#overthinkingamericanteenager
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My God is a Sadist
He is dying.
I am dying
Not physically
My soul
Perishing alongside him
It reminds me
Of three years ago
When my best friend died
I sat alone on my living room floor
And sobbed
And sobbed
And sobbed
Until my lungs gave out
And my voice went hoarse
I cursed God
I cursed his Angels
I cursed his actions
His lack of actions
I wanted to leave this Earth months ago
But I stayed
I stayed because he said it was a sin
And now he is punishing me
God is a sadist
Yet I still worship
Just in case
They were right
And we will all meet again in Heaven
In that case
My love
I will see you again.
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Atom Bomb
30 minutes. Thirty. Ten minutes, three times. 1,800 seconds. That was all that we had left, he had left, I had left. Life and death are morbid, it’s a given, but knowing exactly when you are going to die? That is what true, disturbing, morbidness stems from.
Chris keeps pacing. His boots make a dull thump against the steel floor. He keeps trying to think of a way to save us, save me. Like a true gentleman, I roll my eyes at the thought. I admire the fact that he is resilient in not giving in, holding onto the last strand of hope that we have, even if it only exists in his imagination. He stops pacing and walks to his computer, types away at the keys, and waits a few moments until his head dips in disappointment. I keep my composure calm. For him, I tell myself. But watching him is agony. The thought that he will be dead in twenty-eight minutes… I can’t bear the thought of it.
I break his pacing silence with my voice, beckoning him towards me. I sit with my back against the wall of windows, looking in on the cold metal room. The sight is bleak and depressing, but I don’t want to see it when it happens, I don’t want to have to anticipate the timing of something I would be able to see.
I hold out my hand as if to say to him come to me, love. His head drops in defeat and I see a single tear run down his face. I start to cry, silently but steadily. He takes my hand, but instead of sitting down next to me, he pulls me off the ground and into his arms. His embrace engulfs me, and I realize that this is him saying goodbye to me, the feel of me, the smell of my perfume, the weight of my arms around his shoulders, the lightness of my hair against his cheek as his face pushes into my neck. His tears wet my skin as he starts to sob. I dig my fingers into his back, scared that if I let go, I might never get to hold him again. I pull away slightly but still hold onto him as I lead him towards the ground.
We sit, backs against the window in each other’s embrace. A tangle of limbs, tired and exhausted from days of no sleep. We tried to stop it. That’s what I tell myself as I run my fingers through Chris’s hair. But we failed. And now us and the rest of our people will be dead in less than twenty minutes. That’s when the bombs will drop. Only that we know when its supposed to happen, the rest of our people don’t.
Fifteen
Ten
Six
Five
Four
Three
Two
The noise is what I heard first, I push myself closer to Chris as he kisses the top of my head, his arms tightening around me. Then the heat and staleness of the air.
“I love-
The End
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There’s this grief low in my belly, and I don’t know where it’s coming from. I’m being hit from all different directions and losing pieces of myself in the process. Am I mourning my losses or the loss of myself?
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I’ve never felt more out of control in my entire life. My dad is in the hospital, my job is on the line, I’m stuck spending time with the person I hate most in this world, and my life as I know it is crumbling around me. How do I fix this? Is this even fixable? I’m surrounded my people but feel so alone. I just want my dad back.
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Part 2
I look down the silver chain around my neck, Aven's black ring dangles down the valley of my breasts. "One with my heart," He would say as he kissed me with a passion so fierce, it'd make the darkest monsters cower in fear.
I settle my gaze on the path in front of me, letting the warm memories of my mate drift to the back of my mind, making a note to come back to them later. With every step I take the grass and trees in my path whither and die. I will restore them later, but for now, a message is needed. Hell has come.
#teen#overthinkingamericanteenager#teenager#books#romance#wattpad#teen writer#american#oneshot#fae aesthetic#sexy#powerful
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They Were Supposed to be Non-Addictive
I almost had a breakdown after I couldn’t find a bottle of muscle relaxers. I’m only seventeen, I’m a member of the National Honor Society and varsity swimmer. I’ve been accepted to all of the colleges I applied to and was offered generous financial aid for each acceptance. It’s not supposed to happen to me. They were supposed to be non-addictive, a safe alternative for a shoulder injury after my struggles with oxycodone after a surgery I had last year for a sports-related injury.
I’m supposed to be better, to not fall down the dark holes that they warn us about since the drug and alcohol classes they give us in the sixth grade. I’m not supposed to be like my mother, we are different. I made sure that we are different, but it seems that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.
I couldn’t find the bottle, I guess I used all of them up. They helped me sleep, even though they were just supposed to stop a muscle spasm in my shoulder. I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, scared that some unknown force that no one else could see was trying to kill me. They took away my nightmares, my anxiety, my fear of being alone. They made me a ghost of myself, but for the first time in a while, I wasn’t haunted.
