tearsforthesoul

[tearsforthesoul]

I wanna take you somewhere, but you can’t say it’s wired. It’s the church cathedral. my grandmother used to come here often. I know it’s weird and I do have religious trauma but sitting in here makes me feel like the little boy in home alone. Like I’ve been as chaotic and I possibly could have, I have eaten the world. But I’m sitting here expecting something to happen, maybe hoping maybe looking for something to happen. The miracles my grandma told me about the miracles she got or didn’t get. I’m here for an hour or so. Nothing happened

Nothing happened, the thought bumps around in my head, nothing happened, nothing has happened. What was my grandmother doing then, why was she here, why am I here. What the fuck am I doing here. God, do you know why I’m here. Is this why she came every Sunday and Wednesdays for bible study, say hi to church friends in the food lion, bother momma to come but she had work late, tryna take care of my father. Is this why she cooked and sang the gospel songs from that little book. I miss her, and that Church cathedral.

This was kind of my thoughts I had while on the bus to school. I've been thinking a lot recently and I don’t know why, and I don’t mean in a normal way but I think like I’m writing a book, or an essay maybe, a diary entry or something. Well anyway I haven’t posted in the longest time so here I am and ill be posting here more often. Also I’m at a gym lobby for my friend and a girl just lifted up her shirt and she had abs and was very muscular, and omg had a happy trail it was so hot. But anyway I’m treating this like a diary so I’m gonna go. Also song of the day is well never have sex Leith Ross

Sincerely me

Just because :)

[tearsforthesoul]

4/20/2021

Her lightning strike voice makes cracks in my bedroom mirror every time she visits. I swallow the little shards that can no longer fill the small expansions just so my mother won't get upset about the mess on the floor but now the mess is blood and vomit. Those shards are in me cutting me.i don't want to cut myself open and face the demons that reside within me. Why do I feel so ruined still after two, no, three years so much so that I lose track of the time I have spent empty and hollow. She ruined me just like my father ruined my mother, just like the several men my aunt had babies with, just like both men my other aunt loved, just like my grandfather ruined my grandmother. I am not pardoned from this curse that plagues the woman of my family. Now they are fat and poor and miserable, why do I see myself in them sometimes. All the people I have ever loved are the blueprint to my broken, my absolute bloody mess of a mind body and soul.

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[tearsforthesoul]

I find myself incessantly plagued by the sensation that I am too much for this world to contend with.

Too much in size. My legs are too long, forever pushing against someone’s dashboard. My body takes up too much space, reminding other people that they are lucky to be able to hide away in a way that I cannot. I am forever occupying space I don’t intend to, forever trying to make myself as invisible as I can, but I am too much, and it never works. “Stop slouching,” my mother has always scolded me. “Maybe if you lost some weight, you wouldn’t feel like you needed to hide away from everyone.” She was right, of course, and as everything about me has increased in intensity, so, too, has my innate desire to run and hide, to sequester myself away in a space where I don’t have to be perceived, where I won’t be subjected to others’ cruel judgments.

Too much in emotion. I am terrible at hiding my own pain. My emotions are permanently written across my face, and I am never capable of somehow finding it in me to be the bigger person and shove them away for others’ sake. My mood swings are like the dips and peaks of a rollercoaster, taking the people I care about on a ride they never even stood in line for. I have so much love that I feel like it’s going to burst out of me, and so much sadness that I feel like I’m counting down to the day I simply fall apart.

Too much in trauma. Every day feels like an exhausting battle, a gargantuan effort. I say things or share stories without even realizing they are fucked up, because I am fucked up. I am just now at the point in my life where I am realizing that every relationship is going to be a task, that no interaction will be without work for me because of the scars others have left on me. I will never have the pleasure of having a normal family. I will never have the peaceful calm of answering a phone call from my parents around others without fearing they’ll start hearing shouting on the other end of the line. I will never be able to merely eat without thinking about every bite I take, every morsel I consume, and wondering how others are perceiving it. I will never be able to take the word “beautiful” at face value in reference to myself. I will never not have to fight down the part of myself that is so very, very angry at the people who have hurt me, that just wants to spend her days in a never-ending temper tantrum and wail until her lungs give out.

Too much in potential, potential that I’ve wasted with every rejected application, every turned-down opportunity, every lost connection. I will never achieve the heights that my parents dreamed of for me. I will never see success like my sister. I will probably get a job, and I won’t discount the inherent luckiness in that, but I am not going to do anything special. Much as I want to, much as I dream of it, I am not going to change the world. Many days, it feels like I only exist to be laughed at, screamed at, mocked, belittled, beaten. What impact can a person like that truly make?

I am too much, and I wonder if the world will ever have the kindness to chip away at me, or if, one day, I will simply explode, the largeness of me cracking away into nothingness.

Too much, and yet also so very little.

