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Does This Read?
Does This Read? is a blog by Meg McDermott.
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I can't breathe.
He's dead
and
I can't breathe.
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Just Stop
If we could just
stop
touching each other
and
pay attention for
five minutes, we'd
realize everything we
were actually missing, and why
things tend to
hurt so much.
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Wednesdays
Text message. World ending.
I don't sleep. I get coffee and drink.
I walk around the park in the dark. I talk to Rob on the phone.
I get coffee again. I sit in the park and the sun rises. I eat part of a croissant, but I start to feel like I'm going to be sick.
I walk over to Dupree and talk to Max and Jack. Rob comes home. Max takes a nap. Jack leaves. When he comes back, he has cupcakes. I eat one. The sick feeling comes back.
I lost all feeling somewhere in the middle of a Wednesday. It comes back sometimes. When it does, I feel alive, because it feels like I'm slowly dying. I guess I am. I guess we all are. I don't like Wednesdays.
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This is a thing I wrote.
Okay just a little disclaimer: Alright, yes, I admit that I could be considered a fan. The girl writes some damn catchy songs.
That being said, I recently came across this post, and it changed EVERYTHING. I’m not going to sit here and shit on Taylor Swift, that’s not what I want to do. I...
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I guess I've come to the conclusion that time is real, and it's relevant, and so much of it is spent on really, really stupid, mundane things. I've discovered my opinion, which is that society uses things that should be either beautiful or irrelevant to invite us to hate each other and ourselves.
I've also discovered that I'd rather spend time with myself than with most people, and I'd rather spend time with music than with myself.
Not in a depressed way. It's different than it used to be.
Just in a tired way, I guess.
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I do that, too.
Life is perpetual disappointment. So I laugh, definitely far too often. I laugh because what the fuck else is there to do? Cry? I do that, too. No one knows me. I'm a facial expression that's a little too predetermined, a t-shirt that's a little too big, and a laugh that's a little too loud. I string words together in a certain order, to distract others and myself from the fact that I have nothing of value to say. I have no great contribution. When it's 4:13 am and I'm being my honest-to-god, truest self, I can fully acknowledge that I have no real substance. I just have a way with words, an abundance of self-resentment, and a grief whose weight is so heavy on my chest that I often lose the ability to breathe. That's all I am. So that is when I cry.
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I feel too young for life
because life is just a very prolonged death
and I know I'm too young for death.
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I Really Would
I wish I knew the number of breaths I had left
so I could divide them in two
and give half of them to you.
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Noël and I
We can leave in the middle of the night,
when it is least expected.
We'll go to the mountains, and we'll stay there, and let the world forget about us, so maybe we can forget about it.
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Speech
I would like to acknowledge,
on behalf of my friends,
and myself,
that there is a plain difference
between
being constructively critical
and
being a bully.
Grow the fuck up.
End of speech.
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Soho is Dark at Night
It's strange, that
in one of the biggest
cities in
the world, I
feel completely and
utterly
alone.
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I Miss You
The world is different now.
Life is different.
Time is real, time is relevant.
Because it's running out,
and
quickly.
So say
what you need to
say and
mean it.
Don't waste your
breathe
and love
and time
on people or
places or
causes
that won't make you
a better person,
that won't make the world
a better place to live.
Stop asking,
stop searching,
stop trying to make something out of everything,
and
just
Live
Your
Life.
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I lost my cousin on Wednesday. He was more like a brother to me. Hundreds of people came to celebrate his life today. It was beautiful and he was beautiful. Rest in Peace, Derek. I love you so much and I'll miss you until I see you again.
“Life and reality are extremely confusing and will never have a definite answer. We have been searching since the beginning of time for the meaning of life. I think that’s our problem, stop wasting your life looking for the meaning of life, just Live Your Life.”
-Derek Munro
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No More of You
You know those loud moments,
when it feels
like part of your soul
has been ripped
out of your chest?
That's what I feel
right now,
without you here.
No more pictures,
no more private jokes.
No more camp counseling.
No more of you
making fun of me
until I'm so mad
and frustrated
that we both start laughing
uncontrollably.
No more of you
and I
and the rest of us
hunting for Easter eggs
in Grandma's backyard.
No more of you
and your quiet
witty comments.
No more of you.
No more of you.
No more of you.
#no more of you#meg mcdermott#does this read?#i feel sick to my stomach#i can't believe he's gone#i love you#creative writing#poem
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Sitting Alone on the Top of a Mountain
I found
that the best part
of you and me
was me.
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