soph-writes

[soph-writes]

diary

so here i am again with my hodgepodge writing account. i dont really know whats wrong with me lately but im upset. maybe its my horomones or maybe its just all the emotions i bottle up trying to break free. no, i think thats exactly what it is. i know its not healthy to bottle things up all the time but its all im used to. i hate feeling weak, pathetic and vulnerable, and letting myself be emotional makes me feel all those...ive told my friends that sometimes i need to take breaks from them because i get unreasonably annoyed with their existence, but the truth is its not unreasonable. its just all the built up things they do that make me angry or upset that i never tell them. like now for instance, i muted all my social medias because i just dont want to deal with them. and when i get like this i genuinely hate them, and wish they werent in my life, because i shouldnt have to feel like walking on egg shells around them to spare their feelings. and maybe youll say i dont actually hate them in this moment and its just my anger speaking but its not. i truly hate them in this moment, and im ok with that because i should hate them. yes im not as emotional as them, and yes i allow myself to take on the brunt of whatever responsibilities we share, but thats because they never put in the effort. they always push things off till the last minute and just wing stuff, and maybe its my fault for wanting them to live up to my expectations and putting in just as much effort as i do to our projects. but how is that fair, how is it fair that i will throw in all this effort to our shared projects and basically do everything of importance by myself and they put in the bare minimum effort... i dont even know what im on about im just venting because i hate talking to people about my problems. if i talk to my mom or dad theyll just try and offer me solutions or say i should try things another way, and hile i appreciate them wanting to help, i dont want it. i just want them to listen to me and not give me advice. because then it feels like a lecture and yes im childish for thinking so, but thats what it feels like. and so now im here crying while writing because on top of all that hen i ask my brother to do me a favor he gets mad at me when it would only take 10 minutes to do, but im forced to help him everyday while hes at school. its so stupid to cry over something like this, but i was already having anxiety today for god knows why, and have only had one meal in the past two days probably cause i have a stupid eating disorder, and have been awake since 4am and usually only get 4 hours of sleep and stay up late because i hate myself. and the funny thing is the only person thats ever unpromtedly asked if im good mentally is some person ive never even met in person and have only known for a year now. and the answer is no, im not fucking ok because when i get like this the first thing i think or imagine is more like it, is a gun to the back of my head just waiting for me to pull the trigger. i imagine cutting myself to punish myself for being so ridiculous. and while ill never do it because i care too much about my family and know the effect suic8de has on family id never hurt myself even if im fucking tired. and thats what i am. i am so fucking tired of everything. im tired of having to be here. im tired of having to be in school. im tired of being scared for my future because i have no passions. im scared of not being me. im scared of everything. but i cant let it show because i wont allow myself too show it. im just tired of all this stupid bullshit. im tired of my friends saying things i dont agree ith and not even being able to call them out on it because they wont see it my way, or understand why it upsets me. im tired of my parents rushing me with my schooling when im not even sure what i want to do or study. im tired of everything.

#diary

[soph-writes]

Its about to be 5 am and I haven't slept yet. But have you ever just been real self aware, and identify that the reason you're feeling so suspect of someone or their actions isn't because they are actually suspect, but because of the things that you've experienced in the past that have shaded your way of viewing things. Like im very self aware of where most my issues come , but its always so weird to have a moment where I'm feeling suspicious of someone and at the same moment I'm like "no you're just being an idiot and the only reason you feel this way is because of x y z. And not because this person has done something disingenuous. " im like damn brain way to go make me feel this but also make me berate myself because we both know you're making things up. To mope or not to mope. Can you just choose one because moping and then berating myself for moping is annoying. JUST MAKE A CHOICE YOU WRINKLY THING

[soph-writes]

Fuck You.

Fuck you. 

Fuck you and your delusional sense of superiority. 

Fuck you and your unrealistic expectations of perfection.

I may say and act differently at times.

But I am a person still.

I am human.

I have emotions even if I don’t know how to identify them.

I have times where I just need to stop.

Times that I need to relax.

But no.

No.

That’s not acceptable to you.

To you, I deserve judgment.

To you, I don’t deserve reprieve.

To you, I am an annoyance.

A convenience.

A nothing.

I am tired of your cold-heartedness.

I am tired of your unwarranted apathy.

I am tired.

You call yourself a friend.

I call you a friend.

But what friendship is this.

How is this friendship.

People wish to believe in second chances.

But how.

How do you give people second chances,

When this is how you are repaid.

So Fuck You.

#original poem #poetry #poem #literature #anger #frustration #writing #poets on tumblr

[soph-writes]

Zombie Kid

A baby boy was born in a small village. He had pale skin and large eyes. While raising the boy, his mother naturally came to the realization that he had no feelings whatsoever. All he had was a desire to eat, like a zombie. So his mother locked him up in the basement so that the villagers wouldn't see him. And every night, she stole livestock from her neighbors to feed him.

