but i also don’t because i think it would break me. seeing everything i could achieve, and still having to let go of all of it. so i chase after these concepts late into the night, over and over and over again. and yeah. it’s never gonna happen. but i still want it more than anything. i still sacrifice my mental well-being at the altar of my insecurity every night and every morning. it takes a long time to put the monsters to bed and now it’s too late at night. and the weight is blinding, and the only thought left in my empty head is that i don’t want to be normal or emotionless or whatever it is, not when it comes down to it. i just want to be accepted.


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