[tearsforthesoul]

outside my window

If you look outside you can see my heart catching on every thorn

I’ve been watching it dangle from a sprawling thorn bush with no flowers

The wind ripping it little by little, the rain making it soggy

It thumps and hisses, thrashing sometimes

But the situation is helpless

It’ll never get free

-S

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[tearsforthesoul]

3/31/21

I felt so lonely this morning like I had no mother and all my friends had left. Then she texted me. Why must the only thing I can’t say no to text me while I am in the most melancholy mood? How can she still drain me of all I have to give and still come back? Still, the mouthers milk will never be enough for a greedy baby. why must you always make me the fool, you sick cruel girl? I want to bury you under the ivory pillars of my temple, I don't want to remember you or what I lost what you took away from me. I lost myself to you, I had to go back to my own mirror to swallow the broken shards and rearrange them in my guts, I had to find the painful parts of me to replace the softness you stole. The beauty that still lingers is jaded and bitter and the painful shards of reflection will never dull. I am broken and I don't know how to put myself back together. I don't think I can, I’m not sure if I ever will.

-S

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[tearsforthesoul]

Love Has Happened To Me Again

Oh, I have made another terribly stupid mistake, but I love her so much more than the last. She is infatuating, her laugh is soft and tinder so much so that I almost want to forget who I am just to be her’s. I’m scared I might scare her away, I burn like wildfire that never goes out white hot and loud, maybe she is just another wild animal I have yet to consume. I don't want to burn her I want her to burn with me, I’m selfish like that. She is good, she is brilliant she is understanding. her name is sweet like my morning cup of raspberry peppermint tea, I want her to have some of my raspberry peppermint tea, I want to hear her call it sweet to kiss her lips and taste nothing different. I am not sure this is love this may just be infatuation. She is not eternity or safety nor a God like my past lovers, she is mortal, human, and is not broken so she may not understand. I want to put stardust in her lungs and take her breath away when I read her my poetry. I wish to be praised by her for my simple, for my mere existence, I don't want her to know about the raging chaos beating against my ribs, or the broken shards of my past in my guts, or the vulgar and terrifying thoughts that bump around in my head. I want her to think for my sleepless nights and poetic conversation romantic. I splatter my blood unto these pages and I hope you see me as beautiful. Kiss me and my world would be complete.

-S 4/7/2021

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[tearsforthesoul]

I am Goddess

I am Goddess

I wanted to be a soft child but I am not

I came out of my mother, fists clenched, and covered in my mother's blood

That is my war paint

For too long I wanted to just be honeyed skin and soft curls, but I am not

Forged from stardust and burning umber I rose from the ash and no longer knew mercy

I am Goddess

I am holy

Three years ago I forgot forgiveness

It is of no value to me

I kissed a girl and she had nightmares of cities falling into the sea for weeks she burned and cried at my feet

I had no sympathy for her because love makes us all weak

I kissed her still, so she would remember my burn, the pain that was me

I am boundless and toxic

I wrestled angels, and spit out blood

I walk from revelation to revelation through blue flames

I shatter mountains with my words

they are my weapons.

There are scars on my back, that you do not get to see

You never will

And I am hungry for bloodshed and chaos for death and rebirth.

I am Goddess

I can eat the world raw

I am wildfire

My mortal girl, my starburst girl she is dead.

She died along with my mercy and forgiveness

She was sweet and beautiful

Her voice was beautiful poetry and could make apollo cry.

She was killed.

Now there is only me

And I am Goddess

-S 4/6/2021

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[tearsforthesoul]

Favorite color: mossy green

Last song: moon song by phoebe bridgers (been listening to her a lot lately)

Currently reading: Salt Roads by Nalo Hopkinson

Currently watching: bojack horseman for the 10,000 time also orange is the new black

sweet/spicy/savory: always sweet

Current craving: chocolate rum cake

Tea/coffee: tea in the morning coffee in the evening

:)) I loved this super fun

catch up tag game

thanks for the tag @hoeliterature :-) and @fangirlforever-15 technically 

rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better/catch up with

favorite colour: light blue 

last song: leave her johnny, from my writing playlist about pirates because i was, surprise surprise, writing, about pirates. 

currently reading: a torch against the night by sabaa tahir 

currently watching: grace and frankie. kinda in the middle of trying to decide whether or not to rewatch breaking bad, desperate housewives, dynasty or the walking dead though because i miss those shows. 

sweet/spicy/savory: anything as long as it’s not spicy. 

currently craving: donuts. 

tea/coffee: sorry for saying this, neither 

tagging without pressure @rockinggirl @leydileyla @underwoodinc @edithwrites @ladydeath888 @alias-levi and anyone else who wants to join in 

[tearsforthesoul]

3/30/21

Today I am alone. My friend offered to come over (she always knows when we have been apart for too long and after yesterday and the day before it’s been way too long). I am scared for us, i am scared for us all the time but the laughter helps. The night before I woke up in a cold sweat, I dreamt of my father and my own death (almost like Romeo but less poetic or romantic.) I still don’t love him and the choir is coming to devour me soon, it’s always soon and I’m always running because he’s after me and it will be just like before. Before Goddess was me, Starburst Girl was there and she was hurt and killed. Lately, these dreams have been slowly consuming my mind, my insomnia is back again and he doesn’t seem like he wants to leave so I have become a good host and a conversationalist. Small talk is dull and the night stretches on forever but I will admit his company is nice. He has seen me at my worst and I have been crying like a tall child, very small or simple thing throw me into a fit of tears, but I know it’s just shards of broken past under my skin. I find myself crying and crying till I can’t anymore, then going months with no tears and no rain and I am empty. 

