Scribe your soul out
how to make it stop start organizing.
hehe
woke up to more mess.
don’t start organizing
you ain't it.
woke up to more mess.
don’t start organizing
you ain't it.
Forwarded from Lumivenn
The most disquieting aspect of waltzing with shadows lies not in their darkness, nor in the way they entwine themselves around each footfall, but in the mournful cries that unravel from some ineffable distance, cries for which no reason can be offered. suspended in the air like half-formed verses of a forgotten hymn or the remnants of dreams that dissolve upon waking. And yet I wonder: if I were to walk steadfastly within the light, would its radiance render the silence I crave? Or would it merely sharpen the clarity of that sorrowful refrain? Does illumination dispel anguish? Or does it simply unveil it in sharper focus?
Perhaps light and shadow are not adversaries, but twin swords swung by the same blue spirit, A double-ended spear drawn in and exhaled by an indifferent universe. And if I were to voice these thoughts aloud, would anyone take me seriously? Or would they offer that infuriatingly gentle practiced smile, tilt their heads with feigned concern, and suggest in honeyed tones that it's all merely the theater of my imagination?
It is 3PM, and yet it bears the weight of a dawn moving like a river in winter an hour suspended between sleep and consciousness, between recollection and reality. Here, time is malleable, its edges soft and fraying. The very notion of nearness mocks me, as though it were a promise made only to be broken. Everything I long for resides just beyond reach, just beyond reason, like a silhouette retreating behind a door that was never meant to open for me. A most exquisite hour, truly, to revisit the wreckage of past errors, each one replayed like a film I never agreed direct.
There is no one to call. No comforting chaos to clutch in trembling hands. No glass of forgetfulness to cast the blame upon. There is only this moment deceptively serene. Even then I can hear it and it swears. I hear it as clearly as my own thoughts. And still, I stay. Not because I want to. But because there are things I owe. Promises I never got see through to the end, duties I didn’t choose, a sense of purpose so fragile it might shatter if I took a step in the wrong direction.
Still, I remain. Not out of desire, nor devotion, but because I am tethered by undeclared obligations: debts never paid, promises left half-spoken, and duties inherited like fragile heirlooms that would shatter should I falter even slightly.
And what I crave? what I ache for? It is not joy, nor triumph, but oblivion laced with mercy. To dissolve into a nothingness so complete it erases the ache. To feel hollowness inside and out uninterrupted by my vessel. Not for eternity. Just long enough to inhale without guilt. Just long enough to exhale without breaking.
Perhaps light and shadow are not adversaries, but twin swords swung by the same blue spirit, A double-ended spear drawn in and exhaled by an indifferent universe. And if I were to voice these thoughts aloud, would anyone take me seriously? Or would they offer that infuriatingly gentle practiced smile, tilt their heads with feigned concern, and suggest in honeyed tones that it's all merely the theater of my imagination?
It is 3PM, and yet it bears the weight of a dawn moving like a river in winter an hour suspended between sleep and consciousness, between recollection and reality. Here, time is malleable, its edges soft and fraying. The very notion of nearness mocks me, as though it were a promise made only to be broken. Everything I long for resides just beyond reach, just beyond reason, like a silhouette retreating behind a door that was never meant to open for me. A most exquisite hour, truly, to revisit the wreckage of past errors, each one replayed like a film I never agreed direct.
There is no one to call. No comforting chaos to clutch in trembling hands. No glass of forgetfulness to cast the blame upon. There is only this moment deceptively serene. Even then I can hear it and it swears. I hear it as clearly as my own thoughts. And still, I stay. Not because I want to. But because there are things I owe. Promises I never got see through to the end, duties I didn’t choose, a sense of purpose so fragile it might shatter if I took a step in the wrong direction.
Still, I remain. Not out of desire, nor devotion, but because I am tethered by undeclared obligations: debts never paid, promises left half-spoken, and duties inherited like fragile heirlooms that would shatter should I falter even slightly.
And what I crave? what I ache for? It is not joy, nor triumph, but oblivion laced with mercy. To dissolve into a nothingness so complete it erases the ache. To feel hollowness inside and out uninterrupted by my vessel. Not for eternity. Just long enough to inhale without guilt. Just long enough to exhale without breaking.
