She grew up knowing not of her fate,
Simply staring,
Praying and praying.
She knew not of the world
Locked away in her corner,
Dreaming and dreaming.
Naivety never lost, nor gained,
Hopes never stolen, nor made
Wanting for nothing,
Learning nothing.
That was her bliss, in fact,
That was her happiness.
Souson
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A Crippled Awakening (unfinishe-
I am floating.
I am aware, but not.
Lost in this dream I am,
deception of the mind at play.
But then I wake,
yet I remain trapped,
stuck in this state of nothing.
I'm scared.
I feel my lungs,
My neck,
My very breath,
Being crushed.
I want to scream.
But I am unable.
My voice has vanished,
As well as my control,
Off into the creeping shadows of the night.
I gasp and shudder,
Thoughts racing as my pulse roars.
I remain trapped,
Forced into nothingness.
I'm scared.
My hands gain freedom,
and slowly but surely I crack the barrier of insanity.
Apparently I wrote this on April 27th, 2016.
I donāt remember doing that, in fact, I most likely canāt remember doing that.
Itās approximately 3 am where I am as of current, and I have no clue what the fuck spurred on me breathing life into this unposted draft, but Iāll roll with it.
Iāve regularly experienced bouts of sleep paralysis for...god, 9 years. That was the first time Iāve ever tried to gauge just how long my sleep has been plagued by these damned...well no one needs to know just what apparations I envision in this head of mine.
Thankfully for the past year or so (perhaps 9 months? the repetition of that number is beginning to make me grow paranoid) the amount of times Iāve experienced it in a week has dwindled down.
But now, I experience night terrors instead.
To think that someone nearing adulthood could experience clinical night terrors, I think to myselfĀ āperhaps someone out there just doesnāt want me to sleep. ever.ā
I think that theyāre right.
I remember when I was younger, I would often unabashedly say to my friends,Ā āplease let me sleep, for an eternity.ā.
Ahahaha, thank god we were all young and naive, else Iād have been reported and put god knows where.
Although that would have been for the better, to be honest.
The fact that I decided to post an unfinished work and post this meaningless ramble most likely means that I feel like an unworthy fuck again.
This is my own fault.
Pointless ramble that only means things to me: done
Level of cramped thoughts in head: lower
*cue jubilant noises*
*returns to silent brooding*
Edit: It is now 11:14 pm on the same day that I wrote this up, and can I just say that WOW I WAS OUT OF IT because I did NOT remember writing this stuff up. I must say that I seem to get rather blunt and angsty when I get overloaded with thought.Ā
The funny thing is that the only reason I realized I had posted this was because I got an email notification that this blog is officially a year old. I canāt decide if the fact that the day I returned to this blog was its birthday is a serendipitousĀ or ominous turnout.Ā
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Itās loud,
frantic,
sickening.
My heart is moving much too fast,
My mouth going much too slow,
And my mind has altogether just stopped.
Is this what itās like to feel nothing?
Have I just been shocked, or horrified?
Whatever this is,
Itās much too
Loud.
-Souson
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You can smile, you can laugh, you can dream.
I sit here, watching.
You can gossip, you can sing, you can rejoice.
I sit here, watching.
You can do everything.
I do nothing.
You can be who you want to be.
I am who I was made to be.
You are free.
I am me.
Souson
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They laugh and whisper,
Their glances picking away at the remnants of my soul.
I feel withered and drained.
My life amounting to nothing but dust.
Souson
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I see white cords round my wrist,
remnants of pain and despair,
yet so light and freeing,
for they have taken the weight
of the heavy red shackles
that I had once worn.
SouSon
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Me: *is scrolling through dash, happily queueing away and making attempted reblogs of wit*
Me: *sees new activity, swipes over to see the unfortunate soul who stumbled onto my life*
Me: *suddenly sees name of sideblog instead of main*
Me: "DAMN IT THUMB WHY CAN'T YOU DO YOUR JOB AND CLICK THE RIGHT ACCOUNT TAB!?"
~a minute later~
Me: *calms self*
Me: *sees queue*
Queue: "There's only 65 signs of your failure left to be broadcast on the internet!"
Me: "...kill me now."
~some time later~ (yes there's more)
Me: "I'll just delete all the posts once the queue cycle finishes, but I might as well check and see if any more posts crawled past me."
My homepage: *insert column of roughly 34-37 posts*
Me: "............" *facedesks*
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Fear is suffocating,
it's bonds of pain scattered throughout my fractured psyche,Ā
and so here I lay,Ā
trapped within my broken spirit.
Souson
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When a child is born, there is much joy,
So much that love bursts forth from the heart.
When a monster is born, there is much hatred,
With disgust forming within the mind.
When a child becomes a monster, there is much sorrow,
And the soul is slowly frozen as the pain flows on.
SouSon
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