9divine9

Latest Posts by 9divine9

I’m sorry

I’m sorry you think about wanting to d!e everyday. I’m sorry that life has been so hard that to you, that’s the only answer.

I’m sorry that to me, that’s the only answer through this pain is eternal slumber. And I understand, I don’t see an answer out either.

Hey, you’re awesome and I just want you know that! OKbye!

💗

I cry so much

I cry so much that I’m tired of seeing myself in the mirror. Eyes swollen and chest swelling with gasps of air.

I’m not sure how I’ve gotten this far yet regressed back so much to the point I’ve lost who I am.

I’ve failed myself, and especially my younger self.

So what’s the point in crying? I’m over that too.

Over myself & every little thing I fought for.

I remember

I remember how he looked, his hand on my bed and the other on my shoulder. His yellowed thick smile laced with the smell of beer and sweat.

I remember the words whispering out of his mouth, silent and slow— as the door remained locked. My anxiety creeping up above my shoulders and staying constant in my bones.

I was four, I was nine, I was ten, I was thirteen, I was twenty-one.

I was twenty-two,

I remember a cop ever so silently looking me up & down. My anxiety shaking my hands and reeling my stomach into itself.

I remember, everyday, I remember.

your eyes are swollen.

yes I know, I’ve always been this way.

your wrists are scarred.

yes I know, they’ve been holding my pain.

your cheeks are hallow.

yes I know, my stomach has been turned inside out.

your ribs are showing.

yes I know, they poke out of my shirt.

Now you know, I’ve just always been this way. and this is how things have always been.

no one actually reads this blog so I hope my casual writing dumps here & there somehow, somewhere get appreciated. 🤍 xx

my wrists are tinier than the size of a water bottle, veins peering blue and green as they wrap around what so little of what holds me together.

they hold scars on them, deep and some that are fading.

so I wear long sleeves, on days where the sun blasts and burns my cheeks red and tan.

my scars sometimes glisten when my palms brush against the steel strings of a brown stained guitar. and it tingles like the lines on the calluses of my fingertips.

hands that have seen so much greif. elbows protruded with bones that are sharp as knives.

with the gust of the wind, I could break. and I pray for that everyday.

I told someone I wanted to d!e today, and I thought they would help me feel better. But I didn’t feel anything. And neither did they.

Maybe this is the sign I needed today.

every time

every time I think I’m doing a bit better, someone has to stay something ten times worse that makes me regress back into the depths of hell that took me so long to get out of.

or maybe I’m just blaming everyone except me. so like always, the guilt eats me up inside.

I wish you were nicer, I wish I was too. But it’s funny when I speak like you do, then I’m the b!tch instead of you.

Your eyebrows raise with questions that are rhetorical. But when I follow suit I’m suddenly the b!tch that gained an attitude.

those were my friends first

I know I shouldn’t be jealous, or even think this way— but those were my friends first. I showed you my world, my closed rooms, and people that loved me for me.

and now, I’m walking alone behind you dragging my weight on the sidewalk as you hold their hand right in front of me.

I should probably blame myself though, for wanting you just for me. But I thought we would stick together, butter & glue. and I thought you wouldn’t leave me behind.

As I pull myself away— I linger for you, waiting for you to knock on my door. Hearing me cry against the wall, tears staining the carpet.

But this time I’m not fooling anyone, and there’s no one waiting. There’s no one on the other side of the door. You’ve left. Because you’re tired. And I don’t blame you.

So instead you’re with my friends— the last people I talked to before I buried myself into a cold cave. and as always, I’ll blame myself.

My mom’s worried

my mom’s worried that I haven’t eaten for the last 24 hours, she’s right— I haven’t.

probably even longer.

she’s right to be worried, I mean, if I was her I’d think I was starving to d!e. she’d be right.

I think she knows.

Does a mom know? Does she want to know?

I’m at a point where I don’t care. I just want to end my misery— by hoping I drown in a pool of my tears, waiting for the water to burn my skin until it uncovers the raw bone that’s peering out of my elbows every time I breathe a bit harder.

Just let me end it already.

