addictedtopizza14

[addictedtopizza14]

Spiritual Incantations

my midnight invitations

orchestration of constellations

has everything, everything to do

to do with you, and you, and you

my first star come evening twilight

rising in an entrancing dance

wish, my wish, my only wish

dreamy starkissed moonbeams

alchemy of metaphysical streams

spiritual incantations

eternity's transformations

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

©️ @followcb ☆ April 20, 2024

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"Kinder Than Man" Althea Davis // Kayla Ancrum // "Abstract Psychopomp" Hozier // Unknown photographer // "Allowables" Nikki Giovanni // "Abstract Psychopomp" Hozier // "Mercy" Rudy Francisco // Unknown photographer

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[addictedtopizza14]

does anyone have the post thats a leonard cohen quote talking about being empty

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Who were you before you dared to dream?

Who were you before you were numbed by your heart's screams?

Who were you before your nights were filled with hopelessness and tears?

Who were you before you were left with nothing but your fears?

-Sabina Yesmin

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you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.

bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.

this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?

so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."

you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.

you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.

but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.

quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.

you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.

you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?

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forever in awe of people who pay attention. people who wait for you while you tie your shoes while the others have walked away. when they continue listening intently while the rest of the group stopped listening. noticing your moments of silence when everyone else hasn’t. “this made me think of you” noticing things you never even noticed about yourself. people who say “text me when you get home safe.” people who make you laugh until you cry. childhood friends who keep in touch. people with genuine intentions. people who are soft when the world has given them every opportunity to turn hard. the “let’s get ice cream” at 3am friend. the turn up the music in the car and sing friend. people whose actions match their words. people who make the world feel less chaotic. kindred spirits. the trustworthy and honest. hard workers. good listeners. clear communicators. people who love you for who you are. people who don’t ask you to be anything other than yourself. people who choose you. people who stay.

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Therapy is risky because sometimes they'll just ask you their standard "why can't you, though", and you think you're making some good point by saying something like "well if I don't do anything with my life then what's the point of being alive in the first place" and your therapist gets that look on their face and you immediately realise that your dumb ass just got caught, pinned to the ground with your stupid-ass neck between the spikes of a pitchfork, and you are not going to wiggle out of there before you two unpack what the fuck you just said.

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i cant think of the fact that humans send messages saying ’where are you? who are you?’ from earth to the giant and empty space all around us for too long because it makes me cry so hard and feel so human and lonely

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“Find me a house where no one can ever come. I like talking to you, but to no one else in the whole world.”

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Lytton Strachey wr. c. September 1925

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abused doesn’t excuse abuse addiction doesn’t excuse abuse pain doesn’t excuse abuse mental illness doesn’t excuse abuse intolerance doesn’t excuse abuse fear doesn’t excuse abuse trauma doesn’t excuse abuse circumstances don’t excuse abuse poverty doesn’t excuse abuse bad health doesn’t excuse abuse culture doesn’t excuse abuse religion doesn’t excuse abuse tradition doesn’t excuse abuse experience doesn’t excuse abuse anger doesn’t excuse abuse a lapse of judgment doesn’t excuse abuse there is no excuse.

~stop giving the abuser a crutch to hit with.

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when Lemony Snicket wrote “I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you everyday” that hurt me

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ngl this is so me

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grief's ongoing to-do list by judas h.

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I don't have an ounce of strength left in my body today. The pain that I have been enduring since morning consumed it all away. Times like this, with my trembling fingers, I still type out to the world, "Hang in there. This too shall pass," because the first page of my diary says, "Pain is the epilogue of every tale, but suffering doesn't have to be the entire story." Keep on the walk. Smile away the aches. On the other side is the solace your heart longs for.

-Sabina Yesmin