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My Boyfriend Pt. 1
I think it’s a lovely thing sometimes
Being in a relationship that is pseudo-platonic.
Like sure, he’s my boyfriend
But he doesn’t care who I kiss, and I don’t care who he does
He is constantly warm, and I’m a perpetually shivering anemic.
And we don’t go on dates, still, the longest we’ve gone without texting since we met is 13 hours
And when we’re together, there’s not really doubt that we’re eachothers favourite
I like having him asleep on my shoulder
We balance out to be just enough, always, I think
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I’d like to pretend I never think of you
But maybe I do look out the window tonight and wonder if you kept your promises
I wonder if maybe tonight you’re out in your beat up gray expedition
I wonder who you’re with
Sometimes I imagine that you do the same
Sometimes I hope you know that I kept that promise
I wonder whether you’d approve of who I am now
I wonder whether I approve of who you are.
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I grew up, promise
And I lost the weight
And I finally got what you said I’d never have
And just like a sh!t movie, I don’t come crawling back
Not because I don’t want to
God you know I do
But because I promised I wouldn’t
And I could never disappoint you.
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Tbh I would probably give anything to go back to sitting on my grandmas couch watching NCIS
#nostalgia#ncis#tbh#nostalgic#also were you really an ncis kid if you didn’t have a crush on Dinozzo and Abby?#my favorite episodes are ‘twisted sister’ ‘chimera’ and ‘cover story’
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God I hate being goth and living in an isolated island town, like, I doubt there’s a single goth club in my entire state let alone within a 50 mile radius.
#gothic#goth club#goth aesthetic#goth#i wouldnt have it any other way#but things like this make me reconsider living here
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Do I want to be the one smoking cigarettes?
While the musician plays a song which fully embodies the way they see the smoke unfurl like flowing silk lace from off my lips
Am I the charcoal on the hands of the artist?
Smudged across heavy paper unwillingly, each stroke art in itself, the artist will not be happy with the work, he will wash his hands of me
Can I be the lover?
Who speaks about their love in such ways that it becomes art, the most enviable kind, according to those who do not have it
Since I cannot, I will be the ever dwelling creative,
The kind that chose their muse upon meeting them, and even as stares became glances, continues to chronicle the beauty of the only standard they will ever believe as art. Their interests become parallels for their muse, their words become vague (or grotesquely specific) descriptions of their muse in every subject. Their muse will never know their impact on the art (or the artist)
And when the artist gains accord, they will credit it all to their muse, when the art gets studied, gets critiqued, is dissected by the vulturesque journals. They will resent that no one can see, in their spiralling melodies, or in the striking brushstrokes, the eyes of the only true art in the world- not created by hands of this earth, but created entirely by gorgeous circumstances,
The muse can never know- but they must sense, in some fashion, that their likeness, or perhaps, a small portion of their being, became an entire aspect of another person.
Maybe, it is good they do not know.
Maybe, they should stay to sit and smoke their lace-filled cigarettes, and spare not a thought about me.
#poem#poetry#love#muse#artist#short story#sorry about the punctuation#i tried#why does anyone let me post the stuff I write at 2:17 in the morning#brainrot
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My room is hot
And it won’t stop being hot
My thighs are flesh
And it won’t leave my bones
My heartbeat makes me real
And it makes my head spin
I just want to be typical
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How do I call myself a lover like you do?
I have never ever saw halos above heads
I have never ever wanted to say ‘love u g’nite’
I don’t hold hands
I don’t say sweet things
I want to wear warm sweaters
And I want to read your favorite poems
I want to go to your concerts
I want to listen to you practice your instrument
I want to be impressed by you
Call you pretty, like green glass bottles
Kiss you until I’m disgusted with the thought
How do I call myself a lover when I don’t love like you do?
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Snow makes everything eerily silent.
The news said three feet
And for the first time they underestimated,
Because now four and a half feet of snow weigh down the branches of spruce behind my house
So four and a half feet of silence weigh down on my mind
It suffocates my words
And yet, like icicles once again on streetlights
I form thoughts I’ve formed before, slowly in my mind
They grow, and they sharpen, and before I know it they shatter my ground.
It plunges me into icy worries I do not need
The snow becomes too silent
Icicles are too sharp
Ice is too thick, or worse, too thin
The sky becomes too dark
And yet I let the silence in
I let the silence win.
