february 27th, 2020

to be honest, maybe i’ve spent my whole life like this. wondering if there’s anything in the world that could make me forget that i exist.

and to be honest, maybe i don’t know who i am if i don’t hate myself. but… maybe it’s time i figured it out.

because there comes a point in everyone’s lives when the past is not enough anymore. when i have a choice. to let it define me, or to let me define it. and i refuse to accept that this is all there is.

so for all the times i’ve said it, i’m not sorry any longer. i’m not your damsel in distress, i’m not your punching bag, or your little kid, and i’m not perfect, or invincible.

but i’m not fucking helpless. 


So… to explain the origins of this poem, basically, for a solid four years, I was bullied in school, and I’d be lying if I said that’s why I have anxiety, but it definitely messed me up, and I guess this was just my best attempt at talking back to that part of myself. 

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december 27th, 2019

i’m disgusted by my body. i’m disgusted by myself. i’m disgusted by humanity.

so lift me high above my mind.  crush up my skeleton. hit the delete button. turn off the gravity.

flickering lights. black and white. i read over old journals and start to forget the reality.

and the colours always sort of melt late at night. blue, and green, and yellow, and white…

sand i’m not even sure what’s true and what’s false anymore. So find me curled up in the darkest hole i can find. hiding away, from the fucked up beast i call my mind.


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skin

fire ants / and tentacles / and sun in your eyes / ringing music / fading vision / and i don’t want to be alive. / panting breaths / and i fall apart on the floor / and i’m honestly not sure / what’s holding me up anymore / so / just close your eyes / so / just crumple onto the ground and let your hands touch the sky / and i am crawling in my skin / and i am writhing in this body / some idiot forced me to live in / and maybe / i can’t handle this / and maybe / i wasn’t meant for this / and maybe / they were wrong about me / because right now / it sure does feel like it / and / i am so fucking exhausted / so read me a fairy tale / and tuck me into bed / and tell me you love me / and turn off my mind / just like you did back then.


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static

soft voice, screen light, and eyes slammed closed. late nights, grey days, and aesthetically pleasing piano.

and please just keep your eyes closed. because you don’t want to see me when i’m like this. when i’m crying on the floor, and the walls start to shake, and suddenly even gravity feels unsure.

you don’t want to see me when i’m like this. when i’m not a hero. or a queen. i’m just a fucking hot mess.

and maybe i’ll see your text. maybe i won’t.

but i just… i don’t care about anything right now. you know?


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i am normal

i am normal. for one goddamn moment. not the pile of skin and bones i have come to call home. i am just a teenager. please tell me that i am just a teenager because i don’t want to be alone. 

i am normal. and you can’t tell me otherwise, because anger is a wall of fire i will build around myself to keep everything else out because i’ve been through enough. 

so i am normal. so i am fine. so i am pretty, and perfect, and all right, and look at me with my blog, and my good grades, and my lovely social life.

look at me. look at me straight in the fucking eye and tell me any of this mattered. tell me it was worth it.

i mean, go ahead. try.

nothing you say is gonna make me believe it.


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