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the-stars-collided · 8 hours ago
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All the witches the world scare you over, were just normal women in dark times who wanted to eradicate social inequalities and strived to be as powerful as the men of their age
But they will never tell you that
They will tell you that they were miserable, horrifying, beasty women who wished to suck people's blood out of their systems. The truth is, they were the women who were sucked on by the society's menace instead
All those bitches, witches and snitches were nothing evil. But patriarchy enforces that free women are ugly women, kind women are lonely women, and independent women are creatures you must never think of becoming like
Patriarchy wants you to remember that having your own beliefs, ideologies and lives is a sin for women. However, it's a sin that goes one way only. That it's okay as long as it's a man who's doing evil. Because they are better, wiser, more rational and less emotional than us.
You must not listen to them, you must never. Ignore what they want you to hear because whatever they're saying is nothing but a pretentiously self-effacing way to self sabotage you.
They want you to drown because they think the ocean is all theirs
You must make your own way no matter how many paths you cross over and no matter how burnt your feet get, you must never give up and trust someone else to bring cold water for your wounds
We've been giving up all over history and I'm going to put an end to this. I'm going to make up for those innocent women they killed and raped for something they did right
I'm going to tell them that being a woman is the least shameful and most dangerous thing about me
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a-moonlit-poet · 2 months ago
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US.
I looked into the mirror
and
I didn't see myself.
I saw the person
who has seen a lot more
than I ever did.
I saw the scars;
which others found fake.
I saw all the pain
which others call mistakes.
I traced my fingers over the wounds
that no longer hurt.
The dried up blood
from the deep cuts of bloody words.
I devoured the eyes
which are tired yet beautiful.
I tasted the lips,
which are hiding some unspoken truth.
Yet;
I love her.
I love the person she has become.
I fell in love
With the flaws that make her.
All her imperfections
That slowly builds her up.
She is everything
I ever hoped to be.
And also someone
I could never ever be.
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darkacademia07 · a month ago
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who killed that sweet, happy and pure little girl that lived inside me? why i don’t have memories of her and of those simple days? when i became this sad and this melancholic ? oh, Lord, please bring her back. bring my happiness back.
—𝘈𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘢 (𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧).
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sarahtoninxox · a month ago
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The end of ADHD awareness month is
coming near. So let me tell you what
ADHD has done to me.
It's not just fidgeting.
It's not just trouble focusing.
For me, it's not even hyperactivity.
ADHD makes my brain late.
To everything.
ADHD effects my everyday life.
It has made me depressed.
I have difficulty maintaining relationships.
Because of executive dysfunction, some
days I don't get out of bed.
Chronic unemployment.
I forget to pay bills.
I can't focus. Even with no distractions.
Just can't focus.
Hyperfixations.
Obsessions.
All or nothing thinking. Black and white.
Mood swings of the worst kind.
Unintentionally scaring my loved ones.
Choice paralysis.
I can't make up my mind.
I can't decide.
I'm not confident in any decision I make.
I have poor sense of time.
My emotional regulation is almost absent.
I can’t stick to one task.
always look like I'm not listening.
Even though I'm always listening.
Even though I care what you're saying.
I'm listening. I swear.
I can't focus on anything.
Not even things I'm interested in.
I want to read this book I'm interested in.
I can't get past the first page.
The words make no sense.
I can't understand what they mean.
I forget to eat.
I forget to go to the bathroom.
Sometimes I even forget to sleep.
I'm always tired.
Always. Tired.
It's not just fidgeting. It's not just trouble
focusing.
It's debilitating.
If you can relate, offer yourself some grace.
Medication and therapy can help.
But your brain will always be different.
Because we are wired differently.
It's not all bad. We just have too much
attention.
It's not a deficit. It's too much attention
with no idea where to put it.
Hang in there.
You're not lazy.
You're not a bum.
You're different. Like me. Like many of us.
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whiskedthought · 6 months ago
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You are not your own person , really you are not. You are the laughter of your mother . The anger of your father. You are the warmth of your best friend and the kindness of the last book you read. You are pages of torn history , you are the music you sway to and beauty of stars on a clear night . You are the clouds on a rainy day and you are the clear skies on the sunny day. You are fragments of everything and everyone in your life regardless of where they are now. You are not you own person — but the whole universe.
