Forwarded from Unresolved Issues
They told me not to speak unless spoken to. I refused to listen. I wanted to be loud, even when nothing I said mattered. Even when my thoughts changed direction like the wind. Even when most of my philosophies were borrowed. It felt good to let the words out, to expel the energy, to scream, even when no one was there to hear me. It felt good to give in to gravity, to fall onto the decaying forest floor, even when no one was there to see me hit the ground.
It felt good, until it didn’t. Until I craved a witness. A friendly ear. Until I felt like I was walking backward through a crowd moving the opposite way, jostled and shoved in every direction. So I turned too. I turned their way, tucked my words into my heart, silenced my thoughts, strangled my opinions. And the more I kept quiet, the less I had to say.
They told me I’d be a better listener if I spoke less. But I hardly listened. The less I spoke, the less my neurons fired. Silence didn’t make me wise; it made me hollow. Not just my words but my very existence faded into stillness. I became a stone in an even stiller lake. A weight sinking without a ripple.
And in the deafening noise of the world, I kept losing myself. The memory of my voice faded. The power of my convictions withered. I disappeared. I died.
Because I was most alive when I was screaming. When my words meant less than hay but still burned with the fervor of a prophet foretelling the end of the world. I was more alive when I was loud than when I was accepted, swallowed whole, digested, remade into something pliable. They cut out my tongue, painted my lips red and showed me how to smile through the pain, like they learned to do.
#i_dont_know_what_this_is_atp
It felt good, until it didn’t. Until I craved a witness. A friendly ear. Until I felt like I was walking backward through a crowd moving the opposite way, jostled and shoved in every direction. So I turned too. I turned their way, tucked my words into my heart, silenced my thoughts, strangled my opinions. And the more I kept quiet, the less I had to say.
They told me I’d be a better listener if I spoke less. But I hardly listened. The less I spoke, the less my neurons fired. Silence didn’t make me wise; it made me hollow. Not just my words but my very existence faded into stillness. I became a stone in an even stiller lake. A weight sinking without a ripple.
And in the deafening noise of the world, I kept losing myself. The memory of my voice faded. The power of my convictions withered. I disappeared. I died.
Because I was most alive when I was screaming. When my words meant less than hay but still burned with the fervor of a prophet foretelling the end of the world. I was more alive when I was loud than when I was accepted, swallowed whole, digested, remade into something pliable. They cut out my tongue, painted my lips red and showed me how to smile through the pain, like they learned to do.
#i_dont_know_what_this_is_atp
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“So therefore I dedicate myself to myself, to my art, my sleep, my dreams, my labors, my sufferances, my loneliness, my unique madness, my endless absorption and hunger because I cannot dedicate myself to any fellow being.”
— Jack Kerouac
— Jack Kerouac
Is that why I kissed you?
Was it for this that I suffered, loving,
So that now it is calm and tired
Remember you with disgust?
Anna Akhmatova
1914
Was it for this that I suffered, loving,
So that now it is calm and tired
Remember you with disgust?
Anna Akhmatova
1914
very proud to announce that I am officially a lost cause. thank you all for your continued support unfortunately it was all for nothing
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I still wonder what our generation would do that is worthy of putting on history books and all. Cuz I can't even name a single thing we did as a generation.
Polkadot
Some ppl are beautiful as the sea but they ask to be flowers
And wanna die in vessel