don't you fall
for the prince charming trap...
if it looks like it's love
but feels like an act,
break out of those bars
and take your heart back.
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[Limerence]
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Who was I?
Sometimes I still get angry at myself, my past self. I get angry at her for not knowing things sooner. I get angry at her for putting every troubled soul around her before hers. I get angry at her for letting me suffer for so long. I get angry at her for the energy and time she wasted, energy and time I’ll never get back. There’s a fine line between helping and enabling, and I just wish she had known the difference.
Sometimes I feel a bit bad for myself, my past self. I get sad knowing how many nights she cried herself to sleep. I get sad remembering panicking if she didn’t have something to distract herself with. I get sad when I remember every time she said the words, “I’m not suicidal, but if something were to happen, I think I’d be okay with that.” If you feel bad for yourself, it’s time to help yourself, and I just wish she had shown up for herself sooner.
Sometimes I wonder who she was, because I don’t exactly remember. I remember her life, but not the thoughts behind her actions. I get confused knowing there was apart of her that felt comfortable in chaos. I get confused when I think about what made her go back after packing up all her things and having everything ready to go in the car. Crazy how many wrong approaches there are to getting what you want in life.
Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and do it all over again…differently. Because that would yield a different outcome. But come to think of it, the person I am right now in this very moment is the outcome. I don’t have to wish she had realized sooner, because I realize now. -t
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The Narcissist's Masquerade
In love's twisted labyrinth, shadows conspire,
A false Cupid, cloaked in dark attire.
With whispers sweet and arrows of black,
He ensnares hearts, never looking back.
Beneath his mask of angelic guise,
Lurks a soul consumed by cunning lies.
His words, like daggers, cut deep and cold,
Leaving wounds that never grow old.
He weaves a web of manipulation's art,
Playing with emotions, tearing souls apart.
Each vow of love, a twisted refrain,
Leading lovers to sorrow, to endless pain.
His arrows pierce, not with love's sweet kiss,
But with venomous poison, leaving hearts amiss.
He twists and turns, with deceitful grace,
Leaving behind a bitter, empty space.
Beware the Cupid with wings of night,
For his love is but a poisonous blight.
In his embrace, there's only despair,
A haunting echo of a love unfair.
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And to this day, I credit my best poems to you.
-Sincerely, I have to live this life without you.
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Kiedy nie ma cię w pobliżu,
Zapominam jak się oddycha
To dziwne uczucie jakbym się dusiła.
Ale kiedy jesteś obok,
Wcale nie jest lepiej.
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July 30: Happy Birthday Seishirō Tsugumi (Nisekoi: False Love)!!!!
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Leary
You seek to harm me,
knock the color off my wings,
I am too leary,
I know your kind pretending
love is the poison offered.
.
D W Eldred
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White there's nothing but white even if you close your eyes you can still barely see a faint white color the smell of blood is so overwhelming that it's engraved into your senses, that fresh vibrant yet dark red against a pure white background, you are almost hyper aware of every little noise that enters this room so desperate for any interaction that you'll practically cling to anyone who talks to you which isn't often but you are happy with anything that the good doctor will give you, you never complain too much you're too weak to complain you know damn well what happens if you start complaining you'll have a new scar by day's end if you're not already at his feet crying it's nice however you don't to worry about much but it's hard to eat what's given to you however not like you have much room in your stomach anyways, but it's nice as long as you keep quiet and do what you're told sometimes the doctor will sometimes stick a small needle filled with some kind of relaxant it makes you feel like you're floating, nothing feels bad during these little sessions everything is just soft and muffled you can barely move your head and your body for that fact you feel so heavy and soft almost unable to keep your eyes open it feels amazing. Other time when you're coming down from the drugs everything feels cold and sharp like steel knives pressed into your throat it's hurts everything hurts so bad, that's when you start crying it hurts to move to breathe to look around and you hate it your body is wobbly when you try the door only to find it's locked you find yourself hiding the door once only for your hands to bleed? But you only hit it once? The lower half of the door is covered in blood like a painting, you don't like the smell. You pass in and out of reality coming to then going off again an endless cycle of pleasure and pain there's time where you'll hear the doctor speak his voice is higher pitched for a man but sometimes it gets real low and demanding you can't place his accent but you