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off-tip-of-my-tongue · 21 days

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The Contradictions of Childhood Friends

Written 4-8-24

I thought about you again today (I did a few days ago too)

It’s been a while since last time I did (no it hasn’t, liar)

It’s your birthday today (…)

I nearly forgot (again)

I sent you a text (I don’t even know if you have that account anymore)

I hope you see it (I really don’t know if I do)

I’d love to catch up with you again (I’m scared of what you’d say about me now)

I wonder what you’ve been up to (we’re such different people than we were)

It’s been years (it feels like seconds)

It feels like seconds (it’s been years)

Do we still like the same games? (Do we still have things in common?)

I miss you (I really really do)

No I don’t (I don’t know)

We weren’t even that close, right? (I told you almost everything)

You weren’t even that nice to me (better than most people were though)

I hated some of your other friends (you hated some of mine too)

I never said it to your face (I never said a lot of things to your face)

I hope you’re doing ok (Do you ever think about me? Do you miss me sometimes?)

I always got the feeling that things were never as good with you as you made them out to be… (I was the same way)

I hope you’re not doing too horribly (like me)

I know most people can’t say that these days (things have really gone downhill for me)

I had no idea the last time I saw you in person would be that (no one did)

I would’ve said so much more to you (…)

Like thank you for staying with me for all these years, and I’m sorry this will be the last time we really talk, and I wish you didn’t treat me that way I didn’t have anyone else to go to, and I love you like a brother, or at least I did back then (I don’t even know you anymore)

Would you recognize me if we passed each other on the street? (Would I recognize you?)

I’ve changed a lot over the years (surely you have too. In what ways are you different?)

I look a lot different than the little girl you knew (she’s dead and buried. I’m so sorry for your loss)

But in a lot of ways, I’m still the same person I was (In what ways are you the same?)

Are you happy? (Am I? Is anyone?)

I hope you are (I hope you are)

I owe you more than I could ever give you (You hurt me in some ways)

I hope our time together was enough to repay some of it (I know you didn’t mean to, I didn’t either)

I had fun chasing you around a playground all those years ago (I don’t hate you for it. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.)

I’m so sorry about how it all happened (how it all ended)

I would’ve at least liked to say goodbye to your face (goodbye)

I miss you (do you miss me?)

Happy Birthday

Good night

#it’s being sad abt childhood friends hours #there’s no way he’ll ever see this #and even if he does there’s no way he’ll know it’s me #(that’s kinda the point of the account)#but if he does see this #and somehow knows it’s me #hey man #it’s been a while #I miss you #I hope you’re alright #take care of yourself #have a good birthday #goodnight #shit poem #poetry #shit poetry #sad poem #poem post

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off-tip-of-my-tongue · 2 months

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Ok when I rewatched a Deltarune play through from a let’s play channel I only got into a couple months ago, that was normal

When I started rewatching the Jacksepticeye Undertale play through, that was a bit odd, but not too weird

But I’ve been rewatching Aphmau’s MyStreet series. The whole thing. In chronological order. I’m almost finished. It’s been like three days. The last time I watched this show I was like 9. I’ve finally admitted to myself that I’m watching comfort shows cause I’ve been stressed, there is LITTERALLY no other explanation

And it’s honestly??? Not as cringe as I remember???? Actually now that I’m older and can understand deeper topics?????? It’s actually kinda good?????????? I remember it being terrible?? Buts it’s honestly not??????????????????? Lmao

#going through my weird kid phase part 2 ig #vent post #sorta #more like #half joking #vent thingy #not a poem #yerp #mystreet #kinda a weird post to maintag but idgaf

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off-tip-of-my-tongue · 2 months

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That Girl

3-10-24

I killed that girl

No one knows it was me

I’m not sure when it happened

Only that it did

Only that I did it

I cut up the body and split up the pieces

They’re all buried in different places

There’s a piece hidden in the old library in the kids section

A piece in both of the old grocery stores

A piece in the mall she went to with her sister

There’s a piece on the city bus

And at her sister’s middle school

There’s a piece in her mom’s old car somewhere underneath the back seat

There’s a piece or two at the park, even though it’s been remodeled since then

A piece of her is hidden in each and every class she went to in elementary

Almost as many are hidden in that school’s playground, in all the spots she used to play with friends

There’s a piece buried underneath every house on her walk home from school

But there aren’t nearly as many pieces as at the old house

Every room has a piece of her, hidden in the floorboards, in the drywall, in the ceiling

I’m surprised her blood hasn’t seeped through by now

I’m surprised that not a single piece of her has been found

And maybe there’s part of her at my house too

Maybe one in the park nearby, where the woods were before the trees were cut down

I wish someone would find her

I almost want to get caught

I can’t take the guilt anymore

I see her everywhere I go

I hear her voice

All of her family love me but they don’t know she’s dead

They don’t know what I did to her

Some times I wonder what she’d say to me if she saw me now

If she watched them call me by her name

I hate that I know she’d by happy

I hate that I’m so much like her

It makes it so much easier to hide her severed pieces

Yet so much more heart-wrenching too

I miss her so much

Or do I just miss how I felt?

