love is fucking bullshit

having a rough night so just needed somewhere to dump all my mindless rambles, aka they hold no depth beyond meaningless words written in odd sentences. thnx to everyone the never reads anyways.

love written at the grave

it still haunts me

Nothing was recognizable anymore, time had warped memories into twisted nightmares with claws that burrowed in his skin the moment he crossed the threshold and held him captive in his place.

And then he saw her, saw the once beautiful skin now sickly pale with dull eyes that grew to widen in horror. Her body stood ridge, fingertips shaking subtly as they lay limp by her sides. The boy knew things had changed.

He shifted uneasily on the balls of his feet with an awkward clearing of his throat, the atmosphere had shifted in seconds, now he could feel as if his whole body got plunged beneath the ice and no air could reach his burning lungs. Eyebrows furrowed mildly with a mind attempting to grasp at the right words, finally breaking the eerie silence with a deafening yet bold question.

“Why are you so broken?”

The young girl cracked a tired smile on her chapped lips, the sunken creases deepened in the shadows of the night around her sharp features. Soft yet distant eyes lay settled on a worn down picture hung crooked on the wall with broken glass still shattered across the floor below, remnants of a broken dream. It took a moment before she managed to pull herself together and hum in response to the man’s question, cracking a sad smile and answered with an empty bitter laugh rumbling within her hollow chest.

She remembers the harsh violent blades of words that were thrown around that night, the ear splitting sound when the cup went rocketing into the mirror hung on the wall before raining down in shambles on the hardwood floor much like her heart, and the dangerous rush of his body, flailing arms flying in gestures she couldn't decipher. She remembers the bone chilling feeling that wrapped around her rib cage as he screamed with spit flying from his lips and stormed, thundering steps beating the ground and leaving the door shuttering in the door frame and left her in a deafening silence...

“I fell in love…”

Each word that fell from her lips pierced his chest with a thousand little pricks that sent his brain screaming in distress because beyond the bitter empty voice that fell flat could he feel her pain, the pleads of help that radiated from every pore of her shattering skin and begged with desperate cries till voices ran hoarse and fell to an empty silence. He knew she’d been alone through the darkened nights where her mind swallowed her whole and fed upon her will to live. He caused it, he plagued her with a poison and left with the cure. But he didn’t know, he still didn’t.

And he didn’t get it. God he didn’t fucking get it. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the pathetic bow of his head once her words settled in the tense air because he didn’t understand the small drops of acid that collected on her skin and seeped within as the weeks drew to months that dragged to years and accumulated from his dangerous touch, how her skin was marred with scars from his fire that just burned too hot for her. He didn’t know of the hours she spent tearing herself apart as the texts had grown fewer and fewer and calls were hushed into the night and forgotten come the morning sun. How each moment he spent ignoring her sprouted a seed of doubt that started in the pit of her stomach and would root, expanding with tainted thoughts sought to expose the insecurities that began to run feral through her veins and infested the confines of a mind he knew wasn’t stable… yet he’d continue to push her off to the side like a discarded toy. So the seeds planted and they only flourished, blooming into beautifully toxic flowers that made her wonder with each blossoming petal what was better than her… why wasn’t she enough? He didn’t get that most nights she’d scratch her skin raw at the thought that while her phone and heart lay silent and cold on the floor he was with another, held close in his arms and his sweet sugar lips brushing ever so gently across the exposed skin of their neck to calm them like he’d use to do for her. He didn’t get that each flower in her chest wilted and turned poisonous, filling her lungs with stones that pulled her head under the water in the raging storms she faced alone. He didn’t know that she had known. Of the other. Of the light he loved that she couldn’t compare to so the thorns twisted and stabbed her from within, her mind would scream and her body would bleed and he would lay silent and not notice each crack that expanded across the ashen skin that held black shadows rivaling those of the dead. While loving him with all she had he’d torn her apart from within, drowning in her own mistakes. He didn’t know, and he just left. Left her to suffocate in her own head.

So now as he reached out with a tentative hand and an apologetic expression written across his ashen face she did nothing more than shake her head subtly, strands of hair falling over her face as she began to cave within herself.

“No.” She whispered, shaking arms raising to wrap tight around her frame, knuckles white as they clutched to fabric like it was the only way to keep herself together. He froze, hand outstretched and wavering in the cold air as she gathered herself, eyes fluttering shut. Seconds passed before the young girl managed to take a weak breath, shaking her head again but more firmly. Her eyes narrowed and her head raised to face him.

