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#The Poet at Fifteen
ragewrites · 3 months
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During the fall leading up to my fifteenth birthday, I came very, very close to committing suicide. Today I turned twenty-five. I had that fifteen year old girl I almost wasn’t sit down with me for a metaphorical conversation.
transcript under cut:
[Fifteen Speaks to Twenty-Five] Leah Saint-John
Are you alive
Yes
Does it hurt
Yes
Are you glad
[instead of an answer there is a helpless look]
Is it all still green
Especially in June
Do you still love it
Especially in June
What colour is our blood
Garnet
It’s thickened
Yes
Is it a sickness
Yes
What does the garnet make you think of
Mouths God’s mouth The inside of His eye sockets
Are you happy
Sometimes
Is it enough
Sometimes
Are you lonely
Yes Garnet Like God
Did it get better
Yes No Yes Yes
Are you living
Yes Almost
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orangestripesblog · 5 months
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stupidkupi · 5 months
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i was fifteen when you left and i have been fifteen ever since.
unknown
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ATTENTION GEN Z, I know we hate poetry, but please, if you've ever felt alone, or hated technology, or hated Gen Alpha, please read this, repost, do whatever, but please, this was written for all of you <3
The news this morning 
Was talking about how we go to Chat GPT
For therapy
And advice
And my mother said it’s just because we don’t know how
To communicate face to face
When why should we?
You shoved an iPad into our faces
The second we were old enough to comprehend it
You put on the TV
And we believed the characters were speaking live
And they could see us
Through those pixels
Why shouldn’t we turn to a computer
To give us answers
When it’s that that gave us the issues to begin with?
Why shouldn’t we
Chat with a computer
About nothing and everything
When it is that 
That made us feel so isolated?
People wonder
Why we’re so concerned about Gen Alpha
And it’s obvious
When we think about it
It’s not because they’re growing up too fast
It’s because we know what it’s like
To have wires shoved into our veins
And now
Now they were born with them
Already pulsing through their blood
We don’t want them to make the same mistakes we did
But I think it’s too late,
They’re already turning into what we don’t want
Anyone
To ever be
And it’s scary to watch,
We know what technology has done to us
And we don’t want to watch anyone else
Succumb to it like we did
We are the last generation
Who went outside to play
And know what birds sound like
And wish to break their phones
We are the last generation
That will ever
Ever 
Have a normal childhood
Now we can just watch
As the depression rates get higher
And more young children know what suicide is
Too early
And learn how to self harm
And lose their innocence
And be scared of men
And not care for dolls
We are scared of them
But we’re scared for them
Of course we turn to AI to talk to
Our parents don’t get it,
They can barely find opening hours for a shop,
While we can find a 10-step guide on how to murder,
Or build a bomb,
And guides on how to manipulate your body
And everything is at our fingertips
This is generational trauma that they have created
We can watch someone shooting their brains out
And we can receive photos from anyone
And why do we know what everything we shouldn’t worry about is?
We had COVID
And we turned to screens
And went on TikTok
And created trends
And it felt like a community
Until everyone was there
And we couldn’t do anything
And we got addicted
And we can’t turn back
We started with chat rooms
And we found like minded-people
And it was always “sweetie, be careful of creeps on the internet”
And now it’s just
“Be in bed by 10”
But we’ll keep scrolling
And we all have friends who live half the world away
And if you mention that
Someone has to ask if you’ve called yet
And “have you seen their face?”
We can look at anything
There are guides for everything
We know where Kim K was two minutes ago
And why do I feel pressure to always have something on my story?
We talk to robots
Because no adults will ever know
How sick we feel 
Before we go on our phones
No adults can know
How we’ve seen every scar
And depression become a trend
And we have to use the hashtag actuallyautistc
No adults will know
How there are video essays on anything
And we shouldn’t know about everyone that has been raped
Or murdered
And we shouldn’t have wikihow
On how to be attractive
It started as a joke,
How stupid is this thing I found?,
But we keep reading it
And we start to believe it
Why would we read books?
