& please oh god oh please / stitch the fault lines into neat seams / slash and cut and tear me into something else so i can breathe / because i can’t breathe / sometimes / when your hand brushes mine / and it’s not pretty / or romantic / when i say i can’t breathe i mean i start to fucking panic / & hey / can we just talk for a while because / i think my head is gonna explode into little glass pieces on the floor if i don’t tell someone about it / & i’m overcaffeinated / & useless / reaching out with one hand through the piercing dark / & why / why does my life always have to be this hard? / i mean shut up / you don’t have a right to say anything you’ve been through is hard/ and maybe the voice is right / maybe they’re right / maybe it’s time to give up / & just / let myself fall apart
Reaching out to others is really important for me. I guess that’s why I’m writing this blog in the first place–because reaching out to others is probably the only reason I’m in the place I am in life right now, honestly.
(I promise I’m safe, I just wrote this a couple months ago while I was in a really dark place.)
and so brush off the red flags with positive affirmations, and a flick of your finger. you’re being dramatic. it’s just human nature. and i don’t think you’re supposed to have something to live for.
pounding drumbeats, and angry music, and standing on the edge, and footsteps against cork floor. and what are you doing? you shouldn’t feel angry like this. shouldn’t be losing control like this, and please stop telling yourself there’s nothing you can do about it.
you did something wrong. and you deserve to be punished. clenched fists, and a churning stomach.
they did something wrong. and they deserve to face your wrath for it. fast breathing, and a throat sore from screaming.
and look at this hole you’ve dug yourself into. look at the fires you’ve lit, and the homes you’ve torn up from the ground, and good god. what have you done to yourself?
I wanted this poem to feel really jarring and, I don’t know, rhythmic? A little like a heavy metal song in poetry, if that makes any sense. I don’t really know where it came from, it was just an empty file on Google Docs I opened up at school and then a couple days later I wrote this just based off the file name. Of late, I haven’t really been struggling with anger like I have in the past–but, well, I’ve been in some pretty bad places in terms of anger, and I wanted to just try and write that out.
Happy blogiversary everyone! Thanks so much to everyone who listened to the whole of this chaotic puddle of a recording. I’m so glad I started posting my work on the internet, and I hope 2020 is an amazing year for all of us. ❤ -dragonwritesthings
and in the photo album, it all looks so perfect. doesn’t it? hallmark smiles, and christmas card messages, and maybe if we keep going at this we can just pretend there’s nothing off about it.
in the photo album, i do not have mental illness. i am just a smiling little girl, with freckles on her cheeks, and the wind in her hair, and in the end, i am nothing more than a pretty face. sitting there.
in the photo album, maybe i am just being stupid. and dramatic. but i still can’t help but feel the fault lines wracking through me, except… maybe this isn’t really me. maybe this brain was never mine, and maybe i am out of place inside this body.
maybe i made it all up. maybe i don’t remember it correctly, because if i was so miserable how can i look so happy?
I went through all my old childhood pictures and videos and stuff on my laptop a couple days ago, and kind of broke down a little afterward. Not in a loud way. It just triggered this chain of denial inside me–like, I’m just lying, I don’t really have anxiety. I guess this was what I wrote to at least attempt to deal with those feelings.
i don’t get it. i’m sorry. could you please just explain this to me again? i know i’m not always a good person.
it’s cold out, and i just want to turn back time to last year. when i was naive, and for a couple scattered, fleeting, days, everything was beautiful. but i can’t do that. so… here i am.
and maybe i was just a really lonely kid. maybe i clung to promises more than i should have, for the sole purpose of needing something to hold onto. but i still miss you.
and if you ever read this, i just want to say i’m sorry if i hurt you. if i did something wrong. and i’m not angry. i get it. i miss you, and i wish you were here, but i get it. you’ve moved on. and it’s ok. you don’t need my permission to be whoever you want.
so i hope you’re happy. i hope you’re really happy. i hope you’re who you want to be.
and… thank you. for all the things you’ve given me.
I know this is based off something that happened in my life, but I’m not sure what exactly what it is anymore. Just some nostalgic/regretful memories in general I guess?