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walking-metaphor · 18 hours
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HAPPY PRIDE!!! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜
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walking-metaphor · 1 day
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Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects
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walking-metaphor · 6 days
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walking-metaphor · 11 months
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Jane O. Wayne // Kate Jacobs
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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It was on the edges of a sword
where we danced without music
high on nicotine and low on gas
in this mundane, lifeless world
the inferno inside our eyes connects
and we both savor the flames it speaks
I surrender myself to you
and we come across metamorphosis
I kneel before you yet I abhor your yesterday
I declared affection yet I do not understand your metaphors
I served my soul raw below your mouth yet I do not feel secured
it was your shadow whom I can’t love
your twin that lurks between us
the stories you told me pierced my heart
and I do not love you enough
to embrace the remnants of your past
you made me feel beyond what a dead mortal must feel
you exist within the gaps of my loneliness
and our bones become one
all the exchanges of fingers and tongue
including the burns, we buried on our skin
the inclination during rainy days
our whispers on closet
and how I bleed out my innocence
all of those are great
yet all that we did is not what love is
I was in complete awe of how lovely you can be
but I view behind with disdain
I don’t love you
for I desire you to worship me
for I desire you to murder a memory
I don’t love you
for I fear you will crawl back toward the time
and leave me after your gain
I know you do not love me too
I am only a convenience
your wine on depressing days
and you’re as guilty as I am
but I do not love you enough
to imprison myself on you
//to the one I didn't love
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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lullabies for the woeful, and the words that seem to follow
Sometimes I wonder about dying.
I am not a particularly sad person. I have people who love me. I have people who will be willing to give half their all just to pour into my dripping glass. In simple terms, I am not alone. But sometimes, I am lonely, and being lonely makes you wonder about things you would never think about on the regular. Like dying. 
I’m not exactly afraid to die. Every organism dies at one point. It’s an undisputable fact that governs the living. To me, dying is a certain type of peace. Religion divides the world with the concept of an afterlife. But for the physical, carbon-based structure of a man, lying 6-feet down deep without any worry of the world is peace. Still, I do not long for it, at least not yet. 
Someone asked me before what I feared most, if not death. I didn’t have a direct answer. For most of my life, everything that triggered my adrenaline, I got through. Should I still consider that a fear? I didn’t think so. Is fear of God counted? That’s debatable. However, as more people asked, I began to worry for an answer. What did I fear most? It wasn’t anything too shocking, I found out. I feared being lonely. I thought it was autophobia—the fear of being alone—but for most of my life, I never was. Yet I still feared. I discovered I could get lonely, easily, despite company. Even God forgives, loneliness does not. The thought made me anxious. 
Having fear gives you two options: you fight it head on, or you get away. In this case though, the former is the sole answer. And after fighting each outburst head on, you learn to hit back. You learn how to maneuver each swing, how to analyze the fear and set aside your emotion. Fear then materializes into an existing, rational enemy—and you learn to win. But every win comes at a cost. Each time you encounter your fear, it takes something from you. Every drip of happiness you kept in a bottle spills. You win the battle, but the longer it gets to overcome the multiple bouts in the ring, your fists become exhausted, until your limbs eventually also leave you with no other option to take. Then I wonder if life would likewise follow. 
I guess I’m an asshole. The glee I collect from the people around me, it keeps me afloat. I think it’s safe to say I used them. Sometimes loving and taking advantage blurs in the periphery, and I can only try and be less of the asshole I already am. 
Loneliness finds a way, even with people around. They might not say, or they might not notice, but when fear consumes, I take more than what they give, until they can’t give me any more before theirs turn empty, then I leave and take from another. Until when can they pour so that my glass never empties? I get anxious and vexed. But what can I do? I still want to survive. So I apologize, for being selfish. Don’t worry, though. Sometimes I’d rather not take, or bother, or hurt. Then I would wonder about tipping over, spilling everything that’s left. I wonder what it will be like to let go.
This fear— it trips my mind. Sometimes I look for people to mask the lonely. Sometimes, despite people, it couldn’t help but show. Still, I want to believe that I’ll survive. I only wonder, I never want. People have been rather too kind and I’m grateful. I answer by fighting back. Until then, I ask, for at least one to keep my glass filled. I can’t afford to go empty.