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Omg I never expected other people to see my lil post about difficulties and stigma around auditory processing disorder, but some people did and here we are.
Tbh I really want to hear from other people with apd, and their experiences, cause I’ve actually never met another person with severe apd, so here’s a list of 10 questions if any of my fellow apd people wanna answer some!
1: when did you (or those around you) realize there was something up with your hearing?
2: does your apd come with other neurodivergency?
3: does your apd also come with specifically synesthesia?
4: what resources and accommodations have you found help best?
5: which headphones are better, in ear or outer ear?
6: how do you explain apd to those around you?
7: what is the worst thing about apd?
8: what is the best thing about apd?
9: which is worse, repetitive noises or loud noises?
10: do other people in your family have apd?
Thanks so much to anyone who responds, y’all are helping me feel less isolated!
#auditory processing problems#auditory processing issues#auditory#apd#auditory processing disorder#invisable disability#hidden disability#neurodivergent#synesthesia
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This is nowhere near what I usually post, but can I just rant and express how fvcking annoying it is to have really severe auditory processing disorder? Like, it’s bad enough I have to wear hearing aids (they don’t make it louder, they do some suppression and isolation) + headphones all the time, and I still have to read lips when I do that, but apparently I’m “being dramatic” because I “don’t actually have any hearing problems” because I can hear, but what does it matter that I can hear if I don’t know what I’m hearing???
And you get shit from both deaf and hearing people, like deaf & HOH people telling you to “stop using our services,” and “well… but you don’t actually know what it’s like to have hearing problems,” like… yes I do??? also like, Ive really wanted to learn ASL for a long time, so that maybe, just maybe I can communicate without issues, but in the class for hearing people at my local disability services area, they always talk to teach so I couldn’t understand, yet apparently I wasn’t eligible for the non talking course with subtitles???
Not to mention, teachers not believing you, people thinking you’re stupid, people in general not believing you have hearing issues because “you listen to music” and “you sound so normal” and having to constantly explain that you have to see someone’s face to understand what they’re saying and you’ll still get it wrong a lot.
Of course I’m not saying that I’m deaf or hard of hearing, I’m just tired of not having anyone understand and being penalized for something I can’t control.
Anyways rant over, I hope some people can relate and feel seen.
#auditory processing disorder#apd#hard of hearing#auditory#auditory processing issues#auditory processing problems#disability#hidden disability#invisable disability#accessibility#rant post#rant
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Give up speech and toss forward your best smile
I’ll throw my hat in the ring with no humour
We both know I carry ones cause I’m a betting girl
You don’t even approach me though
You’ve got too much hatred for anything I covet
Too much hatred in your body really
No wonder you’re chiseled out out of stone
If I had that much suffocating hatred on my body
Id be immovable too
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I’m feeling flashbacks violent
Arms Tonite ain’t tonight but fireflies days old- years old
twinning shock expressions with 12 year old me
I hit my drum like the fire we met first
And you meet my eyes
Are you feeling flashbacks violent too?
You’re quite the same as I met you days ago- years ago
Am I twinning 12 year old me?
A little too close when you no longer speak
(To me)
A little too far when you make sense a bit
No, the distance is just far enough for me to meet your eyes,
maybe once more meet your mind?
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What am I supposed to say when you say you like me?
You are the stars, I am a balloon
I cannot stay on the ground, I cannot reach the sky, I am resigned to the inbetween
Pulling the arms of those who dare to hold me
taunting the few who reach down to me from the heavens
Why must you reach? Isn’t the light that radiates out from you reflecting against my skin enough?
I feel a pull towards you, but I am not meant to be held, I pull too hard, break too easy
I cannot say that, so what then?
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I’m deleting photos off my camera roll
Not to forget anything, mainly to get rid of useless screenshots, or the hundreds of random photos my brother stole my phone to take
But I stumble across a photo from the end of the summer
You were holding my phone so that I could help Abby on the train
And you sneakily took a photo of us in the reflection of the train window
I didn’t notice it till now
But i know it’s purposeful
Because you’re making that stupid “I wanna look cool” face
And you’re flashing a peace sign
My fingers ghost over the delete button
But I don’t delete it
As if I ever could
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I think I hate myself, maybe
I didn’t mean to, really
I don’t hate my voice as it sings
I don’t hate myself as it is writing this
I think I just hate everything it’s done
And every thing it hasn’t
And those things are me
And those are myself
And I hate myself, maybe
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