Whats-in-a-username

How will you remember me ?

Will you remember me

By the times I told you I loved you or by the times that I showed you the same?

Cause if it's former geez I'm sorry, I hope you reminisce the latter.

Will you remember me

When you see my favorite flower or by the scent of my favorite perfume?

If it's the former I left you a plant and the latter in a box among your clothes.

Will you remember me

By the silly fights i picked or by the number of times I apologized?

If it's former or the latter, maybe you should remember me by something else.

Will you remember me

By my imperfections, will you remember all of my flaws?

I hope it's both former and latter, cause those are the parts of me that loved you the most.

Will you remember me

When you play our videos or will you hear my voice as you read this?

If it's former you better save it forever, if it's later I wish it never fades.

Will you remember me

After a year, will you remember us after a decade?

I tried to leave back pieces of me, because I'm scared of you forgetting the latter.

Shit Slytherins Say: #254

Ok no offense, but some of us *looks pointedly at self in mirror* need to fucking chill

disquiet

A piece of me is always missing, Like the last block of lego that I can never seem to find One empty space right in the center of the jigsaw puzzle. I'm not sure if I lost it along the way. I'm not sure if I'm yet to find it. But lately, the gap seems more blatant. I'm anxious that it's visible to the people around me. That when they look at me, they see half a person. It's almost like I'm mimicking a being While I'm on the quest for the missing elements.

Sometimes, everything is wholesome! Golden skies, daisies, moongazing, Dusty libraries where ghosts of dead poets linger, Tight hugs, acts that mean "I'm thinking of you.", I look at my picture with my friends, smiling ear to ear And the jigsaw puzzle is complete. (or it was, then.) Some memories in me are so perfect that, The missing lego piece starts to feel like an extra piece From the table, you're trying to put together. It works fine without it, and there's nowhere to put it.

Then I'm back in my bed, back in my head. And I cannot remember how to be a whole person again I eat chocolate until I'm nauseated Or I never draw the curtains open and let the light flow through. I want to live life to the fullest, I never want to be seen in public again, I want all-consuming love, I want to believe I'm worthy of it, I want to feel complete when I'm alone, I want someone to feel complete with.

I want and I want and I want… Socrates said, (Yes, I went there) "He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have." What about, She who is never content with who she is? What about me?

he is half my soul.

the song of achilles by madeleine miller // work song by hozier // unsourced image // achilles come down by gang of youths // unsourced image

ACTS OF SERVICE by judas h.

“I like the idea of a motto,“ she goes on. “I think an inspirational quote can get you through hard times.” “Like what?” asks Gat. Mirren pauses. Then she says: “Be a little kinder than you have to.” We are all silenced by that. It seems impossible to argue with. Then Johnny says, “Never eat anything bigger than your ass.” “You ate something bigger than your ass?” I ask. He nods, solemn.

"What is stronger than the human heart Which shatters over and over and still lives."

🪄 ✨

SCRIBBLE AND SCRATCH

With a cup of tea, a pen, and my book

I sat to write at my favorite nook.

Head filled with voices trying to get out,

And a heart humming with tunes of doubt.

I scribble, and scratch then my words fade,

As I suppress the thoughts that make me afraid.

So I go back to the books that give me relief.

To find my answers within someone else's grief.

There are many problems within these books.

And in that world, solutions aren't mine to look

Within worn-out, annotated, and yellow pages,

I forget my fright as I did for ages.

Soon I'm drawn back to my nook

Holding on to empty pages of the notebook

I scribble, and scratch but the words don't fade

For I've let my thoughts out of its shade.