This is it. Life is just this. You come out of the womb and then end up in the tomb. There's no magical third act where everything end ups fine and you live happy ever after. I will never be able to see me trought other people's eyes, they say they love me but in reality they might be lying. Do you also have this felling like you can be sad, depressed, suicidal but when you see someone close or not being like this you fell guilt? Like you cannot help them cus you fell the same thing. You're a broken person telling another broken person that everything will be alright. This weights in my conscience so much i can't help but fell like i'm the only one who deserves to feel like this. Not everyone will love you and not everyone will hate you. But for sure you are going to either love or hate yourself. I want to be a narcissist to everything envolving me and just me, i and myself. I just want to know what love is. But not loving someone else. That's easy, because i don't fall in love with the person i fall in love with the idea of them. I don't know their interests, birth date or even their name but they're the love of my life. I want to have a enemies to lovers trope with myself. Because i can't tolerate this shit anymore. I might just pull a 13 reasons why one day. But we all know i'll have more than 13 reasons.
You're not alone broðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜
reblog if you’re a writer who feels guilt whenever they’re not writing and being productive, so I know I’m not the only one lol
Can we just appreciate small poets who deserve a whole book dedicated to them?? Poets deserve to be the poem as well 💗💕
Also, love the poem!
What if I’ve paid every coin in my hand,
Yet I’m judged for debts I don’t understand?
A heart I never held beats heavy with blame,
And I’m the ghost they’ve given a name.
Did I carve my guilt in stone or steel,
Or is it a weapon I was forced to wield?
Am I cruel, sharp-edged, built to defy,
Or just a reflection of another’s lie?
Is this a sentence, written in ash,
Or a road I walk, marked by the past?
The lines blur between the truth and the crime
Am I the victim, or am I the knife?
Perhaps it’s not punishment, not fate’s decree,
But the weight of a question that’s drowning me.
What if the answer is that I’ve gone astray
Or perhaps the guilt isn’t mine to carry today?
Just finished "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo" and...
Now i have depression.
BEST BOOK EVER!!!💖💜💙
Angel by NewDad
@mentallylivingin2000s @girlyteengirl16 @sofiisx @violetsinyoureyesandguns @dollbambi111 @lizzyreyy @xlcovo @mzbdga
If you see this you are OBLIGATED to reblog w/ the song currently stuck in your head :)
Guardian of twin blades
Precise cut ballerina,
With each indecisive cut
It's a verse cut from me.
Paper, blank canvas
Waiting to be expressed in words.
However, it's cut
By the guardian of twin blades.
Separated by lines of pain,
The paper sheds tears of euphoria.
Moments later,
The paper wanders through the garden of thorns.
With every sigh there's a petal that falls,
The wind carries him across the garden, weighing down more and more.
The shadows of the trees dance around,
Reminding him of bad choices.
Paper cut, still blank canvas
Only torn and alone...
Don't turn around, the paper follows the garden's path.
The heart mourns, the mind remembers.
Why?
Twin blades, why?
Why didn't they cut him all off at once?
Gentle melancholy as he flies through the garden.
The paper thinks for himself,
If maybe I should stop suffering.
He doesn't stop
The paper punishes itself.
It's not about dying
The paper said
It's about pain
And her relief...
a poem by me lol