I know that’s it

I hear her ghost in my ears every day

I see her ghost in my reflection

I wish she would go away

I wish I was her again

I wish that she was really dead

But nothing ever really dies

It just changes into something different…

#tw gore #I mean like kinda #basically just being trans and nb and stuff #I’m the same person but also feel like the me I was as a kid is dead?#and like nobody knows?#they call me her name and have no idea that she’s buried beneath the floor boards?#they don’t know I’m a knockoff at best?#at yet?#why do I know she’d by proud to know she turned out to be me?#because she always wanted to look different than she did?#and I think she would like it?#even though I chopped off the beautiful long hair she thought she was so proud of?#and yet the thought of growing it out again makes me want to vomit?#hahaha just me being me ig lol #sad poem #shit poem #poetry #shit poetry #poem post

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off-tip-of-my-tongue · 2 months

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Respect

??-??-23

Respect

They talk of respect

Of treating people a certain way, because they are (better, more useful, more important, stronger, more of everything) older than you

I am meant to respect him as my father

My mother says that to me in a rushed, whispered voice on a day when I feel brave

The same father she shit talks about to me when ever given the chance

The same father that hardly ever helps her with anything

The same father that gets drunk off his ass all day and all night and makes a nuisance of himself wherever he goes, yet somehow manages to convince people that he’s something so much more important than he is

The same father I am meant to “respect”

I don’t respect him

I love him, of course, for the days he is kind, for the days he buys me things and takes me places, for the days we make light conversation and easy banter and I can call him my dad and hardly even question whether or not he drank more than a few

I struggle to like him most days though, especially as the good days seem to only get fewer and further between

Respect him? Hardly.

I can’t tell you if I’ve respected him at all in the last two (Five? Seven? Ten? More?) years, let alone tonight when he can’t seem to stop running his mouth about people I respect far more than him

He talks of my sister, talks about like she’s evil, or a fuck-up or something along those lines, admittedly, I try to tune him out when I can

The same sister who supports me in most things more than any ever has with anything

My mother tells me to respect my father, as though the two of them aren’t the reason I learned to cry near silent and suppress my emotions, skills I had become proficient in by age ten, skills I master more every year, every time there is a day like this one

My father talks ill of my sister as though she isn’t the one who taught me how to draw, taught me how to get invested into things, who taught me how to have a friend

He speaks of her as though she is nothing, and yet to me she is everything

She cooks for me as often as he does.

She’s been there for all of my big moments

I owe my life and my sanity and my motivation and my passion and even most of my interests to her

I make an excuse to go to my room when he gets home, he makes me laugh and want to scream in equal measure, even if the negatives seem to outweigh the positives more and more by the day

He praises me for being agreeable in the same sentence he puts her down for having half a spine

As if that trait hasn’t been screamed into me by him and the woman trying to tell me to respect him

It’s been years (months… weeks… days… seconds) since that happened but if you ask me what they said, I could recite it word for word

It’s been burned into my mind

I want to forget it but I can’t

I’ll never be able to and I know it

She tells me to respect him because he’s my dad

I respond to her, incredulous, asking if she’s just going to let him talk about her like that

She says that sometimes it’s easier that way

As if my sister hasn’t been there for me when they never were, as if she hasn’t been there for me when the thing I needed to be protected from was them, because they don’t know how many times I’ve texted her, telling her they were arguing, yelling, while I was on the verge of tears, lost in thought, only for her to respond almost immediately, telling me to put my headphones on, to watch something I like

I hate listening to him talk about her that way

For a second I can even half convince myself I hate him, as much as I know I’ll never be able to, not really (I’m not even sure if I want to hate him, maybe it’s just because I know it’d be easier if I did)

He talks about her

My mother tells me to respect him

The closest I can do to honor that is to stop myself from screaming at him

(“Get her name out of your fucking mouth!”)

#tw childhood trauma #tw verbal abuse #kinda but not really #?#idk man #I don’t like to think abt it too hard #sad poem #shit poem #poetry #shit poetry #poem post

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off-tip-of-my-tongue · 2 months

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Unnamed

??-??-23

The word love gets over saturated

Said too often, it dulls in meaning

Most often, not said at all

The unspoken words take form in actions, consciously or not

Small unheard, unspoken whispers aimed toward family