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heart-of-poetry · 2 months

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btw this is about a girl I met at a party yesterday who opened up to me about how she is bisexual, but doesn’t feel particularly able to express that part of herself due to experiences she’s had in the past. I was just like…wow. I went through the same thing at the same time. Could we have saved each other? Could I still save her? Could I resurrect the part of her that she lost, the part that I fought for years to uncover in myself? It would have all been easier, gentler if we’d have had each other then. Maybe it can be easier and gentler now.

do you ever meet someone and they tell you about the things they’ve struggled with in the past and you’re just like … damn. I wish I would’ve been there when you were little. I could’ve saved you. You know…I could have kissed the bruises on your back…yadda yadda yadda

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heart-of-poetry · 2 months

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do you ever meet someone and they tell you about the things they’ve struggled with in the past and you’re just like … damn. I wish I would’ve been there when you were little. I could’ve saved you. You know…I could have kissed the bruises on your back…yadda yadda yadda

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heart-of-poetry · 3 months

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I started reading self help books when I was about twelve years old. I spent all of my free time reading, researching, making lists. I could have titled my lists in many different ways: “Ways to Be a Better Person,” “Things I Need to Work on,” “How to Make Myself Better.” They all meant the same thing. They mean the same thing I mean now when I cry over my reflection in the mirror and journal about all of the mistakes I’ve made in this life. I’ve always wanted to fix myself. I’ve always wanted to be more than I am.

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heart-of-poetry · 3 months

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I am more my father’s child than my mother’s daughter. I wish I could say the opposite, but it would not be true. I am clenched fists with nails digging into my skin. I am marked with scars inflicted by my own hands. I am shaking with anger. I have sharp teeth and I bite. If you tried to get close to me, I would run. I am my father’s child. I have his nose and his eyes and his anger that is too big for my heart to hold.

#wlw #wlw yearning #literature #writing #webweaving #yearning #out of my collection #spilled prose #poetic prose #prose poetry #daddy issues #prose writing #dark prose #prose poem #mommy issues #on childhood #childhood #childhood trauma

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heart-of-poetry · 4 months

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The current trend where people post a picture of their current self and a picture of their younger self with the lyrics “I’m so sorry that they pick you last” is bringing up a lot for me. It’s so grueling to look back and think “I could have saved you. Who I am now could have saved who I was then. None of this had to happen.” But of course, it’s a never ending loop. Who I am now only exists because of who I was then, so I could not have saved who I was then without going through everything it took to get to who I am now. Anyway, I thought-spiraled into going through all of my old messages, going as far back as to middle school. It is so heartbreaking to see how truly cruel people were to me. I was so lonely and all I wanted was for people to love me. I tried so hard to get their love. My messages were lengthy, bubbly and cheery. I cared about people, I asked them questions and tried to get to know them, to let them know that I was interested in their lives and who they were. At the time, I had to believe that they were my friends. That they loved me. I needed to believe it. But looking back, I can see how much those things were not true. They would respond with short, rude, cold, uninterested messages. They would never contact me without being contacted first. It almost even appears that they were manipulating my kindness, profiting off of how desperate for love I was. They seemed to be making fun of me, silently laughing at my attempts to receive their love and care. I just feel so bad for my younger self. I feel bad about the world. It makes me deeply sad that such a pure girl who was just trying to be kind and connect with others was met by people who were careless with her heart and abusive of her compassion. I wish I could’ve been there. I wish I could’ve offered her a heart that matched her own.

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heart-of-poetry · 4 months

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also if you are feeling like I was last year, I am sorry. I hope you fight and I hope you stay, because there are better things coming for you. It’s cliche and it sounds like crap when you are feeling so sad it aches in your body, and I can’t promise it will get better right away, but it will get better at some point, and it’s worth sticking around for. I love you guys and I hope you have a wonderful holiday!

I keep having this moment and it feels so light and airy and special. It feels like a sigh of relief, like that moment when you lay down in bed after a long day and feel your muscles exhale. Last year, on my way home for Christmas, I was begging my parents to get me help because I felt so suicidal and burdened with depression. This year, after a suicide attempt and long recovery, I finally feel happy. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but at some point, lightness slipped back into my mind and made its home there. I can’t help but be brought to tears at the beauty of it all. I’m still here. I’m still here. Against my will. I fought hard to leave and some part of me saved me. Something in me kept me alive and brought me to this moment. To this joy. To this peace. I am grateful for that now, though there was a point in my life where I wouldn’t have been. It is truly a miracle that I survived and I feel that in every molecule of my body.

