july 7th, 2019

july 7th, 2019.jpg

trigger warning: possible suicide mention

i am / a melting waterfall i am / global warming i am / probably catastrophizing but it feels like the end of the world to me and i am / crumbling castles i am melting waterfalls and the second you stand at the edge and realize you’re about to fall i am / flowers in the fall i am / the fall right now / i am the fall in your arms trying to spread sunlight across my skin as time starts to feel just a little bit irrelevant / i am a black hole and i’m not sure which one of us is gonna be the first one to drown but i know it’s gonna happen somehow i am whispering a hundred thousand love letters between the punches and it’s all for you / i am jumping off cliffs because somehow that makes it easier i am / sleepless and it feels kind of like headaches and screen light and empty compliments and numbness and my stomach slowly hollowing itself out / i am the skeletons of turtleshells / i am the arranged shards of broken cassette tapes and lightbulbs i am so many lightbulbs i am the feeling of holding onto your hand and feeling like there’s someone in the world who wants to guard the small flame of my heartbeat with their life for a second / i am an iceberg and i am melting and i’m sorry for making the whole world drown inside my mind i just wanted to feel alive / and i’m sorry i’m making the whole world overflow / i am drifting through the past too quickly shards of memories still tangled up in the strands of my hair filaments trying to blaze their way through my skull again because / the weight of my decisions feels like it’s crushing me because / some days everything makes sense but some days i’m just the shards of calamities and 1a.m. writing sessions pressing against each other like maybe if we just tried hard enough / we could track down all the broken parts of ourselves and stitch them together / somehow / somehow / somehow / i am sleepless i am / collapsing brick buildings i am / dangling my feet off the ledge of some apartment building in the middle of nowhere / with tears in my eyes because i’m scared of letting go and i’m scared of losing you and i’m scared of losing myself and i’m scared the sky is broken


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wish

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untangle hair. wash my skin clean again so i can try to draw the one thing on my arms that will make it all feel okay again. blue costco ballpoint pen. and it’s been ages since i’ve slept like a normal person. and the sky starts to bend and twist and the pain bores into me. slowly, slowly, slowly. and i wouldn’t go back but i miss going slowly. i miss sleeping. i miss sleeping like i had all the time in the world. and i wish it didn’t have to be about marketing. and i wish that your eyes could just not be so broken and maybe then you’d actually see me. maybe you’d get it. and i wish you understood that i have feelings and i wish you respected them. and i wish i didn’t keep having nightmares because all of my nightmares are always about standing there. and every part of me is exposed. and you see me as everything i am my flaws becoming sink holes. and i can’t breathe because… you’re gonna hate me, right? because honestly, sometimes. i look in the mirror, i can’t tell what you see in me. and i know i’m supposed to be better than this at holding myself together but i don’t know what i’m supposed to tell myself to make it all better. but i don’t know what i’m supposed to do with myself to make these words matter. but i don’t know what i’m supposed to tell you to make it all better. and you say you want to live in a cabin in the woods but close to a city and with a good internet connection where we could bury ourselves in blankets and hide away from the world forming shelters with our arms so nothing could hurt us anymore. no one could be the earthquakes through our skin anymore. no one could make us lie awake at night feeling this broken anymore. and the stars would sing us to sleep at night, and we would sleep at night. and unwind the broken coils inside our minds. and maybe someday, we’d open up the locked boxes of sadness in our chests and make sense of this.


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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

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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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a file somewhere with my name on it

a file somewhere with my name on it(3)

trigger warning: suicidal thoughts

***** is where my name has been censored out.


so i’m looking at posts about depression. even though i’m not even sure that’s what this is. and my tumblr gives me a list of crisis hotlines and asks if i’m all right. and it’s really fucking late at night. and i tell my stomach not to jump and dismiss the whole thing without even reading it. and i hate the way it feels to wonder if there’s a file somewhere with my name on it. i’m so scared of being flagged as broken and yet it’s all i’ve ever wanted. this isn’t a good time to tell stories, but i need to tell you that when i was six, i stopped eating lunch at school partially because it made me self-conscious and partially because i wanted to die and back then i thought skipping a meal equaled starvation. obviously, it didn’t. i wanted to die because i was different. i wanted to die because no one loved me for what i was and i felt trapped and numb and drifting it’s just then i didn’t realize it and my skin was a prison. or maybe i wanted attention. maybe i wanted to be loved and accepted and noticed and isn’t that all anyone ever has wanted and how is that something anyone can ever refer to that as selfish don’t you get it? all i fucking wanted was to not hear my mind whispering at me how i am so, so broken. i didn’t ask for this, and i don’t want to be the kid alone in the hallway again. i don’t want to feel like i did something wrong because i’m sitting in the office to see a speech pathologist getting tested for mental illness, and i’m yours to control so here’s my chest because no one else gets it and i want to die sometimes and i’ll always be different, and no one will ever want you if you’re different. and why do i always have to be so different? why does this have to be such a big deal? and why can’t i just knock it off? why can’t i stop writing angsty poems? stop writing angsty poems the way you write angsty poems. *****, no one cares, and no is going to listen. there’s no future in this. no one wants you the way you are. you’re so goddamn dramatic. just get the fuck over it. don’t feel like a tree being cut down, a door being pounded open. don’t hate the fog as it swallows you, and it feels like you become it. you realize normal people are miserable? you realize your feelings don’t really matter? you realize you’re just an atom and any difference you make can blinked away you are insignificant you are not real just don’t speak up you’ll only make you hate yourself and then they’ll notice you and then they’ll control you and then they’ll take your home from you and then they’ll take your thoughts from you and then you won’t be you and then i’ll own you and then you’ll probably kill yourself like you almost did then you are walking a tightrope and someday you’ll fall and why don’t you get it? i am shouting my pain out, but at the same time i am smothering it.


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