Technology is constantly advancing
Everything is irrelevant in months
And we must be careful not to be cancelled
And a dress can divide a nation
We don’t want to watch Gen Alpha
Leap so blindy into their screens
Trusting what they read,
We want to keep it for us,
We have to live with it,
And as much as they suck,
It is our fault for staying 
And posting everything
We are a sad generation with happy pictures
And a face full of makeup
And we’re just perpetuating stereotypes
And you can’t like something unless you’re obsessed
We can know the cure for any medical condition
But there is no guide on how to destory our screens
And lives
And I know I’m fifteen
But this is ruining mine,
And so many others' lives.
We don’t want to see little kids
On their mums phones
And my mother defends it,
Saying mums just need a minute to breathe,
But please
Anything else
I don’t want to see a baby already addicted to CocoMelon
We don’t want to see
More people falling into a hole
And we know it’s why we’re sad
But nobody else should have to go through it,
That’s for us,
That’s an us problem
I saw a six year old
Using Drunk Elephant
And swearing in her GRWM
And none of that is fair,
How are we letting this slide?
But we can’t do anything
Because we don’t want to admit there’s a problem
We can learn anything about Hitler
And anything about Meryl Streep
And it can be within the same two fucking clicks
I remember
When my age on TikTok clocked over to 15
A few days before my actual birthday
And it was then
That all I saw was suicide notes,
And self harm scars
And how to hide things from your parents guides
And abuse stories
There was no going back,
Every other person whose a teenage girl on the app
Is probably met with the same things as me
The algorithm
Is designed to show you a positive video
Every few scrolls
Just to keep you hooked,
And it works,
It’s a science,
It works to a T
We can know where any friend is
And read receipts plague us
And anything will be screenshot
And used against you
School thought taking away our phones 
Would fix this,
Like it’s a magical cure,
When all it’s teaching us
Is how addicted we are,
And how best to hide an earbud
And we need music to concentrate!
Or course we do,
We have constant stimulation
It is never quiet
There is always a voice talking
We are getting mad at kids for being on a phone
When we all know
We’re just mad that it is actually happening
And we can’t warn them
And no one will listen
Because how could it be that bad?
In ten years
People who grew up with technology 
Are going to end up with something like PTSD
Because we can’t let go of it
We can’t put it down,
We can get an essay written for us in seconds,
And Dall-E can make anything for us
So of course we’ll talk to AI,
It’s better than talking to a real person
And acting like we’re okay,
We’d rather sit behind a screen
And control sims
And listen to music
So we can’t hear our minds
Every time I scroll through
I’m met with tales of girls who get killed by their fathers,
Every time I scroll through
I’m showen another 7 second video
With sad litte text
On sad little faces
We want to escape,
We want to tear our veins out,
Rip the wires,
Shove them back in to our body
After we re-wire our brains,
Of course,
Because we can diagnose ourselfs with any mental illness
That we see fit
Because there has to be something wrong with you
We will never go back,
It is impossible 
We have Whispers from Pinterest
And sad purple quotes
Lining our camera roll
Which should highlight our happy moments
But is just videos of us crying
It has ruined relationships,
How dare we follow another guy,
How dare he like another girl's photo?
We have our music right there
We don’t have to learn lyrics,
We can play any instrument,
We must like Taylor Swift,
We must have Kanye West
Everything is a trend
And your clothes must match your aesthetic
And you have to be funny
Or smart
Or creative
And how dare we burn out?
How dare we burn out
When if we didn’t rot in our beds
Scrolling aimlessly
Would solve half our problems?
There is no fix now,
We have to watch them grow up
Knowing they’ll ask what this-big-word is
Before they’re even five
Because an ad came up on mummy’s phone
And “what’s a vape?”
And “am I fat?”
All we can do now
Is listen to our sad songs
And act like social media
Didn’t ruin our perceptions
On everything.