Thank you for being you. Sending lots of hugs and good vibes your way!

needed this today! thank you!

wanting to fade away

wanting to fade away forever is like waiting for the wall of paint to dry— staring at it until your eyes burn red with dryness, and your legs are cramping with every breath.

it's wanting to solve every problem with the solution of not being here anymore, waiting until you fall and your bones crash with the cement.

it's crying until your throat turns within itself and you can't breathe and you're forced to scream inside yourself. it's crying when you get a breeze of air in your hair, and your cheeks turn cold because they've been hallowed out by being so gaunt.

i've been wanting to fade away recently.

i wait

i wait by the mailbox everyday, hoping, wishing, that maybe a letter will show up. a letter professing their love back to me, their appreciation of my existence. maybe, just maybe, it's all in my head. how i'm not meant to be here. how i'm not worthy enough of being loved. of how their blank stares are just words of judgement of how i'm so much better off without them. and yeah, maybe theyre right. i am better off without them. but somehow i just can't let go. maybe, i'm used to the thorns on the stem of the flowers they give me. the dead, burnt, crisp, flowers.

I’ve gotten used to being treated this way

I’ve gotten used to being ignored, of having my hellos be greeted with rolled eyes.

I’ve gotten used to my palms being stained with ink from letters I stayed up writing until dawn, waiting by the mailbox just to never get any letters written back.

I’ve gotten used to being as nice as I can be, and getting called unauthentic.

I’ve gotten used to you ignoring me as we pass through the hallway, as I sat alone on graduation day holding my own hand because no one wanted to hold mine.

I’ve gotten used to always being the one who messages first, and waiting for a reply until a new moon passes us by.

But maybe it’s time I get used to loving myself enough, to not make myself endure all of this. When will it be my turn to grow? To be apart from your shadow? Maybe it’s time to let go.

I believe in you! And unicorns, but mostly you! Just wanted to send you a smile today :)

Thank you lovely!

When will it be my turn?

when will it be my turn to get a call, a text from you saying you appreciate me?

I don’t know. But these days seem grim, and my solitude is my only solution, resulting only in sadness.

maybe I’m a monster on a hill, a teddy bear trapped in a dollhouse, a ring settling for a pinky. and everything I do isn’t enough for us

I hope— one day I won’t overthink this like I always do.

comfortable with being forgotten

I’m getting comfortable with being forgotten, at least, I hope I am. There are moments I stay up late at night crying, wondering if you’ll ever be the first to text me if I’m alright. But then again, I don’t know if I even come across your mind.

I wish— I wasn’t this way. I wish— you cared when i needed you most. And I know you say you do, but I don’t actually feel it, see it.

So now maybe it’s time to be comfortable with being forgotten by you. I hope wherever your new path takes you, you’re happier than when you are with me.

he loves you more than you know

i can tell, and maybe I shouldn't spell it out. speak what's so blatant. it's true honestly— this dance that could gravitate towards the middle of any ballroom. the eyes that never leave one another, the arms that stay constantly intertwined. and i hate that i was so blind, i hate myself for being so naively blind. and i hate that i let myself think i could even get between that. i'm not special. i'm not the person you call when you fall. it's him, and it will always be him. and i'll never be the man you need me to be. do you know he loves you more than you know? i saw him kiss you on a tuesday afternoon, and i knew, i just knew— what you didn't want to speak into existence. unfortunately— i'm gentle, soft, quiet, and i will never be half of what he is. so i'll stop here, i'll stop being strung along by you. i love you, but maybe, never as much as him.

Whenever I wait for you

whenever I wait for you, you never show. whenever you say you wanted to talk, you never ask.

whenever I asked for you to be there, you never came.

whenever I gave you a gift, I never got one. whenever I made time for you, you were too busy.

and maybe— i do this to myself because i hate myself. maybe i'm just meant to be unloved by people i want to love me. maybe i just overthink every little thing, and at the end of it all i'm just not meant to be with you.

I wonder if you know

I wonder if you know which song is about you, which letter is written for you, which smile comes from you, which gift under the millions were from me.

Wait no— you don’t actually pay attention. Because last time I asked how you liked the gift I sent you, you forgot it was from me. So, I stopped asking.

So, I stopped texting, stopped calling. and there was silence without your laughter. Laughs that weren't meant for me.