#prose #my poem #short poem #poetry #love poem #poem #poets on tumblr #original poems #actually mentally ill #mental illness #mental health

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heart-of-poetry · 4 months

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I keep having this moment and it feels so light and airy and special. It feels like a sigh of relief, like that moment when you lay down in bed after a long day and feel your muscles exhale. Last year, on my way home for Christmas, I was begging my parents to get me help because I felt so suicidal and burdened with depression. This year, after a suicide attempt and long recovery, I finally feel happy. I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but at some point, lightness slipped back into my mind and made its home there. I can’t help but be brought to tears at the beauty of it all. I’m still here. I’m still here. Against my will. I fought hard to leave and some part of me saved me. Something in me kept me alive and brought me to this moment. To this joy. To this peace. I am grateful for that now, though there was a point in my life where I wouldn’t have been. It is truly a miracle that I survived and I feel that in every molecule of my body.

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heart-of-poetry · 4 months

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Saw this and had to share. I feel the same way. Queer friendships are as close to divinity and holiness as I have ever gotten and will ever get. What a gift it is to have that community

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heart-of-poetry · 4 months

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I could cry. I love my coach so much. I cherish her presence in my life. She is likely unaware of the ways in which she elevates my life, but she really means so much to me. I have never before felt like someone truly believed in me or saw me as being a strong, capable person. She believes those things about me. She makes me believe them too. It is so special to have a person like that in my life. Someone who holds me to a high standard, who gives me the space and guidance I need to rise to those higher levels. Someone who speaks to me warmly and looks me in the eye when she talks to me. Someone who humanizes me, who removes me from being an outsider and brings me in toward a family. I truly feel such a magnetic, deep love for her. I am so grateful for the fact that she’s been gifted to me, placed in my life. It’s moments like this where I think that maybe someone is watching out for me, maybe angels are real. Love is carrying me through, connections are guiding me toward a deeper joy.

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heart-of-poetry · 5 months

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I am seventeen and spending Thanksgiving all alone. I am the loneliest girl in the world.

thanksgiving 2006 by Ocean Vuong

#ocean vuong #poetry #poem #wlw #wlw yearning #literature #writing #webweaving #yearning #out of my collection #on loneliness #there is absolutely nothing lonelier #loneliest #loneliest girl in the world #mentally disordered #mentally unstable #actually mentally ill #mentally fucked

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heart-of-poetry · 5 months

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Not to mention…my mother took it upon herself to inform my dad, my grandparents, my aunts, my uncles, and pretty much everyone she could think of about my sexuality. I was not ready. I was so terrified and I told my sister I was gay as a start. I was not ready to come out to everyone in my life or to exist as a gay woman yet. It should have been my choice. It should have been on my timeline. I am very very angry at them. My sister was a child so I can understand it more, but my mother? She was a grown adult. And she thought that she should tell everyone my own deeply personal information without so much as asking me if it was okay. I felt so out of control that day. I never had so much anxiety in my life. My whole body felt shaky and it felt like I was having a heart attack. It just…shouldn’t have happened that way.

Reminiscing on my “coming out.” I was so scared. So small, so shaky. So, so scared for so long. It had been over a year of sexuality related anxiety and OCD taking over my life. It almost drove me to take my life. I didn’t want to be who I knew I was that much. Finally…one day, I got the courage to tell someone. I told my sister. I really said it, I said the words “I’m gay” out loud. I did it. It felt like a relief. I was still terrified and shaky, but I was glad to have another person to hold this with me. And then…that same night my sister outed me to my entire family. She didn’t mean to hurt me. I found out that she had been cutting herself, so I told my mom for her safety. In an effort to take my moms attention off of her cutting, she outed me. In front of her friends and my mothers friends. It hurt me so much because this meant that she viewed being gay as something so bad and horrible that it could top her harming herself. I remember getting that text from my mom, feeling my heart drop out of my chest, feeling my throat tighten up. “____ is saying that you’re a lesbian. Is that true?” my mom texted me. She sounded so accusatory, like she was hoping my sister was lying. When they returned to the house, they looked at me differently. They acted nervous and unsure around me. Like I was some caged animal that could break out at any moment. I will never forget that night. It took me so long and it took so much courage for me to tell my sister, and I needed her support because I didn’t have it in me to give it to myself. But she didn’t give me that. She took my chance to come out on my own terms away from me. And she made it more dangerous for me. My family already treated me differently than my other siblings, but this pushed them over the edge. It was just another thing to other me, to separate me from others. I really understand the pain she was in and the reasoning behind her doing it, but I can’t forgive that. She took something from me that can’t ever be given back.