They always talk about addiction like it is horrible in all ways. Don’t get me wrong, it is, I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and heard it within my own thoughts. But, they always leave out the reason why people use in those powerpoints they show us in health class or the school assembly where the parent of a late heroin addict comes to talk to us. It numbs me to the void that is my mind. My mind, that should be perfectly healthy, but isn’t. When I was using the pills, the constant screaming in my head stopped. I was calm, I wasn’t frantic or agitated, I was normal for all intents and purposes.
And now, for the question that I face every day of my life. Why stop? The pills I was using didn’t hurt me, they didn’t poison my body, they weren’t illegal, hell, they were prescribed by my doctor. Three times. It wasn’t until I had to stop using them, that I noticed my dependence. Eight o’clock rolled around, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe or think right. I wanted them, but I didn’t need them for their purpose anymore, my shoulder was healed. It’s been months since I stopped, though one was taken occasionally after an all-nighter or particularly nasty anxiety attack. But I’m all out now. The prescription is done. No more pills for me.
I feel like crying again. They were supposed to be non-addictive, but here I am, writing about how much I want one of those tiny, orange pills.
#teenager#high school#nhs#addiction#teenadiction#non-addictive#lies#truth#studentathlete#senior#seventeen#OverthinkingAmericanTeenager#teen#teen writer
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Grief is No Real Thing
Dark screams echo in the void of my mind.
Demons claw at the empty cavern of my chest.
The Dead grab my ankles as I walk; they tempt me.
The Ghosts of agony clutch at my throat
And the Whispers of misery force their way into my ears
And the internal Hell, burning its way through my body, brings choked tears to my eyes.
My screams are silenced behind a stoic face, as I stand above, staring down.
I curse the Heavens, but it seems that only the Devil can hear me now.
My own special, silent, torture.
They lied. Grief is no real thing.
You only feel the pain of the dead, as you die slowly from the inside out.
#grief#sorrow#loss#pain#teenager#teen writer#agony#silence#dark academia#OverthinkingAmericanTeenager
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I just remembered him. I felt his death all over again. And I, myself want to wallow in agony, losing myself in the depths of hell all over again.
#teen#covid2020#overthinkingamericanteenager#quarentine#teenager#poetry#death#grief#hell#pain#neverending agony
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Lightnin' Bug
The lightnin' bug gave borrowed life to the dim and dying street lamp.
While children rode underneath, cloaked by a smoke filled sky.
The world ends.
The city burns.
The hospital bustles.
The lightnin' bug dims.
The broken lamp now dead with no one to mend it.
Its been forgotten in an age of chaos.
I wept at the death outside my doorstep.
Another source of light left to die with only one to mourn.
the agony.
#teen#overthinkingamericanteenager#covid2020#quarentine#poetry#teenager#pencil#sketchbook#young adult#animals#artwork#artists on tumblr#art#poem#poets on tumblr#poetic#poetsandwriters#poetscommunity#firefly#lightning bug
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Jealousy
Over the past week, I've learned what jealousy was. How it feels creeping its way into your mind, sending raging fire through your veins. Jealousy is new to me, a strong hate for someone that I don't even know is new to me. A livid passion for someone stepping on a claim that they knew was your own creates a new type of annoyance within me. I shouldn't be jealous, there is nothing to be jealous about, but still, it is there. Lurking in the shadows of doubt, planting itself deep within my adolescent mind. The feeling is suffocating, an endless pit of tar holding me down, keeping myself prisoner in something I want to be set free from. You've given me my tar, now give me my feathers. I might be humiliated, but at least it will be over.
#jelous#OverthinkingAmericanTeenager#boyproblems#journaling#jealousy#toxic#prisoner#young adult#high school#teen#teenager#teenage
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quarantine blues? more like purples
I just dyed my hair purple because my school is closed for the next two weeks, and I do not regret my decision at all! Forgive my cliche, but my only regret is that I haven’t done it sooner!
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Teenage Love Affair
I don’t know what’s more pathetic, the fact that I think I’m in love with someone when I’m not sure that I know what love is, or that fact that I think that there is a solid chance that he might hate me. I mean, my whole demeanor changes when I’m around this guy. It’s been two years and I still can’t tell if his affect on me is good or bad. Part of me wants to forget him. Leave his name in the dust and keep walking. I’m pretty sure that anyone in this situation would feel that way. But it seems that whenever I’m ready to forget him, something always seems to hold me back. Just like something seems to hold me back from telling him how I feel, in order to get this whole thing over with. Like puddles or winter break. And it’s so so so pathetic, because I’ll start moving on and it’s like he just pulls me in over and over again. All it seems to take is one late night text, or one simple sentence in the hall, and I’m suddenly on cloud nine. The things I’d do just to have a conversation with him. The secretes I’ve kept because my only friend is crushing hard on him. How could I even think of doing that to her? I tell jokes to make it seem like I don’t care, but every time my friend confides in me, or I hear about him with another girl, it just breaks my heart, over and over again. And why should it even matter to me? It’s not like he is even mine in the first place.
