“You painted yourself
In shades of grey
Some so dark
They were nearly black
Obscuring every trace
Of light
Refusing to let the warmth
Touch your skin
You kept painting
Until you were covered
Head to toe
In storm clouds
Then blamed everyone else
For the rain”
“You’re all that matters to me, baby.. you’re so damn sexy.. I just want to lay you down and love you right.”
Let me love you down baby - eUë
We are on a 12 day sembreak which started today. Yet, I still felt productive since I did my laundry and finished some overdue school projects.
March 1, 2021 || Day 1 of Zoomester Studyblr Challenge
Hi everyone, my name is Angela. Currently, I’m a junior highschool student in the Philippines. I’m new in the studyblr community and it is my first time to actually take part of this challenge.
I like reading and coffee. I also find joy in writing.
I’m here because I want to express myself more, expand my worldview of things and discover who I am.
I want to make something that I could look back to and be proud of myself after many years and see it from the perspective of the future me.
Karma
Don’t lie to me
Maybe I don’t know
But God knows
God always knows what you did to me
And someday it will turn to you
You are my serotonin.
- forever and always
sometimes, we let our emotions out in an indirect way hoping someone would put in the effort to understand us. but most of the time, no one does.
a recording of
women laughing.
a melody.
the trumpeter
tells us to mix it;
to change it.
a second long.
what can i change
about a second?
its brevity makes
it almost nothing.
should i hammer at it?
should i grind it down more?
or lengthen.
make it span a decade,
or more.
there is menace.
the tinkling snickers
compressed into
violence.
a fugue in d minor.
a harpsichord of
battered anomalies.
i am john cage,
nailing my screws into
pianos.
beating, and pounding, and striking,
and nailing nailing nailing
nailing nailing nailing
nailing the iron into the ebony wood.
i will make something
beautiful.
vividly beautiful.
my destruction will
be a creation in of itself.
if you take the handle of an
axe and replace it, is it
the same axe?
is it the same axe you gripped
before?
if i take the laugh
from the laughter,
what is it then?
i love you
i want
to talk to you
but i have
no new
happy updates
i don’t want
to come to you
with nothing but
my hurt
and the tedium -
oh god,
the tedium
You are neither a battle nor a war I have to win every passing day.
You are my refuge.
You are my home.
(you are everything that makes me want to survive)
…………
Hindi ka isang laban na kailangan kong harapin at ipanalo sa bawat araw.
Ikaw ang kanlungan,
ang nag-iisang tahanan.
(ikaw ang bawat dahilan kung bakit nagsusumikap mabuhay)
-katie, 20:27
Don’t look at me like that
I’m already falling way too fast
Don’t smile at me like that
I’m already way to attached
I left most of myself with her. On the way to the door, as quietly as I could, so I wouldn’t trigger her to come after me. Outside I paused before entering the car. But there were no shadows.
The road was dark and blurred by my tired eyes. As the lines merged together, I drove as fast as I could. I drove in the lines of her body. White lines and darkness. She lied, while I covered her every inch. Minuscule.
The lines of her scars, the spaces between them. My fingers followed the slopes. The limits between myself and our end. Never intertwined, but briefly meeting. 3 am, I drove between memories I tried to escape. Stay with me.
Your eyes have been closed for quite a while,
and you’re well practiced in tuning out the voice that nags you to open them.
But one day, you decide to indulge that voice,
if only out of curiosity for what made your eyes shine so bright back then.
You feel the dusty seal over your eyelids crack as you open them,
and your eyes sting slightly from the oppressively stagnant air.
The room is hardly brighter than the inside of your closed eyes,
save for a dim ray of light that wandered through a crack in the blinds.
A fine dust of guilt has settled atop your workspace,
every surface is cluttered with doubt and uncertainty,
and projects you once doted on reek of neglect.
You wince at the thought of throwing open the blinds to face the piles of work,
and you’re almost tempted to close your eyes once again -
after all, you know the darkness won’t hurt them, and it offers a familiar comfort.
Your curiosity hasn’t yet faded, though, and your eyes have begun to adjust,
so you cast the thought aside.
You survey the room once again,
and your gaze falls upon the faded messages and photographs
of all those who took delight in the very work
that once brought you joy and passion as well.
You wonder how many of them peered in through the window as you stalled,
and you wonder how many left, disgusted at the decay forming around you,
and marvel at how many more arrived for seemingly no reason.
You hope that your attempts at restoration will be enough for those present.
That hope provides you with just enough energy to get off the floor
and forge through the stagnancy of your (lack of) creation.
Your life won’t be bright for quite a while,
but you’ll get practice in tuning out the voice that nags you to give it up.
So one day, you will see that you’ve hushed that voice,
and see that you have rediscovered what makes your eyes shine bright again.
Distress series, 1/7. Read the others here!
I can’t shake the feeling
Of you being close to me again
I know it is nearly impossible
I know I should be delighted with joy
I’m so sorry, that I’m not
I promise
I will love you when you’re older.
“if
the ocean
can calm itself,
so can you.
we
are both
salt water
mixed with
air.”
- Nayyirah Waheed
Immersive
Like the crashing waves printed on her now new favorite shirt that she suddenly fell in love with the moment it crossed her sight
Like the thought of seeing cherry blossoms for the first time
Like seeing your face in a sea of the other ones
Just as she tries to hide how fast her chest pumps whenever you’re around;
and her lips that seals itself - that, that’s how immersive you are.
If she dives, she dives the deepest.
She thought that she is alright
that it can shine again
it sparks again
that with her smiles, she ready for other great journeys
But she just found she is not
it is too scary to shine again
to sparks again
that with her bound, she aint ready for that yet
for another bleeds
another tears
how can i fall in love when im afraid to fall?