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Experiences may have lended their wisdom, Taught me how not to be like that monster. It's true I have gained new vision, however; My trauma did not make me stronger. The lessons it taught were too strict, Turned me afraid of being a bother. Yet you will not hear me faulter as I say; My trauma did not make me stronger. It left me beaten, battered and bruised, Now left to walk with poor posture. Please stop telling me time will fix things; My trauma did not make me stronger.
Date Written: 13th of August, 2023
My little daffodil, Resting all alone without any sunlight. What's given you that might? How many demons were you made to fight? Do you know there's no end to what I'd give In the mere hope that it'd help you feel alright? Because I'm sat here, chest clenched tight Pleading with the harshness of the night. "If only the stars would give some heed to this weary plight" "If only my warmth through unconditional love you'd requite" Your petals shine so bright, Resting all alone with the moonlight. Always so close to that beautiful, unifying sight But never quite.
Date Written: 12th of August, 2023
Seeing you happy still means the world to me But that joy has grown a contradiction "What is a love without it's strength?" "What is a heart without it's flaws?" My love once so unconditionally sweet Gained a rancid taste, bitter and overripe A fruit left neglected for years Such sharp textures for something so contrite I once promised you the universe To this day I would still serve it to you Only my hands are tainted with soil No longer clean enough to use If I love you, I should let you free A true effort to prove my loyalty Yet the temptation of a bird cage Now sounds the kindest to me
Date Written: 11th of August, 2023
"You really hurt me." Fuck, I wish I could say that to you. I want to tell you "I wished you were better" And hear you say "I'm sorry." like you mean it. My love of you is a laceration across my chest Visible to everyone who meets me, Stinging at every change of the winds. It likes to bleed out at night. The kitchen sink is stacking higher, Soon the laundry pile will join. Sometimes I still see your ghost in the mirror, Staring back at me with empty eyes. I guess I'm in another one of my rutts again It just all feels so pretentious and aimless "You really hurt me, but I hurt me more." The truth is a harder pill to swallow.
Date Written: 10th of August, 2023
The sharpness traces Gentle and cold Pressure brings warmth, a gasp Purely pleasurable relief Muscles forced into stiffening All while melting to belief "Red is the colour of passion" I tell myself as it trickles down my side Where engravings sing of promises Living life, finally feeling satisfied Guilty yet remorseless "What petal has yet to fall?" So sickly sweet, but is no treat Just a sucker left to crawl
Date Written: 7th of August, 2023
It rained in my head for years But look at all the flowers that bloomed from it As they grew I thought of us Our resilience created such beauty Now, as they come to wilt I find myself thinking solely of you
Date Written: 7th of August, 2023
You're a toxin, a poison built to dissolve the lives of everyone you touch with that deformity of an organ you call a heart. Avert your gaze and ignore your texts, decline any sense of desperation you use to cling to those who're above your station. A lowly imperfection so intent on infecting any mercy you're shown, what wilting flower wouldn't weep given the chance to witness such a pathetic display of insecurities. Be grateful you are not yet eradicated, For time and the likes of you do not cross kindly. A childish fool, you were never worthy of humanity. To: Myself "With love - whatever that means."
Date Written: 6th of August, 2023 Words I had written to myself after a mental lapse.
Self-inflicted guilt laces my lungs with tar, it gets so hard to breathe. Sometimes I wonder if everyone feels this weight in their chests all the time, heavy with doubts and hesitations. I'm sure even the most put together people have things that bring them down when it gets quiet, which is sad to think about. All beauty needs to be broken before it blooms, but wouldn't it be lovely to simply indulge in peace for once? To quell the heartbreak inside is something special, I can only hope I may one day join the people who have found their rest from all of the emotional aches. Idk, i'm tired. it's all a lot.
On 1/14/25 I wrote:
I run from my problems. I run and I run and I run and I never stop. And yet my legs never move. My arms never lift. I run away so far and yet I dont move a muscle. I block out my brain from my body, my body from the world, and I try not to exist. As I like to think that I would do anything to want to exist, all I really do is try not to exist. I say I want to feel better. I say I want to be able to trust myself, to love myself, and yet I work so hard in the opposite direction. I try so hard not to exist and I am constantly convincing myself I am trying to achieve the opposite. I want nothing other than to create and yet I never create. Because deep down truly, a part of me knows that I will never create all that I want and maybe, I never wanted to create in the first place.
On 5/12/25 I write:
I wanted to create today and I did. Today deep down and truly a part of myself knew I wanted to create all along. I stopped trying so hard to exist and I achieved the opposite, I existed and I created. I loved myself and I ran to that love. Amongst the blocks and the problems and the troubles I moved a muscle and I ran and I ran and I ran. I didn't even realize I was running but I was. I was running towards joy, existence and creation. And it is something quite beautiful.
and tonight when you’re out with your friends, and you find your way into a girls arms, and you kiss her. I hope you pause, remembering the last words you said to me. I hope after that, you tell her you can’t go on with it anymore, and I hope you think of me, and you start to wish things went differently. And maybe that is really selfish of me and cruel to rather you miss me than be so good at forgetting, and maybe for the first time in my life I don’t care about being selfish, because all I care about is the thought of you with someone else and how it tears my stomach into pieces.
i think it’s that my mother started reading the Song of Achilles, and told me she didn’t realise it was about… you know… that they were gay, and then didn’t finish it. i think it’s that my mother still introduces me as her daughter. i think it’s that my mother has never called me by my real name, only a neutral nickname she can derive from it. people mishear her, and think im called Jane. i think I would’ve been a good Jane. a violent one. i think it’s that my mother has a “gay bestie” and i think it’s that she screamed at me in the car when my teacher told her she’d seen me walking around school holding hands with a girl. i think it’s how she used to drive us around in the car, and tell us she didn’t care what we were, gay, straight, or purple, as long as we were happy. i think it’s about returning to the well and finding it still full of all the wishes I’d made as a child, and realising they were only ever copper.