silver lining

if someone were to follow me home, i hope they’d like what they found, at the very least. and maybe, just maybe, i could unclench their tight fists, could soften their bitter ways, for just a moment, because isn’t that what i’m supposed to do?

talk you down with my sugar-spun adjectives and verbs, on magical occasions such as these, where the sun glows bright in our eyes, and blinds us to uncertainty, and i just start laughing when it shatters, because it’s all so fucking funny.

just these little chemical impulses in my brain. which is a chunk of matter i’ve convinced myself i control, as we spin around and around in circles on this space rock we call home, which is in a galaxy, which is in a universe, and i’m so fucking infinitesimal that none of it matters in the end, not really–

and yet i still see my life flash before my eyes, every time you forget to shower me in a constant stream of validation and courtesy. i’m like a needy little kid, because maybe i never stopped being one.

just learned to stuff my childhood in a jar, and keep it on a shelf. maybe i’ll put a little dash of it in this story, or that poem, who knows–take a pinch of powdered nostalgia with my tea. is that normal? is it really?

is it okay to compare your brain to a half-dead charging cable that still works in a pinch, you just have to move it around a bit, but i can’t fucking stand the idea of falling behind. of being second-best.

and i’m trying to look for the silver lining here. i’m getting pretty good at it–shifting the lightning, and wracking my mind for a pretty turn of phrase. but i’ve got nothing today.

the first time i eat lunch in front of other people

trigger warning: insecurity, body image issues, fear of abandonment

does my body disgust you? does the humanness of needing to eat three meals a day disgust you? do you notice, how awkward i am when i talk and i laugh and i dodge out of arguments and can all of this just stop now it’s too much to breath through? and does it make your skin crawl? does it make you want to leave me because i am scared you want to leave me. i am scared i am not enough for me. am i just. not. good enough for you. now that i’m human am i. just. too. much for you. now that i’m not perfect. now that i am the vegan. i am the one who’s different. i know i am weird. please. don’t think i’m an idiot. the scribbled edges of my skin blur and it’s hard to breathe again. i’m a messy drawing. i’m six years old again. ii’m a mess of screams stuffed back into the cardboard box. is it all right if i start bleeding? is it all right if my hands are shaking? is it all right, that the compulsions are curled up in my chest they are monsters, about to creep in? i’m sorry, i too wish i didn’t have a body. i am a crumpled piece of paper, and all i’m trying to do is smooth myself out in front of you, except my brain is screaming, and you feel like wilting flowers in my fingers, and it takes me a moment to realize that you aren’t going to leave me because it feels like you’re going to leave me because it feels like everything is going to leave me because my stomach is so empty, and i don’t want you to see that when i get home i gorge on everything like the void cares about being fed. i am clinging onto you like lifelines, and i hate that. i am not a robot, but i want to be, because i can’t do this tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day. i am not a robot, and the pressure of this is so heavy, and it feels like it’s about to shatter me, and it could just be that i’m tired and i’m thirsty but i think i need to run away and i can’t think clearly. and i can’t stop typing, because if you’re reading this please take it from me: do not starve yourself of what you want more than anything in an attempt to stop needing, because you do realize that every time i left myself in the dark of my mind, it only made me more empty, and pain is not something anyone can ever stop feeling, and i feel like someone went into my mind and kind of ruined everything, and then i realize someone is me, and then i realize the monster is me. my compulsions are strangling me. i think maybe i can’t do this because i want to hide from the burning pressure of your eyes. i am standing at the edge of this cliff and it feels like every small autumn breeze is trying to bury me. i’m still learning how to be a person. i’m still learning how to be a friend but it’s difficult because i think you have to leave yourself to do that. and i’m still learning how to escape the desperation and the loneliness, and every single internal storming ocean. and i’m trying, and i’m making progress. i just. need. a moment. but i still hope that’s all right. is that all right? do you still want me?


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announcements and wattpad and my life

hello my angsty internet strangers! so: i homeschool, which is how i have the time to maintain this blog and all the social media and stuff. also, drumroll please… I’M DONE ALL MY SCHOOLWORK FOR THIS YEAR!! (more or less; i still have corrections on one assignment and a french test.) so because i have all that free time and empty brain space, i’m planning on posting more often on this blog, since for the next four months i’m going to have a lot more free time. so from now on, i’ll post on mondays and fridays. i’ll probably ramp up my posting later in the summer, but for now i’m going to keep it at that.

also, for those of you who don’t know, i have a wattpad account, and i just posted a short story. it’s called the sleep and it’s about an insomniac who uses the internet alias starryskye.e. she’s lonely, and kind of me as a 19-year-old university student studying astrophysics, and she designs a robot to be her friend, called SootheBot. the story chronicles her friendship with SootheBot and talks a lot about philosophy and mental health and angst, and it’s awesome. read it here if you want: https://www.wattpad.com/story/188806434-the-sleep. and if you have wattpad, you can follow me here: https://www.wattpad.com/user/dragonwritesthings. (yes, my username is dragonwritesthings. don’t judge! i am VERY PROUD OF MY USERNAME.)

if you missed the poems i posted yesterday, they can be read here, here, here, here, and here. 🙂

big hug and deep breath,

finding_souls

how to find a feeling

trigger warning: numbness and confusion

close your eyes; the world hurts too much. ask if anyone’s seen the part of you that cared, and point to the hole in your chest, and when other people don’t see it, grab out your goddamn magnifying glass. show them the cuts and scrapes and bruises. show them the emptiness, but of course they won’t get it, so maybe it doesn’t exist. rock yourself asleep against the quiet nothingness. love is the feeling that makes your heart slam rhythms into your chest this is the start of the song of your life the inspirational posts on tumblr did tell me this. my life is a song but… i don’t know the lyrics yet. hope for something to last so hard it feels like you’re about to shatter the glass heart nestled in chest but i’m still not sure what it is. take off your glasses let the whole world shift in and in and out and in and out of focus. there will be screaming forests and the horror stories and the haunted houses. it’s a choice yes but it’s a choice made out of the belief that i am nothing if i am not a nice neat package. and you’ll call them up begging for someone to remind you why you are alive but the words will stay silent inside and oh my god the sound of your voice is enough to bring every single memory to life, and oh my god why do i want to just die sometimes, and oh my god why do the nightmares follow me every and every night, and i’m spinning again, because the feelings are too much. and i’m punching again and trying to see if this time i can leave bruises because bruises mean some kind of validation, and some kind of closure, and closure means permanence, and i swear i’m working through it with my therapist but right now her office is the only place my mind even makes sense. but maybe these feelings are not just feelings. maybe they are really just a message, and it’s all there in front of me written in code if only i could read it. and maybe someday the ghosts in my chest will all assemble into order and bow before me and start cleaning out my chest. and what i mean by that is every single one of these letters is art but it’s also just me knocking doors in the middle of the night, hoping someone will get it without words when i hold the magnifying glass up to the tears pooling in my eyes. and it’s also just my heart filling up like a hot air balloon before exploding all night. and it’s also my lungs. breathing. and the oceans inside me. and it’s also the feeling of your arms wrapped around my shoulders and my arms wrapped around your shoulders and the way it’s the warmest feeling that even though i’m not sure what it is, something about me made this person care enough to wrap their arms around me. and i still can’t really believe that somewhere between the broken pieces, i managed to make you happy.


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