❤3
I need to stay outside as much as I can because I become this shitty ass human whenever I stay home. I ditched the library, and the room is eating me alive. I need to go out I don't need to be left alone with my thoughts I need to be in public not with people but somewhere where I can not lock my self up.
It's eating me alive.
Shitty day I tell you, shitty day.
It's eating me alive.
Shitty day I tell you, shitty day.
❤8
june 8- you texted me “happy birthday.”
june 9 - you chopped your hair and showed me. i complimented it. then i left you on seen.
june 10 - you died.
june 11- you were buried.
june 12 - i got a phone call. they told me you had died. i couldn’t process it. i was in denial. i spent the whole class checking our old messages, just reading them over and over. i texted your best friend, thinking she might need help more than i did. then i went to dad’s work so i could go home with him.
when dad asked if i had eaten, i said no. he started getting mad. i started crying not because i was hungry, but because he was mad. i couldn’t stop. he stopped and asked what was wrong. i told him a friend had died. he couldn’t say a word. he just rubbed my shoulder, asked me about your parents i understand why he would ask that,
he was silent after that i knew what he was thinking about.
when i got home, i went straight to my room and tried to sleep. i couldn’t. i remembered i hadn’t eaten all day, so i went to the kitchen, heated food, ate, and tried again. this time i slept.
june 13- when i woke up, it hit me harder. i decided to ignore it. my friend called and asked if i wanted to go to a prayer ceremony for you. i couldn’t. it would mean processing it with other people, and i was tired of grief. i felt it wasn’t my space. i told myself i was selfish, that i’d made it about me. i’d had enough grief inside me already. i didn’t want to add more. i couldn’t cry anymore.
june 14- suppress.
june 15 - ignore.
june 16 - suppress. ignore. move on.
i wanted to delete everything my account, our messages but it’s still there. i keep reading it over and over. you had put me on a pedestal i never deserved. you told me you loved everything i did, and you showed it. i don’t want to be carried anymore. i don’t want to carry anyone anymore. i tell myself i’m selfish. i disappear because of it.
august 9- i was walking home from the library with a friend. i stopped to take money from the atm. when i pulled out my wallet, a picture of my friend slipped out. i told him, “that’s my best friend. my first friend the one who is in aastu”
then i asked if he had friends here
he said he had one, but he died last year. he spoke about him with such honesty, such confidence. i admired that. i couldn’t say anything what do you respond with, i was too weak to do the same.
we started talking about death.
death has been my special topic this year. i think of it every day. i didn’t plan to mention you again i thought it wasn’t my space but you came up anyway. i thought you were just a fraction even tho that fraction still pokes me right in the heart.
i felt sorry for your friends, but i was your friend too right?. i hate feeling sorry for myself. i hate anything that makes me look weak. but i tend to reflect my weaknesses back because people find it funny. people want to be a “stronger” version of themselves around me when i talk with people, i notice i make myself small. i’m only my true self with a few ones i am fragile. that’s how i was with dealt with losing you but i ignored it losing you i didn’t want to use that as an excuse for weakness. yet, this time, i truly was weak.
i’m sorry.
i feel sorry for you.
i feel sorry for myself.
the world was cruel to you, but i admired your eyes they always searched for cracks of light, even when none were there. you were strong. the things you went through, how you dusted yourself off like nothing happened
i am proud of you. i will always look up to you.
i should have been the one to put you on a pedestal, not the other way around. i hate that you were taken just when things were going well for you. i hate that i never saw you thrive on your own.
you were beautiful, inside and out.
i love you.
i will always think of you.
this is me finally admitting to myself.
june 9 - you chopped your hair and showed me. i complimented it. then i left you on seen.
june 10 - you died.
june 11- you were buried.
june 12 - i got a phone call. they told me you had died. i couldn’t process it. i was in denial. i spent the whole class checking our old messages, just reading them over and over. i texted your best friend, thinking she might need help more than i did. then i went to dad’s work so i could go home with him.
when dad asked if i had eaten, i said no. he started getting mad. i started crying not because i was hungry, but because he was mad. i couldn’t stop. he stopped and asked what was wrong. i told him a friend had died. he couldn’t say a word. he just rubbed my shoulder, asked me about your parents i understand why he would ask that,
he was silent after that i knew what he was thinking about.