“No.” Was said again but in a stronger voice, and she managed to unwrap a hand from her shirt to smack back his sorry excuse. “No. I am over it. I am over it. I am over it.” Each repeat was said with a more powerful confidence that surged through her core and he nodded, eyes sad and arm falling back to his side.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, shoulders sagging with a half assed smile popping up on his lips, quickly falling when the frown on her only deepened.

“Go….” The last word fell with a plea in her voice, eyes threatening to well with treacherous tears she refused to let fall in his presence. And so he could do nothing but nod again, his body lingering like he had more to say. But as time passed he gave in and turned, back now to the girl and he walked slowly out again, much different than the abrupt first time.

The door shut ever so softly behind him. At the click of the lock she fell to her knees as the tears free fell down her stained cheeks, fingers grasping at the floor as a sob racked through her whole body, and her voice cried out in pure misery as all the wounds she’d healed on her heart ripped open and flooded her veins with a tremendous searing agony.

“I still love you.”

broken thoughts

Time passed, much in the act of coloring leaves that broke away from their homes and fluttered down to the earth, curling tightly into itself to shield from the harsh impact upon the dampening floor, a final leap before they meet the end of their era.

And much like the once flourished trees, her mind also began to lose its leaves, ones that held hope for a changing future, for thoughts that would alter from her previous diary entries that marked harsh and dreadful feelings over the earth shattering events that rocked through her core. With time, there was hope that the tree of hope, would survive. As the season affected the environment surrounding her and turning it bitter and cold, so did the sweet branches in her mind begin to shrivel and shrink.

Everyone that walked her way held a smile as she met them with one reflecting right back, almost as if to mirror what they wanted to perceive. Maybe at first it was genuine, maybe they’d fed her enough words to spark a tiny flame of hope within her troubled mind.. But soon it was snuffed out, the crashing waves of stress and screams of her demons drowned out any words that dared to enter from the outside world, so it became a mirror, a simple reflection back to anyone so they wouldn’t question.

Because now as time has grown, the delicate acts of caring for the young has become robotic motor memory, shrinking more and more within her core shelter as the days stretched on. Since the last time her fingers danced dangerously across the blank canvas of a page, she held an objective of rejection. That her mental state was too unweary for the feat she had to accomplish, and at the end of the story she was left with two very destructive answers; whether to speak her truth and go along the path her heart most seeked, alone, or to suck in her words and shelve them all along the backside of her memory box and do as the people around her pelted her to do so without causing them such heartbreaking harm. Latter, she chose, almost in hopes of following the term “fake it till you become it.” and it came towards the end of the summering season, so the soft tree that tried to bloom in her brain from their words did have time to flourish… slightly.. But now that the air grows colder and the nights grow longer, consuming the sun like a starved animal… the realization of failure has just became more and more pronounced, the roots began to shrivel and die which only put more toxins coursing through her bloodstream.

Still as the moment she awake, her limbs were met with such an ache that left her gasping for breath and craving to stay in bed all day. Those thoughts would only last momentarily, only to be met with the insistent wailing of the world around her, screaming orders till it pushed her out of bed and into the motions of coming day. She still felt as though she held no more control of her body, not that she had much of a grip to begin with, but now it was as if her body was not hers anymore, but simply a maid for someone else, a slave to a “greater”cause. People would always talk on how she should be doing this better or how she’ll never be able to get a moment to herself anymore because of the coming trials that’ll last for her entire existence. They plead she seek out the mental help, not for herself, but for the things she has been forced to take care of and take responsibility for, and so she's grown excessively more bitter at them, resentment building in her chest each time she has been asked. No one really fucking cares about her anymore, not that they did to begin with prior, but for years she could handle the fact that though she tried to get anyone to understand the battles she had to face and overcome every single day… now? Now she speaks of it and people jump to their feet in worry, the very same ones that called her a storytelling liar for her outlandish tales of a fake illness. But coming to the sweet garden she was given to cater to and try to grow, it’s like now people figured she mattered, not for her own life, but for the one she was told to nurture.