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kateubanks · 5 months
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walking the dogs at five a.m. cinnamon ignites the air from my mouthmouthmouth.
the white, fluffy bastard makes a run for it, towards kids waiting for the county bus route (the schoolhouse is an hour away).
my arm lunges straight from its socket, and i nearly become another distended, clicking, full-of-dog-shit, October pile of mud.
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viverid · 5 months
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a sound wont soften it
a sound wont soothe it
cloaks laughter
prescription symptoms
a mezzanine split
divided by gallows and angels
on a five ten fifteen
glass eyes twice over
insect empathy
in sense of an insect perspective
forget a five ten countdown
forget how to count and then
consider happiness as an easy way out
only think about good things
making friends with street cats and
finding cigarette packets
these solutions are simple
all things end and all things pass
after all
one way or another
after all
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inmylavenderhaze · 22 days
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“Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now…from sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes” is HEART WRENCHING
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ghostsofmemories · 1 year
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from bigger dreams of mine
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"Pretend there was no love so sweet that you would have died for it, pretend that it does not belong to someone else now, pretend like your heart depends on it because it does."
Read it here | Reblog for a larger sample size!
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creatingnikki · 1 year
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2012
first kiss, summer. sick, throwing up. you, you will make me feel better. your home, afternoon. alone, lights off. want to go into the bedroom? lie down, I’ll turn on the air conditioner. sunlight pouring in through the ends of the curtains. love, my first love. jittery, watched so many rom com movies and American TV shows. normal, right? this? this is normal. first kiss, at fifteen. purple t-shirt, lie down next to me. giggle, play around. hug? side hug? don’t want to crush you. you were crushing me. kiss. kiss. sweet, slow, soft. no. shove tongue down my throat. saliva. so much saliva. pause, where? where are the soft whispers? words of affection? pause. pause. you won’t pause. your hands, my body. stop. pause. please. what’s happening. the door bell rings. save me. 
2018 
second kiss, rain. 21, adult now. won’t let anyone hurt me. first date, reckless behaviour. your home? sure. maroon lipstick, matte. can’t stop staring. hi. hey. wow, you literally have goosebumps. instant noodles, your bed. awkward. it’s been almost seven years, I wonder, do I remember? remember how to kiss? closer, almost any minute now. saliva, too much saliva. flash backs, tears. you stop, startled, are you okay? nod no, you decide to step away. come back with a bowl of noodles. feed me, I cry and try to talk. soothe me, hug me, make me laugh. you, goofy and silly and cute. me, scarred, healing, hurting, trying. 
2022
third kiss, winter. it’s been four years, had not bothered. love? sex? relationships? romance? what is that? but you. on a Wednesday, in a café I watched it begin again. twenty-five now, know a little of who I am. what I want. you. books, banter, coffee, handholding, quirks, giggling. warmth. warm hands. soft hands. waiting, waiting. intense eye contact, this is the moment. make a move, why won’t you make a move. corner seat, closer now. dominant emotion? kiss me. can I, you ask. you won’t, won’t hurt me. the moon, look, beautiful. yes, so beautiful - your eyes on me. on the way back home, masks, love in the time of covid. two minutes before, rushed kisses. urgency, your soul, I have known. but, life. goodbye. fondness is never enough. 
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in-burning-red · 22 days
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something so poetic about “in your life you’ll do things greater dating the boy on the football team” being sang with the song that started said relationship with a boy on the football team
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maryannmackey · 8 months
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One afternoon while the kids were at school, I was cleaning the house, listening to an episode of Nora McInerny's podcast, Terrible, Thanks for Asking. Her guest, Eve Rodsky, told a story about being on a trip with several close friends when everyone's husbands were calling or texting. Where were the snacks? Did they need a birthday present for the party? What time was soccer? Instead of staying overnight on that trip as planned, many of her friends went home, because it was easier to do the work themselves- finding the snacks, getting the gift, managing soccer- than to walk their husbands through doing it, or to deal with the anxious calls or snarky texts.
She came back from her trip and started to make a spreadsheet of all the tasks that were her responsibility in her marriage - all the things on her plate, big and small. It ended up growing into a massive spreadsheet, which she emailed to her husband as a way of opening up a conversation about the division of labor in their home.