That’s how she raised him in secret. One night, she'd steal a chicken. The next day, she'd steal a pig.

A number of years passed like that. Then one day, an epidemic broke out. It left the remaining animals dead, and it also killed many people. Those who survived the epidemic  left the village. But the mother couldn't leave her son all alone. And to appease her son crying of hunger, she cut off one leg of hers and gave it to him. After that, it was her arm. She gave him all her limbs.

When she was left with nothing but her torso, she embraced her son for the last time to let him devour what was left of her. With his both arms, the boy tightly held his mothers torso and spoke for the first time in life. "Mom. You're... so warm."

What did the boy really want? Satiating his hunger? Or feeling his mothers warmth?

#not mine #Netflix: Its Okay To Not Be Okay #Episode Four #Season One #i think ill post all the stories they narrate in the show #theyre all so good #literature

[soph-writes]

Listen To Me

You know that sad part about myself, the trait I find most detestable about myself? It’s my capacity to care for others. I am not one that can easily identify my own emotions, most times if i had to give a description of what I am feeling at any given moment I would likely say “its a blah sort of feeling, like the color grey if that were an emotion. Blah, you know?” I am also not one to really care for others I am very apathetic to the struggles of others and the emotions of others, but in contradiction to this, I do care deeply for others in a different sense. I don’t tell others the truth about how their words or actions affect me negatively because I worry that it in turn would affect them negatively. I worry that if I were to tell my father how I am no longer affected by the cruel words he says in anger is the really sad part of our relationship because it means I’ve grown so used to it that I’ve come to expect it, that he may hurt himself because he could be depressed without me knowing or that one day he may just leave our family behind if he decides we just aren’t worth his time anymore. I worry to tell my mother that the way she is constantly comparing me to others has made me so anxious about my future that I can’t imagine myself living to thirty years old because I don’t think I am capable of being successful enough to support myself or to tell her how I get angry with her way of grieving makes me angry because it doesn’t leave room for anyone else affected to grieve themselves, that she would hurt herself because I know she is depressed. I find it so detestable that I care so much for the most important people in my life that I don’t feel comfortable telling them how I really feel sometimes because I worry about their physical and mental health. I find it so detestable that I care so much for them that I cant tell them about how sometimes I’m not okay, that I can’t yell at them and tell them exactly why I act the way I do sometimes. That the reason I am always so angry and am so quick to anger is because of all the real anger I keep bottled up inside for their sakes. 

I do try and tell them sometimes, not all of it but some of it . I tell my mother that I am angry because I’m tired of being compared to others and being told that I need to change because “this isn’t how I raised you” that my apathy is a horrible trait and that I need to learn to care more for others. Feeling like she doesn’t think who I am is good enough, but she just says that she isn’t. She doesn’t hear that what she is saying regardless of her intentions are making me feel like I am being compared or that she doesn’t think I’m a good enough person. I try and advise my dad and explain to him that his treatment of others is going to make him lose people, that his bursts of anger is going to push people away. I try and advise him during his bursts of anger and make him see logic rather than react in anger as well because I love him and I don’t want him ruining the rest of his life or our relationship. But he just reacts in more anger, he yells that if I don’t like it then I should move out, that he doesn’t care if he loses his connections with us. I know he doesn’t mean it, that it’s just his clear anger issues speaking, but that doesn’t make it ok.

Sometimes I imagine grabbing a knife or pulling a gun out in front of them and holding it to my person. I imagine threatening them with my life, yelling at them, just to get them to listen to me. Just to get them to take me seriously. Just to get them to understand. But of course, I won’t because I don’t want to hurt them by doing so.

I am self-aware so I can acknowledge the fact that I am not innocent. I must make them feel awful to with my constant dismissal of their presence because I’d rather play video games or read a book than talk to them most times. That I must make them feel hurt with my judgment of them and that they too must feel like they are not good enough in my eyes because I can be cruel and harsh as well. No one is innocent. I just wish there was some way to get them to listen to me, I wish there was some way to get all of us to listen to each other, but unless all of us are willing I don’t think that’ll ever be possible and so we will just continue this harsh cycle of cruel words and anger. And the sad part is I’m used to that as well, because the only emotion I know I feel, when I feel it, is anger.

#literature #diary #writing #guns tw #suicide tw #self harm tw

[soph-writes]

Jake Gyllenhaal and Falkor the Ferret 

#my loves #i want a ferret

[soph-writes]

𝑰𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅.

Invisible weight in hand. I feel it.

My fingers wrapped around a make believe crescent moon. I feel it.

Head forced to the side, by invisible pressure. I feel it.

How easy it would be to press down. To give up.

I feel it.

I never thought in detail how I would do it. I just felt it.

One day out of the blue, the weight and pressure just appeared. I just felt it.

It’s not always there. Most of the time I don’t feel it.

Most of the time I can go weeks without feeling it.

But sometimes. Sometimes the weight and pressure come from nowhere and I feel it.

