When I was little I stepped on a glass filled with water. I didn’t cry. Instead, I just stared at the blood pouring out of my foot. It didn’t hurt at first. It felt like I wasn’t even in my body like I was watching someone else get hurt completely helpless. I didn’t know how to call for help. I just stared.
Then my mom came. She screamed when she saw me. She panicked. She sat me down in a chair and started cleaning the wound. That’s when the pain began but still, I couldn’t cry or speak. I just watched her silently, as she cleaned and wrapped my foot. She was so worried and all I could think about was the glass I had broken. I didn’t know if it was a big problem or not but I felt guilty. I didn’t want to make things worse by crying.
After she took me to their room and let me sleep there. I slept through the whole night. But when I woke up in the morning, I cried. I don’t remember if it was because of the pain itself, or because the pain needed a way out. It felt like something in me needed to be seen, acknowledged. I was still hurting, still limping but that morning, the tears finally came. The pain had waited for its moment.
I still have the scar on the bottom of my foot. And even though I say I don’t remember much about growing up, I remember every movement from that day. It’s carved into me.
And now I wonder when will I cry for all the other things I’ve stepped on? The things I ignored or tried to forget. The feelings I never let myself feel. When will all of that come out too?
Then my mom came. She screamed when she saw me. She panicked. She sat me down in a chair and started cleaning the wound. That’s when the pain began but still, I couldn’t cry or speak. I just watched her silently, as she cleaned and wrapped my foot. She was so worried and all I could think about was the glass I had broken. I didn’t know if it was a big problem or not but I felt guilty. I didn’t want to make things worse by crying.
After she took me to their room and let me sleep there. I slept through the whole night. But when I woke up in the morning, I cried. I don’t remember if it was because of the pain itself, or because the pain needed a way out. It felt like something in me needed to be seen, acknowledged. I was still hurting, still limping but that morning, the tears finally came. The pain had waited for its moment.
I still have the scar on the bottom of my foot. And even though I say I don’t remember much about growing up, I remember every movement from that day. It’s carved into me.
And now I wonder when will I cry for all the other things I’ve stepped on? The things I ignored or tried to forget. The feelings I never let myself feel. When will all of that come out too?
❤11
Forwarded from Scattered skull.
The words aren’t even there. The emotions don’t exist. You both fall silent, swallowed by the weight of everything left unsaid. The only sound is the stubborn rhythm of your own heart pounding against the silence as if trying to remind you that you are still here, that this moment is real even as it slips away like a dream dissolving at daybreak.
You are there. You are sinking the way people sink in water slow and inevitable. The weight of it presses in, slipping into your ears drowning out the world. You are deaf to everything except the constant beat of your own heart stupid refusing to let you forget that you are still alive.
Your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to reach out to grab onto something, anything.
But the air between you is suffocating so still and fragile that if you move it feels as though it might shatter into tiny irreparable pieces.The silence is endless filled with nothing but absence. It presses against you, curling around your throat seeping into your lungs. You want to run to break free before the weight of it destroys you completely but your legs feel welded to the floor, as if moving would mean surrendering some essential part of yourself.So you stand there. Even though sometimes it feels as if you already. Moved trust me your feet are still welded in place.
And sadly you are still there.
Realization 7
You are there. You are sinking the way people sink in water slow and inevitable. The weight of it presses in, slipping into your ears drowning out the world. You are deaf to everything except the constant beat of your own heart stupid refusing to let you forget that you are still alive.
Your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to reach out to grab onto something, anything.
But the air between you is suffocating so still and fragile that if you move it feels as though it might shatter into tiny irreparable pieces.The silence is endless filled with nothing but absence. It presses against you, curling around your throat seeping into your lungs. You want to run to break free before the weight of it destroys you completely but your legs feel welded to the floor, as if moving would mean surrendering some essential part of yourself.So you stand there. Even though sometimes it feels as if you already. Moved trust me your feet are still welded in place.
And sadly you are still there.
Forwarded from Such is Life
Went ahead and did it. This is my first, sort of unofficial, Substack article
[Sinners: A Spoiler-free Review]
There are two halves to this movie. The build-up and the pay-off. The build-up is centered around establishing the world and the characters enduring it, while the pay-off presents a fictional chaos which challenges this way of life. Therefore, the question becomes not of the ability to survival but the choice to do so.
[Sinners: A Spoiler-free Review]
I reply fast because THAT WHAT YOU DO. I’m on my phone most of the time so why should I ignore it just to protect someone’s ego? I can’t stand people who take forever to text back it’s not cool and it’s not me being clingy or annoying. I just get bored easily and feel the need to respond when I can.
If it ever seems like I’m ignoring your messages, it’s probably because I didn’t see them, read them at the wrong time, or didn’t have anything to say right away.
So please don’t let your ego convince you that fast replies mean someone’s obsessed with you. Some of us (like me) simply respect your time and our own.
If it ever seems like I’m ignoring your messages, it’s probably because I didn’t see them, read them at the wrong time, or didn’t have anything to say right away.
So please don’t let your ego convince you that fast replies mean someone’s obsessed with you. Some of us (like me) simply respect your time and our own.
👍7❤1
I want to do this so bad. But I only have a few days left.
I like how she expresses things and was saying it but forgot about it.
I like how she expresses things and was saying it but forgot about it.
❤1
I don't like making a big deal out of it but if you are a close friend of mine, I love people’s birthdays so much so so much.
#1
When I first showed my grandma my white coat.
She was so proud.
That moment felt beautiful.
When I first showed my grandma my white coat.
She was so proud.
That moment felt beautiful.
❤6