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#spilled guts
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"As I drive home, amidst a blur of passing lights and a flurry of chaotic thoughts, there's solace in the serene thought of you, guiding me to the tranquility at the journey's end."
— My head past midnight
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vomitingwords · 9 days
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"I don't want to think about it now," one of my closest friends once told me. "I'll think about what I can do once I'm already in that situation," she even added.
Before we got into this conversation, I was ranting about my life. And why are things not happening the way I want them to? As if the universe is against what I want. These past few months have quite stressed me out, and I don't have anyone to tell these things to. Because, honestly, I never wanted to bother anyone. I am just a typical person who keeps things to herself. Especially if it's too personal for me to share.
Earlier, while I was traveling to work, this conversation struck me once again. And I just remembered that I also said that before to someone I know. I used to think that way. I used to tell other people the same phrase every time they asked me what I would do if I were in a certain situation. And you see, I used to not overthink too much. Yes, I am an overthinker, but not to the point that I am experiencing now. I just thought that my overthinking got the best of me. I'm on the verge of quitting everything that I'm passionate about. In short, I was so close to giving up and stopping everything that makes my heart feel alive. I haven't felt so genuine in a while, as if everything I wrote was nothing but mere words that have no meaning at all. Something I don't really feel like writing about. I stopped having a long conversation with anyone. I stopped listening to what they really had to say. And just think, think, and think until it's time for me to go to sleep.
But then I remembered who I was before. I remembered that girl who doesn't easily give up on things just because she's stressed out. I remembered that girl who loved to lift people up with her words. I remembered someone who would not let anyone stop her from achieving what she wanted. I remembered who I was. I remembered myself saying, "Let's see what I will do if I'm in that situation." Even if I am not sure what I can exactly do when that moment comes, even if I'm not sure if I'm still alive to witness that, I remembered how hopeful I was. And I remembered how much faith I have that things will always work out. And even if they don't, it just means that it wasn't meant for me at all.
I just want to tell you that sometimes you have to remind yourself of the old you—the you who have lived and survived in the past—just to get you where you are right now. And remember that if you don't like where you are right now, you still have a chance to do something that might change where you're going. It might be a tough road to walk on. But the most important thing is that you've done something. You've never abandoned yourself and just given up on what you really want to do.
Hello, I'm just dropping by // ma.c.a
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nullphysics · 1 year
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Some new and old sad drippy draws
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lost-in-time-marie · 3 months
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I’m an old soul stuck in a modern world.
~K.
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skyexrose · 5 months
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I would rather adjust my life to your absence, than adjust my boundaries to accommodate your disrespect. 🤌🏻
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rineedagger · 2 months
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And I disappeared in a futile attempt to stop feeling, yet I feel I still feel I feel more than ever -- more real, more healed, more me. I can feel the bottom of the ocean down my feet but I'm not drowning nor dancing to the tide's waves. And yes, there is sorrow and fear they will always be here they are part of these flesh this being. But I am not defined not cleared. I am not made for the simplest of mind and ideas -- because I am the wolf and the deer.
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sleepy-roo · 4 days
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.:Blood Blood Blood:.
Bloody Daniels I did for goretober.
Reupload from Insta. Originally posted Oct. 21, 2020.
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Limits
Some days I wish to be one of my paintings
Fluid colors trapped in beautiful liminal space
And all they are is my mind poured onto canvas
My heart beating through the brush
The world being to much it bubbles up and overflows into the messy pages of my sketchbook
My pain turned to watercolor bleeding through the pages
Entire notebooks filled to the brim with pen scratched heartache
And endless renderings of your perfect face
Some days I wish I could wash away
I could drown in my paint cup and be whisked down the drain
Or maybe sat on the counter left to slowly evaporate until the sadness breaks
I wish to be in long forgotten sketch pads
Laden with long forgotten teenage dreams
I can jump through hope for the future
That leaves me longing for the past
I wish to be art
Trapped beneath always clean glass
Or maybe in a Bansky watching the world slowly pass
And I’ll be labeled graffiti and painted over
But come back again in a crayon drawing on someone’s mothers fridge
I wish to be limitless
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wordslaver · 4 months
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"it was not what i wanted" puff.
His face's but white smoke, more like a ghost than a person. Where used to be screams are now pin-pricking stillness poking against space between us.
Sweet, sweet, darling.. How I'd miss the gentle nudge of your cheek against my palm, your soft lopsided smile, fragile ribcages crisscrossing mine, isn't that holy? The way you spoke my name so right I shattered.
How I'd still dream of nights and tears and tears and crimson and your rough palm against my cheek, your cold pressed lips, livid ribcages lodging into my own, my blood– yours?
Isn't that holy? The way we've always hugged the knives stabbing into us.
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“i’ve got a garden of watermelons growing in the pit of my stomach
from swallowing too many of your black seeds
growing and churning
an undeniable force
i think i’m forgetting how to please”
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Sometimes I feel like, every bitter woman was once a girl who gave more love than she should've to the people around her...
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wittymumbledon · 1 month
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drew these guys bout a month ago on a road trip, inspired by some stickers that I borrowed from my sister. felt like y'all would like them.
CW//body horror, gore, potentially disturbing
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according to a friend their names are giblet (teal), bimble (blue), snarf 2 (orange) and anthony (fuschia)
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lost-in-time-marie · 6 days
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The Well Is Dry Today, Come Back Another Time
Writing is like some permanent faucet tapped into my soul. It has to come out, if that knob goes untouched, it will burst onwards anyway, spurting uncontrollably and making a mess of me. If you ignore it, don’t attend to it immediately, the swells of water will drown you. And I find, when I leave that faucet running too long, wasting it away on chores and responsibilities, too many dishes and washing all the clothes by hand, the well runs dry. I find myself here, spinning that fixture silly, trying to trigger some recognition, some familiarity, like I’ve lived in this house 26 years and poured over this tap every day. But I’m standing over the sink at a strangers house, and I don’t get so much as a trickle, not even a drop. The pipes rattle and hiss inside the walls and, today, I have no charms, and nothing comes out with all my coaxing.
~K.
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skyexrose · 27 days
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Sometimes it's hard for me to communicate how I feel because I don't always understand why I feel the way I feel. I need someone who is patient enough to understand my silence. Sometimes I really don't want to vent, I just want someone to be there for me so I don't feel alone.
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rineedagger · 13 days
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I have yelled, wept, begged, bended and bled. Nevermore, only the dead deserves that level of ache.
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namthighs · 6 months
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Love of my life
We meet once again
If we were not meant to be
Why do our paths still cross
When we try our best to diverge
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