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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one thing about orpheus and eurydice is you guys are all like “i’m different i wouldnt turn to look at her” because you are all familiar with the story of orpheus and eurydice. but orpheus wasnt familiar with the story because he was in it lol.
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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One year and four months passed yet everything feels like yesterday. Until now, I still feel accountable for your death. If only I could turn back time, I shouldn't have said those words. I don't miss you but I am guilty. I hate myself and I'm longing for the happy times. I guess healing will never happen to me.
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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“Great writers are indecent people
they live unfairly
saving the best part for paper.
good human beings save the world
so that bastards like me can keep creating art,
become immortal.
if you read this after I am dead
it means I made it.”
– Charles Bukowski
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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To all the people out there looking for true love. There is no such thing as true love. Just look for love because love is true in itself.
Saying true love is like saying sweet honey: You don't add anything to the honey by saying it sweet because the essence of honey is sweetness. So is the case with love, you can't increase it's value by saying it true.
Remember,
"Agar sachchi hai tabhi toh mohabbat hai, warna fareb"
-Bharat Chauhan
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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i managed to survive that day
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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I am longing for my innocence
the kind and gentle skin
the sweetness of my lips
and the soft sentences from my mouth
time goes by too fast
I did not even notice
that I leave scars on an open space
I did not even notice
that affection left me with curiosity
the how’s and the why’s
conundrum that keeps me awake at night
will I ever withstand as a lover?
my heart, my soul, my body, all that I am
including those unforeseen
I serve it naked, raw, in heat and free
but after all of this
did you ever love me?
I am yearning for an honesty
great truths from a soul I do not recognize
did you ever lie?
the thought of you leaving
grow fear within me
I don’t desire you to say goodbye
but then
if you look at me with disdain
a heavy metal whose melting on the snow
let go, let go of me
don’t let blood stain your name
leave me, leave me at once
for I, as a lover, wholeheartedly
burn myself away from you
but if you can feel me beyond inclination
if you see me the way I see you
without being naked, without having to apologize
without running needles on our veins
if you dive and march into water
and will find peace with me
then keep me close to you
and I will keep you closer to me
our connection, the us, the shared insanity, the versions of ourselves
did not fall and vanish
it collides towards my chaos
and its tough comforting our past
like an inferno, but in two
but after all of this
did you ever love me?
will I still keep on loving you?
//excerpts from the risk that hurt the most: love and its aftermath
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walking-metaphor · 1 year
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I desire love before I go to walk across the shore on Friday nights to feel the warmth and comfort of touch to press kisses on skin, to laugh, to cry and be free a love that I’ll keep as I perform my last goodbye a love that I’ll remember as I erase memories
but then, who would ever want to withstand my chaos?
I am a mutilated being I died a long time ago but then I resurrect and become many among one’s I didn’t beg for justice nor seek for the truth I stab my back, leave and celebrate my resurrection as if I did not pledge not guilty for murder as if I did not kneel and asked for an eternal rest
why did they let me live to become versions I abhor?
I desire love before my trial but then, who among us is the one who yearn for love? I versus we, we versus I the poet, the hopeless, the innocent, the daring, the lover, the killer and evil the I in us, the us in I, before I go, before we go, will we ever, will I ever come across to a love that will surpass fear, life and death? a love that will embrace all that I am, all that we are, all visions of me, all my differences the split second of uniqueness, the borders of my soul and the changes that is constant the inconsistency of my strength and the weakness that is tied on my tongue I long for that love, the love that can console my own inferno
but who among us who yearn for love?
all versions of me are suffocated everything feels like a lie
but after all these sentences the killer and evil will choose to reject love and I will be left standing in damnation
who would ever want to love someone who can’t even recognize thy self?
I shouldn’t have resurrected
will love ever find me in afterlife?
Maybe I am truly meant to go.
I am deeply curious how does it feel to be love, that great, pure and kind love. Will I ever come across to one before detaching myself in this world?
//the last desire of unknown
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