Every Time

You haven’t called

You haven’t called, so the last time you did I fell right back asleep. I keep telling myself, this is for the better.

You called again, I shifted my time to be spent with someone who actually cared. I’m happier now.

I keep telling myself to let you go. But I feel so mean forcing myself to say goodbye, so I tell myself to take it slow. And I’m not gonna lie, this distance, is making me feel sick to my bones.

God. I sound like a bitch, but you’re the one who told me sometimes I need to be more of one. So I’m sorry if I need to be one for you.

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

Just wanted to tell you that you’re doing amazing! Keep up being the best YOU that you can be!!

Thank you so much!! This made my day!! This is incredibly sweet!

Why am I the exception?

I should’ve seen it from the start, perhaps I was always a henchman sent to do your biddings. but when it came to my knees being scraped, I got up on my own. I covered my cuts with bandages I found used on the side of the road. or maybe I was seeking comfort in places where I shouldn't have. I always do this. I'm so naive. I wish I didn't fall for every nicety. Sometimes I wish I was meaner. But it hurts me to be mean, and it hurts to be nice to myself too.

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

Thank you lovely!

I wish I was loved by you like the way you loved your loved ones.

I wish I was loved by you like the way you loved your loved ones. And it's funny but I should’ve read the signs, we were never as close as I thought we were. I admired you. I looked up to you. and that's where it stopped. That's where I should've realized that everything would've never been reciprocated.

Fingertips were always barely touching the glass it peered though. And maybe just maybe, I was the object on the other side, surrounded by long panes of glass, unable to escape. Maybe I was meant to be observed by you, but never truly loved by you.

It’s been 8 months now and I haven’t heard a word from you. I hope you know I miss you. But it’s time I stop trying. No more waiting to hear your voice, for invites on nights where I get lonely, on days where it’s rainy & the sun won’t shine. I've had enough. and I hope everything I gave you was enough. Because maybe truly, I’m meant to be alone to be able to finally break down the glass.

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.

like I’m five again

I hear the distinct footsteps across hallway floors, voices ricocheting off thin walls, cabinets slammed with force, and the door of the fridge being thrown off its hinges.

“I thought we moved passed this”, a thought that runs across my mind often. But it seems like we haven’t, and I’m hiding in the depths of my closet with puffy eyes, arms with scars, and knees to my heart. like I’m five again.

Every scream and yell triggers a shake from my bones, clattering from the last meal I had last night. Teeth clenched in aptitude and tears falling down with every hitch. like I’m five again.

I double check if my door is locked & if I have enough blocking it by force. Because words are words and threats are threats, but actions to end my life are much quicker.

So quietly I hide back in the nook of my darkened closet, tears so quiet that only the ants can hear them. Hiding this part of my life like it’s another Tuesday morning, smile gracing my hallow cheeks, and telling myself everything will go back to normal. because it’s just like I’m five again.

Depression makes me feel like a dull knife, you know you can still use it but it’s still dull even after it’s sharpened. Try as much as you can, use as much force as you need but the knife will always be, dull. Maybe you’re too lazy to sharpen it thoroughly, maybe you’re too attached to let it go. So it sits there. In your drawer beside the newly sharpened knives, unused, useless, and there in memoriam.

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.