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heart-of-poetry · 5 months

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Reminiscing on my “coming out.” I was so scared. So small, so shaky. So, so scared for so long. It had been over a year of sexuality related anxiety and OCD taking over my life. It almost drove me to take my life. I didn’t want to be who I knew I was that much. Finally…one day, I got the courage to tell someone. I told my sister. I really said it, I said the words “I’m gay” out loud. I did it. It felt like a relief. I was still terrified and shaky, but I was glad to have another person to hold this with me. And then…that same night my sister outed me to my entire family. She didn’t mean to hurt me. I found out that she had been cutting herself, so I told my mom for her safety. In an effort to take my moms attention off of her cutting, she outed me. In front of her friends and my mothers friends. It hurt me so much because this meant that she viewed being gay as something so bad and horrible that it could top her harming herself. I remember getting that text from my mom, feeling my heart drop out of my chest, feeling my throat tighten up. “____ is saying that you’re a lesbian. Is that true?” my mom texted me. She sounded so accusatory, like she was hoping my sister was lying. When they returned to the house, they looked at me differently. They acted nervous and unsure around me. Like I was some caged animal that could break out at any moment. I will never forget that night. It took me so long and it took so much courage for me to tell my sister, and I needed her support because I didn’t have it in me to give it to myself. But she didn’t give me that. She took my chance to come out on my own terms away from me. And she made it more dangerous for me. My family already treated me differently than my other siblings, but this pushed them over the edge. It was just another thing to other me, to separate me from others. I really understand the pain she was in and the reasoning behind her doing it, but I can’t forgive that. She took something from me that can’t ever be given back.

#wlw #wlw yearning #wlw community #wlw art #wlw post #queer history #queer politics #queer issues #queer pride #queer community #queer writers #coming out #internalized homophobia #internalized queerphobia #internalized shame #shame #ashamed

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heart-of-poetry · 5 months

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Is it just me or is anyone else absolutely terrified of any and all forms of intimacy???? like when I had my first kiss, I wasn’t excited or giddy, I was literally shaking with anxiety. Idk why. Like I was so worried that I wouldn’t know how to kiss or that the kiss would be bad and it would be the one thing to send this person off.

Oh. I see…this is an abandonment issues thing. Of course. It’s always the abandonment issues

#abandonment #abandoned #abandonment issues #daddy issues #childhood trauma #on childhood #mentally disordered #mentally unstable #actually mentally ill #mentally tired #mentally fucked #mental illness #intimacy issues #scared of intimacy #scared of love #love is scary

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heart-of-poetry · 5 months

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Sometimes it hits me right in the face just how lonely I am. I am so lonely. Do you know how it feels? To exist in a world where you know that nobody knows you closely, not even a little bit? To know that if you died today, nobody would know what your favorite movie was or what your favorite song was or how you like your tea? Do you really know how it feels? To watch your friends spend their weekends together, laughing and going out, while you sit in your room rotting away? To eat dinner alone every lonesome night while you hear the echoes of your family in the dining room? I am isolated, so othered. It is not just that I am lonely. I no longer feel like a person, I feel as though I do not exist. Each day it feels as though I am being erased. I am the only one who can preserve me. I am the only one who can remember my favorite movie and my favorite song and how I like my tea. If I forget those details, they are gone. I exist only within the realm of myself. If I am removed from the equation, I do not exist. Do you understand? Do you really, truly get it?

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heart-of-poetry · 5 months

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I woke up the next morning. My pupils opened up toward the glow of the sun and I had lived to see another day. Just the night before, I had said my goodbyes. I had shed my last tear. I had made peace with my time in the world. But…my blood was still warm when I opened my eyes.

“You have been given another chance to live!” My sister wept. The words echoed in the back of my mind.

“But I don’t want to live.” I whispered. She never heard what I said.

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heart-of-poetry · 5 months

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just thinking ab how we had just spent hours together, laughing and talking. I painted her nails, she held me in her arms and brushed her fingers through my hair. She stayed at my house so long, it was nearly midnight on a school night. She kept ignoring her mothers calls just to spend more time with me. As we walked down the stairs when she absolutely had to leave, she said “walk me out?” She just wanted to have one more moment with me, and one more, and one more. Always one more.

Love is so endlessly beautiful. Love is pushing back sleep just to spend another moment in your lovers arm. Love is walking your lover to their car so you get one last good look at their face.

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heart-of-poetry · 5 months

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people making comments where ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’ are used as insults or to make fun of someone and then following it with “not that there’s anything wrong with that” is the equivalent of a white person making racist comments and then justifying it with “I have a black friend.”

if you truly support the queer community, don’t perpetuate hateful beliefs by encouraging an environment where being queer is used to ridicule and ostracize others. even if you meant it as a harmless joke, there are people in the room who see your behavior as enablement for them to be hateful and homophobic and to write it off as a “joke.”

bad behavior is bad behavior. doing something in a playful manner does not erase the consequences of your actions.

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