It was all fake, all of the sweet kind words whispered against her scarred skin were nothing but fitful liars said to cure those of a guilty heart, most coming from mere strangers she thought. They held no sustainable meaning, no more that the stupid fluff language they use as filler in storytelling, it never held any meaning. They thought they were helping her, allowing her to be open about the endless struggles of her mind against her body, providing the help she desperately needed… only many years prior. In the end, they were wrong. It was not helping, it was doing quite the opposite and feeding the dark storms in her tired brain, spitting out the harsh truth of her unimportance, only relevant when it came to another life, one which was already much more important and worth of the attention of millions.

Dark skies churned the dark waves with aggression, so it grew rather than shrank.

jdskgasdhfajsljdlUlkjsdlJASkjf asjkdfas FUCKING FUCK

I can never keep one idea in my head long enough to be able to type it all out, the image only fleeting. The thoughts brew and spin as if casted into a hurricane, whipping around inside the empty space above my shoulders. Only allowing certain trails of thought hit the surface of the raging storm for a few quick moments before being yanked back down and around in the flurry that engulfs my head on the daily. If only there was the ability to put a device against your temples and it strip the thoughts in the mind and print them out on a piece of paper, even if its in a ginormous mess against the page, it's a way to attempt to explain it to the fullest extent. Even with the need to decipher it would be more accurate than the measly words my sluggish fingers are able to scramble to type against the laptop even though the right words never seem to flow properly and each line gets repeated and then deleted in frustration of not being good enough to leave on the page, even if no other human eyes will ever cast upon this disappointment of a page, and disappointment of a writer.

Failure in all acts, i can no longer express myself in the way a writer should, nothing more than tangents that go on until they spiral down into complete nonsense, much like this very run on sentence.

Skdjfasdf fuck  

I don't know exactly how to portray the words the right way to explain the weight i feel both heavy on my brain and hard on my heart. I thought with time the harsh thoughts that had clouded my judgement would fade but as the clock ticks longer and longer from the starting time I fear that it would not dissipate. People keep telling me that I look so much better, that i am handling things much smoother and that i’ve fallen into the roll im supposed to be. But I’m not, I’ve simply just fallen in a pattern. Wake up, work, go to work, come home and work, go to bed, and repeat. It’s exceptionally taxing on both my mind and my body as the days grow longer into the deafening night.

Do I say it? I hate worrying people, especially lately because if I say anything out of line then it's like I’m drowning, they all come in crashing like harsh waves against a teetering boat, and i'm left gasping for air as they attempt to shove their own advice down my shrinking throat. I mean, they’re only doing it for I don’t fail as a mother, so she can flourish more than I ever really could.

Blah blah blah writing this doesn't even matter anymore, no one will ever lay their eyes on these horribly put together words. What was once a comfort doesn’t seem to give me the same ease as it did before.

I’m a failure as a daughter, having a kid too young and never excelling as that of which i should, much like my two fellow sisters did and proven such a proud nature from both of my parents. I barely could leave the nest and now i desperately wish they would let me fall back into the sweet safe haven I once knew, but i know i am not worthy, i never was.

I'm a failure as a lover, i never seem to do quite enough to full satisfy. Whether it's with my body, my mind, or with my heart beating of love.. I don't feel like i quite fulfill what all i feel necessary. I bring such a life altering thing that wasn’t asked for, that's rather troubling to everyone's’ minds. Never much for a outgoing nature that leaves them craving adventure and outlandish trips that fizzle out into the wind once the words leave their beautiful lips because my heart flutters and plummets to the floor at any mention of something out of the norm, anything that could challenge the harsh words that control in the mind. My mind is too sick, too twisted for someone to try to see through all the vivisious vines… it’ll only hurt them. I falter in support and trying my best to make best by them.. There's much easier stories that could be followed with ease and without torment in other earthly bodies.

I'm a failure as a mother, as the smallest things send a rage flowing through my body in such an alarming rate it springs from my fingertips like sparks of fire just licking to start a forest fire. Though words make it sound extreme, reality is just an irritation that the mind dramatizes and overanalyzes to the point of guilt and self loathing over the mere idea of feeling such a way at an innocent little stem. I do never enough, nothing i can muster the ability to do it remotely enough to grow anything, and when offered help i can't take it because i’m already faltering and falling behind, i don't want other people to notice and try to take what little i have away more me. Pathetic and lack luster is what kind of a mother i’ll ever be able to be.

Why must they all be doomed to a life with me..