I skipped so that you could have it

I skipped lunch because this week we couldn't afford groceries, so i put back the butter on the conveyer belt so it wouldn't scan towards the $10 i had in my pocket. I skipped breakfast and lunch so they wouldn't worry about how many bowls they had left for dinner, as my stomach ached in pain and I could feel it in my throat. my stomach turned itself around until I had to lay back down to be able to feel the ground again. head reeling, face flushed, and eyes rolling over until the dizziness made me feel numb. i skipped the thought of wanting to eat so no one would worry if the food was about to go to waste, and be wasted on me particularly. how many bowls until i'm actually done with the thought of having to think about the next bowl and how many bowls we could have altogether.

I had assumed

My bad— I had assumed we were closer than I thought we were. nights holding hands as the cold air crisped our noses, tears running down my face, arms intertwined, and your jacket on my shoulders.

I’m sorry— I had assumed we were close. nights crying on the phone until the sun rose to remind us to go back to bed. nights on the bench crying until 3am because he dumped you for another athlete.

I fear— I’ve assumed we were close. days sitting on the grass unveiling our fears that we’ve never told anyone else. laughing until we told ourselves it’s not worth it to k-ll ourselves right now.

I didn’t know— we weren’t as close as you said we were. And I’m sorry, I didn’t catch myself sooner.

fingertips

my fingertips barely touch the surface of the mirror, in what reflects my most vivid of dreams. to be loved, touched like I’m a secret that’s meant to be told, and a reflection that’s seen but never meant to be shown.

i imagine what it feels to be admired, to match an energy so surreal my dreams can’t even begin to create a scene so magical. so what is it? will i ever be loved, respected, praised, or celebrated?

my fingertips have calluses from wrists bruised with scars deeper than stains. calluses so thick I can’t feel what I want to, and I don’t know how to react. to myself, to the world, and to anything at all.

so I shout, and I scream. and no one hears anything. maybe one day, I’ll be able to finally feel something.

I’ve forgotten myself recently

I’ve forgotten myself recently, I lost who I wanted to be. Or maybe I’ve never known who I am.

I know my weaknesses. I’m quiet, tired, soft, gentle, fragile, and an observer of those opposite of that. I yearn to find the confidence that lies in being outspoken, energetic, proud, and stable.

Maybe one day, I’ll find myself.

I woke up today

I woke up today hoping it’d be much better, but the war in my head brought me back down. The rain poured down and my heart started to ache. I picked up a pen and wrote until I cried myself to sleep.

My eyes grow weary of the salt that burn them every night, of the thoughts that are branded into the depths of my brain, of how unworthy I am of just being.

I dreamt of drifting away until I could no longer feel my feet, until my thoughts were filled with raindrops that cleaned away the ash.

I had hoped again, today would be different. and maybe tomorrow my hopes will come true.

I let it slide

I let it slide because I know you’re going through a lot. I let it slide because I assume you’re having a bad day. I let you say sorry without hesitation because I miss you on days when I get lonely. I let it slide because I’ve known you. You, who drops everything just to be by their side. I let it slide because it really wasn’t that serious. I let it slide and let myself cry in the shower sitting in the bathtub wishing I didn’t let it get to me. I let it slide and cried myself to sleep hoping tomorrow I’d get over it. And again and again I’ll let it slide, because I’m just the girl who’s expected to take it all in. time and time again.

I wish I was loved

I wish I was loved, unconditionally. through days when my energy sucks up a room with my blank eyes. through moments when I’m too scared to speak up for myself. through times when I want to speak my mind and instead keep quiet because I’m scared of being alone. through thoughts of wanting to run falling off a cliff when I can’t take it anymore. through my soft voice screaming to be heard when the winds push me off my feet.

I want to— love myself unconditionally. through days where i want to give up and yell at myself to do better, be better. I wish, I loved, unconditionally.

i keep crying

i keep crying at the littlest things, and i cry that i do that to myself. i let every little thing tear me down and break me until i feel like i'm worth nothing. but who do i have if i keep making these walls so my feelings don't get hurt. who do i have if i can't let myself experience anything?

i don't know. who DO i have? if i can't even believe in myself or anyone to not make me cry. and then again it's all me, always me and my feelings that i feel too heavily.

some days

some days i get so lonely, but i also get so tired from saying hello. so i stare at the wall. the nice, blank, non-talkative wall. and it stares back at me. shining the sun in its reflection, letting the moon take its color. and days pass by. and still, i sit there staring at the wall. waiting, watching, my life pass me by.

so there i remain. staring at a wall that won't hurt my feelings, won't say i'm not enough, and won't take me for granted.