#teenage#love#boy crush#unrequited feelings#unrequited love#pathetic#im in looooove#he doesnt know#OverthinkingAmericanTeenager
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Come take a look at the mind of an Overthinking American Teenager. Don’t worry, This will be fun.
I am a fifteen-year-old lacrosse player who is currently has a crippling foot injury. I played one of the fastest sports on two feet, and I just so happened to injure my foot. The Irony! Okay, well maybe it is only ironic to me because I’ve been paired with this injury for over ten months now, and the doctors just found out what is wrong with me. (It was about damn time if you ask me)
Oooof. But thankfully after multiple tests, imaging, and different tactics to handle excruciating pain, they finally concluded that I have a fucked up ankle bone. I decided to write about this because even though my story only happened because of a small, out of place, piece of bone and can be fixed with a small surgery, my injury broke me. It broke my spirit, it broke my drive, it diminished my will to keep working towards recovery because for so long, there was no recovery in sight for me, just management.
Almost everything for ten months was just trying to live around my injury. There were ideas of full recovery, but that was it…they were just ideas. Instead, it was what stretch or pill or shot could keep me out of pain of the longest amount of time. What tactic could a fifteen-year-old girl use for the rest of her life? I look back now and all of that sounds absolutely ridiculous. Down to the very last dose of 600mg Ibuprofen that was taken three times a day, down to every physical therapy appointment and the special stretches that I had to complete two times a day in order to have any mobility in my foot, down to the endless second opinions and climbing copays that accompanied them.
My injury started out as just a small case of Achilles tendonitis, but then they found out that I had tendonitis in all of my surrounding tendons, then my ligaments, oh and you can’t forget about my good old plantar facias. And we can't forget about the time when they flat out said to me that they did not know what was causing my pain, that was really fun.
But there is another side to having a long term physical injury, and that is the mental injury that comes along with it. I have lost count of how many times I have broken down because of the kind of mindset that I was in for so long. The thought that I would never be able to lace up my cleats, and walk onto that field under the lights ever again tore me apart.
I don’t know the exact reason why I wrote this. Hell, just an hour ago I decided to share my writing with the internet. But, I think that I mostly wanted to start out with this because I know that I have grown as a person in the last ten months. I am still the sailor-mouthed, bat-shit crazy, book-loving person that I was before, but at the same time, I feel like I have matured in ways that no one will know and I am okay with that. Because other people don’t need to know that I can keep pushing my bounds, only I do.
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There were no guards along the roads leading to the compound. This would normally happen because of the low number of guards, but now, it's because they think I'm dead. I have one purpose today. Kill Deverine. Only then can I finally rest in the underworld with my mate. The mate she took from me...
Okay, so this little scene just popped I'm my head, and I'm gonna run with it. I have a few scenes planned out in my head.
#overthinkingamericanteenager#teen#teenager#books#romance#wattpad#teen writer#american#dark academia#acotar#fae aesthetic#oneshot
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The Deity
The Deity of my being does not seep the sweet scent of life, but of fermented grains,
Produced by our modern world.
This Deity does not brush shoulders with the Gods,
But stumbles along blurred and unclear walls.
Welcomeness is an uncommon feeling in her touch.
Cold, brittle hands cause me to cringe away
Whilst my mind screams in agony for its maternal touch.
The Deity of my being does not care for my life. If so, she does not reveal it to me.
Caring more about the tidings of man than her own offspring.
Hooded eyes and a downturned mouth.
Beauty.
Once belonged, is so now gone
And I yearn.
And I pine.
And I beg.
Give me anything!
I pray she end my sufferings,
Even if done so in a lie.
Yet, the Deity has made her choice.
A choice that was not myself.
#teen#covid2020#overthinkingamericanteenager#quarentine#teenager#poetry#action#amreading#mother#maternal#deities#deity worship#neglect
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Hidden Suburbia
Somewhere on a corner suburban street,
Where the tulips regrow every spring
And children play amongst the creek.
Where the sunset spills onto the clouds that rest atop the hospital.
Where the elderly ride their bicycles in the early morning,
And the harmonizing birds nest upon the power lines.
Where everything is not pristine and perfect as it is on the outside.
Where neighborhood friends are abused, and addiction mocks families.
Where gangs slowly integrate young school children.
And drugs make their way into the hallways of our high-schools.
Where the broken are ridiculed with so-called privilege.
And child predators stalk the streets at night, thinking no-one is watching them.
Where minor city monarchies decide what is best for you, but only if you agree with their politics.
Where hidden racism plagues the minds of our youth,
And the screams of our neighbors keeps us up at night when they think no-one can hear them.
Where people's true identities are hidden behind brick walls.
And people question, why would you ever want to leave?
Where I am left to smile like nothing's wrong, damming myself to hell for keeping the dangerously false image of America alive.
And hidden suburbia was shown to the world
#teen#covid2020#overthinkingamericanteenager#quarentine#teenager#poetry#poem#art#artists on tumblr#my art#poets on tumblr#poetic#poetsandwriters#my post#featured#poetscommunity#poeta#short poem#poema
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