I'm sad, so what. I’ve been sad for so long i’ve forgotten what it felt like to feel anything different from the gentle cold ache radiating from the middle of my chest. Now it feels muted, but i think it’s just because as the time grows and the stress mingles with the anxiety it’s made me more accustomed to the feelings, the sensations grow less and less intense to my senses.  

I want to die. But then again i’ve been saying that since i was the mere age of twelve. And even with that im pathetic, no one really takes it seriously when i speak of times of failure, where i cant even kill myself properly, without fucking it up. Life is not how i want it, i still struggle to accept it.. We’ll see how the battle continue to rage on.

Though be being sad also brings me anger for reactions I have received, especially from those i held very closely. Yes i am aware i have a child to care for and raise, but do not continue to use her to guilt me into staying alive, saying that i HAVE to for her, its showing that in your heart you hold an importance above that of my own life to live for myself, and that it holds no value over that of raising her. I understand she may need me, or a mother figure, but i need help, i need to be listened to and not judged, but instead im meet with backlash on how could i become such a selfish person. I'm not, im desperate and those just add to the mountains of self loathing that piles onto my thinning shoulders, and continue to add to my demise. Care for me, for me, not for that of others… you just make matters worse.

a mind at war // 2:56

I have never felt so certain yet uncertain at the same time.

I am certain that I love this boy, this man that’s built himself anew from the ground up over the last few years. I am certain he holds my tiny timid heart perfectly in his hands, and without his gentle touches it may not beat the same. Certain that his startling blue eyes twinkle with a glorious glimmer of mischief that continues to cause my breath to catch, locked in the center of my throat at his true beautiful, in genuine awe of his statue. The future, its with him, it is i promise, says my brain. I am certain in the way his fingers tighten around mine, almost like hes trying to ground my spirit to the earth as the mind attempts to leap out of the car window speeding down the highway while the stars above becon me by name. I am certain in my trust, of the wilting flower that lost all it’s petals in a raging storm that seemed to last for eons; while wanting to just fall and give towards the end the flower endured and began to heal, learning how to grow to fit the storm, to become stronger and overcome the obstacles till the bright petals shined bright against the harsh tones of the sky and casted the desolate winds back to where they came. Standing tall, a gorgeous new flower, one fit for battle and one of a kind. Certain that one day, I wish to be able to put my finger to the paper and write out the elegance of his last name, only to be paired with my own first in a beautiful unity.

But uncertain of my love for this boy, for the torments the foundation have brought. Yet, also uncertain of myself over the mere fact that the past actions still trace their daunting fingertips up and down my spine sending fearful shivers rocking through my body. Why? Why do they still linger like a bad taste in my mouth after all this time? They fester under the skin like poison that leaves my thoughts in a confused daze… it worries me, the fear that surrounds my heart in an iron cage, causing the rapid sporadic beats to increase from time to time. It happened before, for lengths of time that could cover a wall in tally marks, so what if the time fit the past and it recurred? Its stupid, yes, and I trust this beautiful soul, but it still lingers and rears it’s ugly head from time to time. So more its uncertainty of how long it will last, of the “back and forth” until he decides enough is enough and my ongoing feelings over old news is pointless and just holding him back.... because his voice whispers to me in the gentle breeze of the midnight sky, of actions he is curious of, that attracts his inquisitive attention, and what if the scent of unknown grows too alluring, seeking him out, and he decides he’d rather go try something new and get rid of what has grown old… But i do stop the thoughts, I redact many motions to speak just to ease his mind

The continuous of this trial has started to be infected, a light toxic atmosphere has entered the field and though it is only in the beginning stage there still seems to be flowers just faintly starting to lose color around their edges. The center is still saturated in a glowing pure light, but what if it keeps going on without notice, or yet when acknowledged but never acted upon?

The stress drains the soul, and two struggling souls trying to fight together amps up the loss. A separation of the two dimming lights to attempt to save themselves, or will it be possible to bond in a united nation and fight back the erasers and save the concept of color?

gunna upload some writings  plz ignore. 

I’m always a slut for deep conversations and exploring our feelings at 1am

Kids are just like “ppptppptppthhptpppthh” until one day they’re like “oh shit I can think” and then it’s all downhill from there

stop reconnecting with toxic people from your past because you’re lonely. focus on getting better and attracting better.

xx