assume he's from up north. You won't see the doctor for what feels like days but it's probably only a couple hours. How do you know he's a doctor? You aren't quite sure of how you know that he's a doctor maybe it's the bright red gloves? Or his small glasses? Maybe it could be his neat hair? What about the tired bags under his eyes? But maybe, just maybe it's that smile, it seems so reassuring and comforting to someone else. You don't like his smile you know it's false, his saccharine tone of voice through his thick accent is even worse it makes you sick for some reason, why is that? Nevermind you won't remember... Occasionally there's another man a shorter guy he has a distinctive Texan accent, he usually brings you food when the doctor can't and it's actually good! It's not like the white rice and water you usually get it's real food! And it's always different each times he visits, what was his name again? you could've sworn he'd told you, something with a 'D' yeah... dick? No... shit what was it? Damien? No that's not right either... fuck it you'll remember later... sometimes the light in your room will go out due to it always running, one time it shattered and you got glass in your hands and knees, the doctor wasn't happy about that but you got spend some time in the infirmary? Is that what it's called? Whatever you were blindfolded the entire time though and still ate white rice but you got to sleep in a bed! With blankets! And a pillow! It was the best sleep ever. After what felt like forever you had been able to go back to your room which you held slight protest to but it was shut down fast when a harsh rubber glove and the back of the doctor's hand met your cheek, immediately shutting down your whining. You wanna go back to bed you wonder when you'll see that nice man again... you like him... dell... yeah that's his name. What a nice name... Dell
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It was in high school that I first feel the kind of love that is unconditional, even if we did not end up as lovers, I find it quite interesting and the truth that I become a poet after that failed connection is always something that I owe to that someone. After that, I did not care much about love or seeking a potential. I indulged myself on knowing who I really am and it took me years to finally open myself again to love and to take risks. But Cupid is playing games with me and probably I am a laughing stock to Cupid’s face until now. When it comes to love, I am a certain person-if i said “I love you”, believe it , for I am in my most sane and authentic self on my declaration. I do not fear revealing my love towards someone, it is always something that I am brave enough to face. Sadly, it goes down to me loving alone. Unrequited love is painful but what makes it even more disheartening is when I gamble all of myself towards a someone and it end up to betrayal. Betrayal comes in many faces, it could be lies, manipulation and false love. Such a misfortune, for I encounter all the faces of betrayal including its venom. They made me believed on their build up affection, they made me hopeful and pushed me take risk only to find out that they’re just confused and do not possess the same figurative as I am. Meanwhile I already surrender my walls and in total doom. They used my real love to manipulate my reality and I who is a fool danced on their palm. What I abhor the most is that I will only find this out when I am already at their hook. It caused me so much torment and questioned myself. I feel unlovable, unworthy and insecure. How come that it was me who end up hurting the most when all I did is to give love honestly?It's sad that it keeps on happening on me, it's continous like some sort of damnation and I do not understand why Cupid is cruel to me?
There are moments that I think love is not for me. Maybe I only exist to amuse someone for a moment then if they find another who is above me , they will leave as if I did not become their aid, they forget me as if they did not told me sentences, as they did not made me feel heartening, as if they did not lie-I am just a moment, an entertainment, a waste of time. Maybe I am just too old fashioned, idiot and not worth the risk.
As someone who is a favorite humor of cupid, I am curious how does it feel to have a lover who is true to their words? Someone that will take risk for me too ,someone that will resonate my affection with justice and equality-someone that will touch my heart and comfort my soul, with assurance, respect and will stand up for me too.
Well, I have to keep my hopes high, one day, one day, when cupid will be tired of throwing rocks at me, I will eventually come across to a love that I deserve.
But what I fear is that how many heartaches and betryal must face before I finally have the love that I desire?
I'm exhausted to be honest.
-excerpt from the risk that hurt the most: how betrayal tormented true love
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nice dichotomy, idiot. what lies outside it????
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[Limerence/@4irmii-08 remix.] Base images by me, edits by 4irmii
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chitoge 2023 ❤️
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I could write a million songs of a million lovers, but they’d all end with your symphony.
-Sincerely, it’s been 4 years.
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