When I refer to Goddess: they are a phase of life that I am in and I have named it Goddess. She was born like a phoenix from the bloody remains of Starburst Girl  

When I refer to Starburst Girl: she is the personification of my broken, tainted past and childhood. She was young and now she is dead  

-S

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[tearsforthesoul]

Where I was

 I grew up in Vergina in suburbia as an only child in a broken home. My father was an arrogant, manipulative alcoholic, my mother worked so hard to pay the mortgage and bills. I loved my father, he was abusive and negligent most times, and I loved him because I didn’t know any better. He was the type of man to beat you for no reason, a man who would get drunk and yell at you for an hour because he felt like it. In 2016 police officers escorted my father out of the house and he never came back. You know how the story goes “black child starts to act out at school because she doesn’t have a dad”, a couple of referrals later and the school mandate that I needed to go to therapy or I’d be expelled. I couldn’t tell you what I learned from “school administrated therapy” but there was a cupel of words that stuck, “what he did to you was not okay”. I realized what my father did was not out of love but out of anger. He didn’t love me and he never will.

   Okay, that last part is not entirely true but that’s what it felt like. It felt like my father abandoned me like he never cared. I especially felt like all the things I thought about him was another lie, and it’s true, I put my father on a pedestal because it was easier to think of him as the best person in the world than the worst. Most people expected me to be mad so I used anger to cover up how much I missed him. I had always been terrified of him yet I wanted to go back to the time when it was normal because at least I had a dad right? you could say I developed some very unhealthy habits at a young age. I thought love was only for the deserving, that the reason he did not “love” me was because I was a bad child. I justified the abuse and manipulation, “forgave” him, and started to tell myself that it was not his fault but mine, still keeping up the “angry at my father” bit. All these emotions along with being diagnosed with depression and anxiety, it was too much to handle so I dropped it, told my mother that I didn’t need therapy anymore, and pretended everything was “okay”, and it worked. Not until recently, I addressed these emotions and toxic behavior.

   For a long time, I refused to accept that I was mentally ill, refused to acknowledge or even process emotions I didn’t understand, and became closed off. I built walls so high that I couldn’t even see over them and frankly, I didn’t want to. I set rules for myself, never had close friendships, kept people at arm’s length, never opened up, became manipulative, didn’t show real emotion, just to avoid getting hurt again. Sometimes things happen that you can’t control, sometimes you get hurt by the people you love, it’s a simple concept that I’m still learning. It was hard for me to realize what he did to me was wrong and that it’s okay to miss him. I’m still learning what a healthy parental relationship with a father looks like, accepting that will never have that, and accepting the fact that that’s okay. This doesn’t mean my walls have come down, not yet, it just means that I’m taking it one day at a time and trying to be better as best as I can.   

-S

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[tearsforthesoul]

I Am

 These angels are the peak idea of opportunistic affection, the angels cast from heaven along with Lucifer, willing to speak intimacy from anyone regardless of outward appearance. They are allowed to be as monogamous to as polyamorous as they pleas. They never had a mother and their father turned his back on them eons ago. They are not soft anymore nor pleasant to look at, they are broken. But they are still full of love and warmth but this time the warmth is anger and the love is only for those who understand their loss of divinity and wings. They are no longer full of lavender and golden space matter but of earth, moss, and decaying leaves. Their skin is poison, and their lips still bloody from the fight. They sing with broken voices songs so terribly painful. It is these angels alone apart from any divine being who truly understand love and loss anger and emptiness. On countless occasions, I feel as if I am one of these angels.        

   Chaos and beauty exist in me only because I decide to keep existing, existing in me, not like yen and yang but as two separate wholes who could exist separately but simply chose not to. To me chaos is not interesting without beauty and beauty is not interesting without chaos. I think my chaos is poetry and my beauty is my art, sometimes spilling into each other but always having a definitive purpose to me and absolute meaning. Through art, I express ideas that intertwin with the world around me. My art usually has a specific meaning and feeling attached to it, never complex because the complexity lays within the piece itself. Through poetry, I express specific emotions or the lack of. Nothing I make is up for interpretation, there is always meaning there is always a reason. The beauty I express and the chaos I create and what it all means to me.

    Chaos. Sometimes I write in fits of tears, writing anything and everything that comes to mind no matter how gross or vulgar. My poetry is not chaos but the expression of it, the expression of intense or painful feelings. It might be one feeling, maybe several, most of the time it’s not explicitly stated or maybe it is. My poetry is unpredictable and has no rules or boundaries, it’s intense and threatening. Presenting the deepest parts of me for all to see. Beauty. My art is ideas, worlds I wish existed, alter egos, and depictions of life in peculiar ways. Art is how I process the world happening around me, it’s looking through my eyes, walking in my shoes, thinking the way I do. Co-existence. Poetry and art are natural extensions of myself, and I am chaos and beauty.  

-S

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