I am under pressure of rigid beliefs and expectations of mine & others.
I am harsh to myself.
I am not taking caring of myself nicely. If I took a decision to make me happy next moment I feel scared of taking this decision.
I am ignoring all my basic needs daily from many year but not able to understand reason behind it.
My life is not my first priority but someone opinion,judgements,impression,success, decision and continuous struggle for perfection is my priority.
I always think too much.I never felt relaxed and light.
These are actually my inner voices that have became scary now after such a long period of ignorance.
Actually I do not have courage to accept my weaknesses.
So I have choosen suffering,let’s see how long I will go with it.
I never really understood what it meant to have one’s heart ripped apart, to be broken, saying ‘into pieces’ made it sound oh so exaggerated. How could emotional pain feel so physical.
Is it love’s fault?
i get so much serotonin from going out to swing in the cold while wearing shorts, a tshirt, and a hoodie while i listen to my music far too loudly through my earbuds. its quite calming.
Mom- Perfect Role Model
She turns 52 year old, yesterday I have realized it. First time in her life, I wished my mother happy birthday.
I belong to such type of society where nobody celebrate women birth,her identity is not respected at all,even girls do not have the right to have individualism. Husband & childrens should be womens only goal of life.
But my mother give me chances,oppeortunities & protections to have life of my choice.
Being 5th pass she is emotionally stable,bold,calm,introvert, peace loving,caring,empowered and intellectual women. Nobody is like her,she is unique.
So many time I need her to solve my life complicated problem. She taught me how to face life and treat people with respect no matter how much I gain in my life.
She made me skilled,educated,confident wise,bold,and most important a good person.
She is wonderful women.I am feeling proud of having her and guilty of not understanding, respecting & loving her so many times in my life.
I simply like to be alone.
Dear God, if I have no future with him can you please let me stop thinking about him?
“She’s a black angel, fallen from grace.. she tastes like candy and she makes love like she hates.”
Fallen from heaven into my bed, heavenly she makes a place in my head, hell being a place that she dares to tread, immortal from death, black wings covered with blood.. red - eUë
Home is where the heart is
What if my heart isn’t in the physical realm
It beats between the pages and lines of my favourite books
It lives in grand castles with stone floors and glass chandeliers
Life is too hard for my heart to have a home here
So for now it lives in my favourite stories
What I realized when Covid19 started:
they got your last years.
the person in the end.
locked in my memory.
Ten years ago.
Ten years ago
I grieved you
when you walked away.
Now at your gravesite,
over the you I never met, while
I cry over ten years ago
The inactive status of an emotional detachment is a crippling fear that isn’t passive. I hate the feeling. I couldn’t imagine going through this life acting like I didn’t care. Crashing. It’s hard concealing. I’m interwoven with heartstrings in every thread and fiber of my being like the cliche of wearing my heart on my sleeve. It’s long lasting. When I feel something or experience it, I’m sure most of everyone notices it because I’m such an open book I want to slam close the cover. Not being recognized or trying to over socialize to cover up a spiritual demise. That’s ego. And others. Her names Ana. She’s a stranger and a friend. Many avenues to getting lost again. Pathways and alternative courses. They’re not sorted out. Neurons firing with such forces. Can I please find a different route. I’m bandaging all my sores with vinegar soaked gauze its morbid. I think I’m in war with a prisoner of my own thoughts they’re forged with iron bars I’m lock in tortured. Feeling as if I can’t forward a cause or if I did its mortared. Not just laying my eyes on but kissing Medusa!
It takes a lot longer for some to forgive and heal. If mines instant does that make me a loser cause I love my abuser? Could it be that the mental fog of a stigma caused by ones actions could turn it off, the love? I feel it more now than I ever did. Joy felt like forever ago when I was a kid. Yet I cause trauma and do damage and make it hard for others to manage why do I do that since I was a kid? I haven’t figured it out yet. I hope I can get a flip reset. Maybe, I try so hard to off the old thinking like an introspective suicide of an ego that’s like Wolverine it never dies. How do I tame this self will run riot? The hardest battle I’ve ever had to fight and, you would think that if I could stop doing drugs and stop drinking stuff to get me out of self, I could figure it out on how to do things more conducive to loving myself, like I love others. Sometimes it doesn’t show because a misery martyr mentality flows and no matter what someone says I take it offensive and that is defensive to causing retention in situations that I could be submissive. It’s a faulty instinct, I have to retrain my brain for positive affirmations. It is a determination. For relational regeneration.
First Draft: 02/26/2021 — 00:11 EST
Final Draft: N/A
“In the Orchard of Opportunity”
I so tire of waiting to conclude
That each moment I intend to grasp,
Consume in effervescent energy,
Is in a perfect state of ripeness
Before plucking it from its vine.
It occurs to me that there is no shame
In aging opportunities on some shelf
After they’ve been collected prematurely
Or fermenting them into fine spirits
When picked a bit past due.
I am growing old,
The moments are as well,
And I have aged coldly from planting things
Which freeze first at their roots.
Help. I’ve fallen in love again
And I’m new to this
I’ve loved before, like everyone else.
I love mornings and my sister,
and my cat and my mom.
Help. Everything she does is beautiful.
I want to feel her skin so gently.
I feel like I could run miles and,
Then hang upside down until,
All the blood rushes to my eyes,
And I cry.
She’s so lovely and here I am,
Unnoticed by brown eyes.
Let’s hope I made this all up so
That my stomach doesn’t have to
Face any more of this. Seeing
Her every day, is torture.
call me a masochist because I’d pay to make
You are tapestry
I want to weave
Have already collided
In this world
and lifetimes past
In every universe
I find a way to
with each ascension