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drunk-on-writing · a month ago
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today, i am thinking about how one time, my mother picked me up for the last time and neither of us knew it was the last time / how my rainbow hair ties clanged in her hands like newton's balls as she did my hair for the last time / how i can't pinpoint when but one day my best friend called my landline number for the last time / how we shared the headphones of her ipod together for the last time / one day was the last day i rode my bike around this particular block / waited at this particular bus stop / cried over this particular boy / and even though there would be more blocks and bus stops and boys / they aren't the ones i had for the last time and didn't even know it was the last time / i wonder if i would have done anything differently if i knew it was the last time / would i have held my mother a little tighter / or played that song one more time? / i wonder should i have done anything differently if i had known / but i didn't / childhood, growing up, is a series of last times and none of us ever know it at the time
(cc, 2021)
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cryptonature · a month ago
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Vultures are holy creatures.
Tending the dead.
Bowing low.
Bared head.
Whispers to cold flesh,
“Your old name is not your king.
I rename you ‘Everything.’”
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billiejeans-teeth · 3 months ago
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i rewatch movies.
and i reread books.
i keep my playlists in chronological order
incase i ever feel nostalgic.
i saved the perfumes i used in every year of my life,
most of them at least.
i live my life in memories
and i like it here.
so i guess the great tragedy of age is that
there will be some feelings i cannot linger in
that listening to an old band or smelling mangos
will not bring back.
like how the sky looked when i was little
and how beautiful it all was
and how i felt lucky to exist.
like how i used to fall in love
consuming and blushing
i dont think i will ever feel anything as colourfully as i used to.
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a-moonlit-poet · 8 days ago
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Remember Me
"Promise me one thing"
He said while trying to wipe my never-ending pain.
"When I will go away, u won't cry,"
I looked at his fading image;
How can I not?
How can I live
knowing he won't be there anymore?
How can I believe,
his arms will never surround me anymore?
The person who made me feel alive;
Won't be himself alive anymore?
I tried to hold him
But only to lose him more.
"You will remember the memories," he said
"You will remember all the times we laughed.
Remember the times we smiled.
Remember the moments we shared.
So that it would hurt less
When we'd bid a goodbye."
I looked up,
And heard the shatter of a broken heart.
I held him, hoping he might stay.
But he had to leave,
Cause that's what life is meant to be.
He smiled,
Pecking my hair gently.
"I promise,"
Is all I could say
Before his last image vanished as well.
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[Today was the day when my closest friend was supposed to turn 18. But he left a bit too early. Wherever he is, I hope he is doing good and I hope he knows that I kept my promise alive as well. For me, he is forever living in my heart.]
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ska-hg · 2 months ago
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she was the sun, brightly burning and providing warmth inside and out. he was the moon, mysterious and hidden. two opposite forces yet when intertwined, created the most breathtaking experience.
- // d.a
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darkacademia07 · 4 months ago
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each has its own way of escaping reality. some drink, some use drugs, and some write. in the attempt to live in a less tragic world, alcoholics, drug addicts and writers are born.
— 𝘈𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘢 (𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧).
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heartofmuse · 3 months ago
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My soul always approaches yours and I breathe you in the wind that brings the night to me. Your beautiful soul shines in the center of my heart and brings tender thoughts to my mind. Here I am, looking at each star, and voicing your name to each one. I confess to them how much I love you and how the stardust of your soul shines in the depths of your eyes. I tell them about the music that I always hear in your words just as they also hear the Moon's song. I reveal to them how magical your laugh is, like a mischievous comet that fills my sky with sparks. I confess how much I embrace you every day in my thoughts just like the mantle of the night embraces them, and how I keep the stories that you tell me like they keep the memories of the night in the brightness of their burning hearts.
e.v.e.
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asliverofpoetrybysilver · 5 months ago
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Why is heartbreak only about lovers? Why is it not about broken dreams, fading ambition and forgotten epiphanies that refuse to return? Why is it not about feeling nothing, losing yourself and this intense distant feeling you feel from everything and everyone? Why is it not about feeling like a lone rock enduring waves and yet not letting the water soak in? Why is it not about not being happy?
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