I feel it, but I don’t speak it. I can’t speak it. I don’t allow myself to.

So instead I talk to invisible people in my head, and explain to myself why I feel this.

I once had real weight in my hands. For fun. 

But before I used it for fun, the first thing I felt was how easy it would be.

How easy it would be to turn invisible pressure to my head into real pressure.

To press down, like I feel my invisible hands do every time. I felt it.

But I won’t.

I don’t want to die. 

So I keep on going.

Invisible pressure at my head, and weight in hand. I keep going. 

I keep feeling, until I’m ok again. ~original work

#tw sucidal thoughts #tw depression #tw gun #poetry #poem #original poem #poets on tumblr #poetscommunity #writer #writers on tumblr #raw #rough draft

[soph-writes]

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍.

Sometimes I am like a porcelain doll. Empty, hollow. No emotions, no heart, simply nothing.

And nothing? Nothing is great. 

Nothing means I can pretend to feel whatever I want.

Nothing means I can read a book and fill myself with whatever emotions it evokes, without shame. 

Nothing means that when I finish the book, I can shelf those emotions without worry of feeling them again. 

But, sometimes I feel like a stuffed doll. 

So full with emotions. 

Emotions that i don't want to feel. Emotions that make me feel so hopeless. 

Emotions that fill my head with awful thoughts. 

Yet I'm still a doll, so I wear a smile and play the part. 

I tell myself these emotions are pathetic, that I'm pathetic for feeling them. That it’s my fault I feel this way….

I wish I was always porcelain.

I wish that I felt nothing always. Because feeling anything is worse than feeling nothing. ~original work

#tw depression #poem #poets on tumblr #writer #original poem #raw #poetry #rough draft

[soph-writes]

𝒅𝒐 𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖?

do I trust you?

are you ok?

when you ask,

I say I’m ok,

I say don’t worry.

I say things

couldn’t be better.

but I tell you lies.

you used to know.

you used to be able

to tell.

but.

I got better.

I learned.

to tell better lies.

I trust you.

you’re the person

I trust most in the world.

but.

I can’t talk to you.

I feel like if I share with you

all these awful thoughts

running through My head.

I’ll push you away.

that you won’t talk to Me

about your own issues.

that you won’t let Me

be there for you,

the way you are for Me.

I hate it. 

and sometimes I hate you

I hate this feeling.

you’re the first person

I think to go to

when I feel

lost and hurt inside.

and now?

I go to no one.

I want to go to you.

I know I’m being dumb.

I love you.

and I know that I can always 

go to you.

but.

I feel like I shouldn’t

~original work

#part two #poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #poetscommunity #original poem #writer #writers on tumblr #insecure #love letter #words

[soph-writes]

𝒅𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆?

do You trust me?

are You ok?

when i ask,

You say You’re ok,

You say don’t worry.

You say things

couldn’t be better.

but i know

You tell me lies.

do You need to talk?

no, You tell me.

You say,

You don’t want

to hurt me.

You say it hurts,

that talking to me

about it.

makes it worse.

i say it’s ok

i tell You i understand.

and i do.

but.

it hurts.

i want to be there.

the way You are for me.

i want to be

the first person you go to.

i want You to trust me.

i know i’m being dumb.

i know that You do.

but.

i feel like You don’t.

~original work

#part one #poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #poetscommunity #original poem #writer #writers on tumblr #words

[soph-writes]

𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Sunshine Reflection--

A  feeble scarred moon.

Solace found in caramel grief.

With tender drunken melancholy words,

Lullaby dreams invade her fragile heart;

Terrified yearning invades her soul,

As lullaby dreams lure her deeper into his spellbinding arms.

Bound in melancholy love,

Bittersweet visions of the future heal her heart,

Reality wounding her,

drawing out molasses blood.

Surviving off caramel words and lullaby smiles.

-- The Sun Mirrored Moon.

~original work

#poetry #poem #original poem #poetscommunity #poets on tumblr #writer #writers on tumblr #yearning #love letter #words

[soph-writes]

𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒐 𝑨𝒕 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒍𝒐𝒃𝒆

Animate Venus of Milo,

Breathing Reality by Fiction.

Exorcising Tears through Story.

Waking from Neverland Dreams,

her Rivers turn to Ash as

Flesh cores cement over.

Inanimate Venus of Milo,

Observing Life at The Globe,

Wondering.

Her rivers turn to ash,

Trickling never so often,

Cement cores never fracturing.

Even at the Final exit

of water blessed mother

Rivers remain ash if only damp.

She wonders Not why but

If there is defect in her flawless surface.

At loss in The Globe's yard standing

She leaves to return,

Breathing Reality by Fiction.

Rivers run without dam,

Cores turn flesh,

For Fairytale loves.

In her Neverland Dreams,

The Venus of Milo Animates. 

~original work 

#poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #poetscommunity #writer #writers on tumblr #original poem #words