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#spilled words

“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”

1 notes

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.

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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

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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.

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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?

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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!

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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.

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Text

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.

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image

— Pierre Alex Jeanty, Jada ,Hawkins, Ashes of Her Love

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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?

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