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back from hiatus. nothing to report besides an inability to write anything meaningful anymore. everything i write just feels like i’m writing what i subconsciously think people would like, and I hate it. writing was always something so intimate for me, because i feel so performative in my day to day life. but now even my writing feels like i’m putting on a show.
#writers block#author#writing#poetry#aaron warner#insomia#music#aestethic#astrology#college#POL#poliça#Spotify
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the season of joyful loneliness. there is something to be said about people who enjoy being alone together with you.
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just like the seasons my mood cycles. the growing pains I feel in the summer, turn into a longing for something more in the winter. the transition of the change from my sunny childhood room, to the ambient gray of the life i have built outside of my hometown. the sun no longer wakes me up, i am instead forced onto a synthetic diet of energy drinks and alarms. craving chemistry to spark a fire of red and orange in the blue of the iowa winters. who will it be? what will it be this year? taking applications now! come one come all to lay down your gifts at the altar i have built to hurt myself.
they say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome each time.
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reflection on this school year: tired would be an understatement, it is exhausting to constantly feel so unfulfilled, to live a life without passion is to not really be alive at all. I miss enjoying wind in my hair and the smell of trees, now my mind is only consumed with the thought that the wind in my hair makes me look foolish, like a little girl, it is infantilizing to enjoy it. the smell of trees is a harsh reminder of what i used to enjoy, i would never allow myself the pleasure of climbing a tree now. I have no hobby’s i enjoy anymore, and the only genuine smiles that escape me come with the aid of alcohol or drugs. i have plateaued, how can someone so young be so without zest for life. I am wasting my best years and it crushes me to even admit it. i need to leave this all behind me and find myself.
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college lately
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does anyone else feel like they weren’t supposed to make it this far? not in a morbid way necessarily, but more so they never imagined life past a certain point. well i am at that certain point. i’m going away to college, but college for me was always a means to an end. the reason i stayed up so late studying. why i joined a million clubs, and forced myself to interact with a thousand people i can’t stand. my motto: i just need to make it to college. well now i’m about to go and i’m fucking terrified. what if i get so mentally sick i have to come home? what if i hate it there? what if i disappoint everyone who’s sacrificed so much for me to get here? is it worth sacrificing my fucking peace of mind and happiness for another four years of school? i never imagined what i would do once i got here. all i knew is that i needed to get here. well now i “made it”. and i’ve never been more fucking scared.
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i want to fucking die. this cycle is absolutely fucking draining. i’ve been in a depressive episode for four fucking months, i’m so high functioning no one even notices. but i’m failing all my classes. i go home and just sleep. going out is an exhausting chore. but i am here for all my friends. the personal fucking human sponge. do they think i have it all together? i’m a human trauma dump site. i’m an uplifter. a healer. but when i’m alone it’s like i rather be dead because being awake is too exhausting. i disassociate through all my classes. it’s like i’m on autopilot. i just watch myself interact and give little smiles and help people. while the real me is screaming and clawing for help inside. god, if you’re real....fuck you. i’ve been to two funerals this week. both fathers with young children. explain your all knowing plan to me. how is this your will. why are we suffering for the sins of a woman we have never known. you are “all powerful, and all knowing” so then wouldn’t you know that this was going to happen? if you knew that original sin was going to take place and we were going to be banished to live a life of death and grief why make us in the first place? that doesn’t sound “all loving.” anyway does anyone know how to trigger a bipolar person from depressed to manic? because at this point i’d rather be manic and shave my head and hurt everyone i know with my reckless actions then not be here bc my depression won #justathot
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i have an obsessive personality. when i want something; a boy, an award, acceptance, validation; i will stop at nothing. think about nothing else. it’s addicting. it consumes me entirely. i live for it. i breathe for it. i wake up in the morning with the sole purpose of achieving what i want. but here’s the trick: as soon as i get it, i move on. i leave. and it’s so easy. it’s so so easy. i want a boy. so i pursue, i flirt, i play hard to get (but not too hard to get). i’ll become his fantasy. whatever he wants me to be. i find out what he likes, learn about it, and then casually mention it in conversation as if it were my own unique passion. i lie. i lie so easily. but as soon as they like me...i’m gone. don’t expect me to call you baby. don’t expect me to hold your hand. this isn’t real. cant you see? it’s just a game honey. and i win. i always win. i don’t know what would happen if i were to lose. lucky for me i never have. i never will. obsession is addicting, but once i get you, and the chase is gone, i’m gone. i’m looking for my next high.
#alt j#obssesive#help#liar#red#blue#breezeblocks#melaniemartinez#imagine#i’m not sorry#music#truth hurts#dark#crystal#boy#dream#Spotify
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i feel like i’m sitting in the waiting room. everyone around me is getting called in, but i never do. so i just sit and i wait. sit and wait. sit and wait. is there something that i could be doing differently. what am i doing wrong. eveyone else seems so happy. is it an act. i feel paranoid and then feel crazy for feeling that paranoid and the cycle starts again. i feel like i’m sitting in a waiting room. the doctor never calls me in. i’m never going to be fixed. i feel like i’m sitting in a waiting room, while all the while, everyone knows something that i don’t. is there some big secret that i’m not aware of. what memo did i miss. when was i finally supposed to feel older and independent and free and happy. i feel like my sole purpose here is to give love. never receive it. so i’ll just stay right here in this waiting room. sit and wait. sit and wait.
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i need to burn the last picture i have of him. i saved it because he really looks happy. but when i look in my eyes i see nothing. and when i force myself to remember the hollow feeling that came with being with him. and all the romanticized words i wrote about him, and all the love i felt comes crashing down. and i remember. the screaming. the fighting. the rage. the bruises. the pain. and i remember that his love is a drug. addicting. the comedown was hard. but if i kept using. i would certainly end up dead. so yes, i resolve that i need to burn that last picture i have with him
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i stagazed with them tonight but he wasn’t looking at me, he barely looked at the sky, his eyes were magnetically pulled to her. it doesn’t hurt anymore as it used to. he seemed like he was trying to see the stars through the reflection in her eyes. it was cinematic in every sense of the word. she has a boyfriend but i don’t mind the beautiful paradox. i like watching him happy. even if it’s not because of me
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4th grade me would be so heartbroken at who i have become
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i have never felt worse but i am blaming it on ~seasonal depression~
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my music reccomendation of the day, i saw him play this live in concert truly atomic
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