I can't do that. It's too late to do anything about the inequity in my now-kaput marriage. But I made a list of tasks anyway. I wanted to see in black and white what I'd been doing in the marriage. Reader, I was going to show you the list, but I decided against it. You don't need the list.
Looking at it, I thought, No wonder so many divorced men get remarried right away and so many divorced women stay on their own. I saw something I'm still trying to process: My life looked surprisingly like my mother's. My mother didn't go to college, married at twenty, and had me at twenty-four. I went to college and graduate school, published my first book and got married at twenty-eight (at which age she already had three children), and had my children in my thirties. Still, still, my life looked a lot like hers.
-You Could Make This Place Beautiful (A Memoir)- Maggie Smith
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orangestripesblog · 4 months
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edgeof-great · 10 months
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FIFTEEN MINUTES
Happiness and sadness,
Love or hate
As i say, it only takes
Fifteen minutes to destroy or save
Begging for help or helping someone
A step can take or give burden
As i say, it only takes
Fifteen minutes to destroy or save
Loving someone or leaving them
A small act can make that happen
Let it end or let it start
A moment can make a person carve a heart
As i say, it only takes
Fifteen minutes to destory or save
-shreea
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Nothing’s impossible
But everything I want
Seems very
Very
Unlikely. 
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faeriefolklores · 2 years
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a monologue: teen life crisis
i am fifteen, growing and scared of aging. i am fifteen and there's so much to know, so much to feel, so much to lose. to feel too much and not even close to being enough—i am fifteen and a stranger to myself. i now go to senior high school and i hate all the systems except the creation of language— i hate the neoliberal education crisis slaving me since nursery. i now go to stem and still my love-hate relationship with science transcends.
i am fifteen, and i feel like my room for mistakes is full that i have to move out to a new house. but moving out means bearing your burdens and i already have a lot on my plate. there are these things that weigh my fingers though i am empty-handed. even the backpacks i carry don't seem to be the lightest burdens anymore. they grow heavier too in daytime. even the sun doesn't feel gentle, nor the rain a little calmer. there's nothing subtle in girlhood, really, it makes my palms callused, it murders the tenderness of being young. i am fifteen and whenever i spend lunchtime with friends in a fast food chain (or sometimes a karinderya because we are saving up money), i look across the ones who dine in alone and i am scared that one day only our laughters will echo.
i am fifteen and time is getting cruel. i feel it moving, its trajectory passing through me that i cannot catch up. i am running out of time and i am fifteen and i am running now and i am fifteen and they told me to not rush and i am fifteen and they told me to take a breath but i am fifteen and time overtakes me and i am fifteen and not so fit for a race and i am fifteen but i am still running and i am fifteen and everything is non-stop. is this how you make every second count? no commas in betweens and compounding every sentence and always writing "and".
for time is not only passing, it is also changing. it is a noose that got me on chokehold, everytime i run away from it, my throat gets strangled and i ache to breathe like i haven't in years. but i cannot stop. my breathing gets shorter. i am fifteen and i feel so old, and there are times when change reminds me i have grown and i would try to shun away from it because if i do not, i would cry in front of our new lunch table for reminiscing the laughters and stories exchanged in the old seats. i am fifteen and my joints often get strained after few kilometers of long walks. (and yet, i am still running?) maybe that is why i prefer biking.
fuck, am i fifteen?! it sometimes feels like i stopped aging at thirteen. sometimes i feel like i am forever in a certain age i try to relive over and over. i am fifteen and soon i would not be. there is this shallowness i try to deepen, yet there are depths i cannot swim and i try to make sense of it all but i shall pity the next ones who will spend nights cursing my name for theorizing something to send them into all-nighters. how funny, i am fifteen and in dire need to be remembered. i do not want to be one of the regulars, but i feel so mundane. how do i try to not try? i do not shine so bright, i am an operator in the backdrop clapping her hands.
i am fifteen and so scared, still. screw it. i would never be fifteen again.
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