when i got home, i went straight to my room and tried to sleep. i couldn’t. i remembered i hadn’t eaten all day, so i went to the kitchen, heated food, ate, and tried again. this time i slept.
june 13- when i woke up, it hit me harder. i decided to ignore it. my friend called and asked if i wanted to go to a prayer ceremony for you. i couldn’t. it would mean processing it with other people, and i was tired of grief. i felt it wasn’t my space. i told myself i was selfish, that i’d made it about me. i’d had enough grief inside me already. i didn’t want to add more. i couldn’t cry anymore.
june 14- suppress.
june 15 - ignore.
june 16 - suppress. ignore. move on.
i wanted to delete everything my account, our messages but it’s still there. i keep reading it over and over. you had put me on a pedestal i never deserved. you told me you loved everything i did, and you showed it. i don’t want to be carried anymore. i don’t want to carry anyone anymore. i tell myself i’m selfish. i disappear because of it.
august 9- i was walking home from the library with a friend. i stopped to take money from the atm. when i pulled out my wallet, a picture of my friend slipped out. i told him, “that’s my best friend. my first friend the one who is in aastu”
then i asked if he had friends here
he said he had one, but he died last year. he spoke about him with such honesty, such confidence. i admired that. i couldn’t say anything what do you respond with, i was too weak to do the same.
we started talking about death.
death has been my special topic this year. i think of it every day. i didn’t plan to mention you again i thought it wasn’t my space but you came up anyway. i thought you were just a fraction even tho that fraction still pokes me right in the heart.
i felt sorry for your friends, but i was your friend too right?. i hate feeling sorry for myself. i hate anything that makes me look weak. but i tend to reflect my weaknesses back because people find it funny. people want to be a “stronger” version of themselves around me when i talk with people, i notice i make myself small. i’m only my true self with a few ones i am fragile. that’s how i was with dealt with losing you but i ignored it losing you i didn’t want to use that as an excuse for weakness. yet, this time, i truly was weak.
i’m sorry.
i feel sorry for you.
i feel sorry for myself.
the world was cruel to you, but i admired your eyes they always searched for cracks of light, even when none were there. you were strong. the things you went through, how you dusted yourself off like nothing happened
i am proud of you. i will always look up to you.
i should have been the one to put you on a pedestal, not the other way around. i hate that you were taken just when things were going well for you. i hate that i never saw you thrive on your own.
you were beautiful, inside and out.
i love you.
i will always think of you.
this is me finally admitting to myself.
❤23
Forwarded from Scribe your soul out
I think the only way I cope is when I talk about nonsense nonstop, and someday I might be caught on the bs and no longer do that anymore.
Get a life?
But I don't need one.
Yehem alchalkutm Lela.
That's it good night.
But I don't need one.
Yehem alchalkutm Lela.
That's it good night.
😭4
Yk what hate my life right now. I can't stand this place. I hate the weakness I feel and how I fight to see things clearly. I also feel foiled by my own selfishness, which seems to be a part of me. I hate whatever is inside me that makes me feel this way.
The tiniest bit of joy I experience comes with a raging bit of anger.
The tiniest bit of joy I experience comes with a raging bit of anger.
❤12
Forwarded from Haha? (dehydrated human)
the internet will rightfully lead you to believe that anyone who is “mid” (a benevolent term coined by the internet to humanize ugly people) will struggle to make friends, find love, be successful at work, and secure happiness in this life. yes, all the “mids” can hope for is a swift death and expeditious reincarnation into a bug where the mere concept of self is but a distant dream. ah! it’s simply part of the Burden we uglies must bear: not only must we covet the charmed existence of our comely human neighbors, we are doomed to seethe at the blissful ignorance of the toads, roaches, grubs and other vermin only marginally less attractive than ourselves. we are truly god’s worst creation.
🔥2
Forwarded from Haha? (dehydrated human)
Haha?
the internet will rightfully lead you to believe that anyone who is “mid” (a benevolent term coined by the internet to humanize ugly people) will struggle to make friends, find love, be successful at work, and secure happiness in this life. yes, all the “mids”…
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