Don't put your arms up to block it. It's sharp, and will only sting longer than the truthful blow. Your caught, and tied down.
Surrender, and expose your heart.
Your soul is shaking, and your voice is breaking. There's no other choice left.
It is so sad to have a dream with people you’ve lost, where the scene is absolutely okay.
Where you forget that it isn’t real, and you love them and get along fine.
It’s so terribly sad it destroys me once I wake up, and reality sets in. I don’t feel like doing this day. I want that back fantasy back instead.
someone asked me my definition of self-harm (via heartanalogist)
I wonder if he still considers her such an epic ‘love’. After fighting back and forth about so many things, and having to deal with her moods every day.
I wonder if he found any of those messages that we had all around the internet, or if found out about me seeing her while she tried so hard to hide it from him. I hope he did. Those were some beautiful, brilliant conversations.
I especially like a few specific parts. Like, when she repeated over and over that even though he thinks they’re together, she’s not with him, or in it for him.
That she wasn’t with him, but that she didn’t want to clarify that with him exactly. Because she felt like she needed him for the pregnancy. And how, if it weren’t for the pregnancy she would have cut him out of her life for me again because he meant so little, and was a mistake again.
Then I especially liked how she admitted that it had nothing to do with romance between them, and it wasn’t intimacy. She thinks she did what she did because of me (Like I called earlier, obviously). Because I supposedly didn’t react correctly to the break up, and it made her so lonely that she lashed out to the closest person.
While I don’t agree that that’s any decent motive that excuses anything, it does me good to know she didn’t believe herself when she acted like they were so close again.
It also did me good to see her before I left. And to hug her, and kiss her face a few more times. And to see that the looks that went from and back to us were still passionate. I had began to wonder after so long.
It felt good to hear about him scrambling around, thinking something was going on. Getting all upset. Spying like pile of crazy girlfriends.
It just made me laugh. While thinking to myself, “Look at that little boy worry up and down about this thing that he doesn’t know, isn’t his.”
I am glad the sun is around. It doesn’t always feel nice, and it often gets in the way of my vision. And some times I talk about wishing the sun wasn’t around because it makes me so uncomfortable. But of course, I appreciate in full gravity that it is around, putting energy out towards me. I’d be dead if it were gone. So, you could say, I love the sun wholeheartedly.
If it were to ‘leave’ or not exist anymore, the world would be absolutely cold. Absolutely dead. And absolutely thrown out of it’s intended path of orbit.
That’s kind of how I feel a lot of the time. Like, wow. Where did the direction of my world just turn to? I haven’t caught up with it yet. It’s just kind of dumped off in some place, and given the unwanted option to do anything.
I can do anything now. But I can’t feel truly good about anything, even in the simplest ways for now. Because of things I can’t get over, or be satisfied with in each moment.
So this freedom hasn’t help me much when it comes to regaining my balance.
I always thought the term, “Undead” sounded silly. I always heard it in fantasy or si-fi fictions. About creatures that had died, but were still alive somehow.
To me, if you mix “un”, with “dead”, it should mean the same thing as “alive”. But whatever, that’s how people use the word, undead. When they are talking about something that is dead, but still alive, in whatever way.
I don’t know exactly how to explain it, but that’s how I’ve felt lately. Dead, but still alive. Not even in a analogical or symbolic way of speaking. Like, everything feels blanketed around me. My life is supposedly supposed to keep going, but the willingness of my soul to live and hope is not on board.
It’s not filling in my motions, or causing me to flinch at things. It’s not filling in the space of my mind and face, or my hands or feet. The feeling of warmth and closeness, has been moved aside for precise motions and solid focus.
Things like fear have changed. Now my fear is more like depression.
I have fears of mental pain, instead of fearing harm or death. I still try to avoid harm and death, and sure, my adrenaline would pump in danger. But when I think about it, it’s never something to get too excited over. The mental pain is a worse thought now. It twists my stomach to think about. When I look forward, and back in time, I now see a gradual slant that leads into more heartbreak in so many directions.
It’s almost like, now I want to much out of this world. More than it can offer. Because I can’t stand the hard parts anymore. The more they come along, the more exhausted I feel. And the more I want to avoid everything.
Right now I’m just blindly putting in effort, with the purpose of finding a purpose to put effort in to. I don’t like waking up like this, or laying down at night like this.
I stay up late to not lay down. And I try as hard as I can to not get angry in the morning.
She chooses wrong while she has the chance to fix everything. This last time around it seemed different. I suppose, like it always does. She seemed more understanding in some few ways that I thought could have mattered.
How many times in this life will I get my hopes up?
I don’t want to hope anymore. It’s too dangerous.
It’s building up. And I’m looking around.
But there’s no outlet.