worrieddiary

[worrieddiary]

i will continue to mourn things that haven’t happened yet it’s a lifestyle babey

#personal #words #textpost #writing

[worrieddiary]

it’s okay to let go of objects. it really is okay, even if the memory fades with it. we aren’t meant to hold everything that ever touched us.

#note to self #diary #writing #writings #poetry #positivity #words

[worrieddiary]

sometimes… someone is lovely, life-changing, but they’re not meant for you

[worrieddiary]

maybe the snowfall would settle everything built up inside of me. I’m thinking about how badly I wish I could shove my bare feet into layers upon layers of ice crystals to feel something different than the ache of wanting but never getting. I’d be closer to you clutching a ball of snow than I would be holding your hand. and as the icicle falls from the rooftop, it’ll shatter just the same.

#writing #poetry #spilled ink #words #snow

[worrieddiary]

found family trope. countless hours spent skimming through fiction, a group of kids too much—no—too good for their parents fight their way toward one another for solace. you are like me. except blood knows not to spill from the scars scattered among their bodies. but I’m still spilling, searching for who I care for enough to compromise that ninety percent when all they had to do was give ten. I don’t think I’ll ever find it. not in the way I want. not in the way I’d die for.

#poetry #spilled ink #found family #family #words #writing

[worrieddiary]

eat the elephant. sit behind the wheel until your voice no longer trembles. break apart each impossible piece, easing the flesh to your lips. chew until you find it in yourself to swallow. the way you shake as you put you foot on the gas will become a distant memory when you’re driving on the highway with the windows down. pay no mind to what it actually means. the oh god, I just ate an entire elephant when all you had to do was nibble on a rat will sit in the pit of your stomach. it’s impossible. it’s vile. it’s what you need to do to survive. the blood on your hands will not be from the person in the passenger seat; the phantom, the victim, a harmless elephant, drips from your lips and stains your teeth.

#nobody wants to eat an elephant #dumb expression #writing #words #spilled ink #poetry #driving #fear

[worrieddiary]

as these last two dreary months come to a close, so does the first decade where I became aware of time and how it could hurt me. I’m an emerging adult, and I take that word and spit it out like it’s too bitter for me, scrambling for the life I’ve left behind. I laughed when I wrote 2016 on an assignment last night. it ended up getting caught in my throat. each year held significance for me. I can recognize that much, even if I can’t quite pick them apart. it’s only that 2019 feels much more like I’m closing a door and it’s getting locked behind me before I’m ready to enter the next one.

#writing #spilled ink #november #2019 #poetry

[worrieddiary]

Yeah, but isn't that the way. you kiss first and I say I'm sorry. The dirt under my nails don't wash out until the second week of September. I say "She's just going through a hard time", you forget my name like you washed it out under a faucet. My friend hears the story and says: you still love her and blame yourself for the graves she likes to lie in. He says: she only likes you when it makes her a bad person.

You show up wanting to leave. Don't understand why people are angry you want to end like a reckoning. You take any sweet spot and turn it bitdown and see if the juice will bleed. Smash the good and suck the marrow of bad and call pain home because a good sore is better than feeling nothing. My friend says: why do you like her? Why do you bother defending her? You know you mean nothing to her and she's gonna leave in the morning.

I say I don't know. I say I'm still searching. But when I close my eyes I know better. A girl and a smile and pink earrings.

Isn't that the way. I wake up and you're not responding and isn't that the way. I am so good at the rotting.

#not mine

[worrieddiary]

I feel like I’m a fraud. I’m making it all up as I go, acting as if I’m the same as everybody else. Every assignment I turn in deserves a triple check. Each day I float by pretending to be a grown adult with dreams and opinions of my own. I’m a damaged mind. I’ve never known what it’s like to want freely. It all comes at a cost.

#spilled ink #words #diary #poetry #writing