I am sick of people and I am sick of everything
I am sick of all sights and descriptions of nothing
I am sick of the sun
Sick of my hair
Sick of my face
And sick of you pretending that you care
Everything infuriates me and i'm sure each person's incompetence subtracts my will to live
Why cant everyone just leave me alone
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 8:17 PM UTC
You don't know me at all so stop pretending like you do
Every word, every action just annoys me deeply
I wish you'd stop talking but then i'd miss your voice
I wish you'd get out my sight but then i'd crave your presence
Why can't I make up my mind?
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 8:14 PM UTC
i used to count days until my birthday
hours until my dad came home
months until Christmas came
now i count years until im done
years before i can move out
years until i can start my own life
will i ever stop counting?
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 11:19 AM UTC
Sometimes I picture and ponder
Wither and wonder
What it would be like
To be thin again
My stomach yells at me
Begging me to feed it
But I just laugh it off
And tell her, "you wont feel it"
But whats the point
Of all this stuff
If I dont feel a single thing at all
Sometimes it feels like a storm
The waves crashing against the shore
Every drop of food, a sharp seashell
Every ounce of water, a inch of rain
Tell me when it'll be enough pain
May 7
May 7, 2026 at 3:07 PM UTC
Sometimes I wish my umbrella would take me up up and away
Through the clouds
Above the seas
To a place where I can finally be me
Sometimes I feel the wind
Tugging at my sleeves
Whispering and gnawing terrible things at me
So I start to wonder
Feeling the plunder
As I sink deep deep deep
Into the place where I am truly meant to be me
May 7
May 7, 2026 at 3:00 PM UTC
he told me he loves me
and now he says he’s in love with me
i didn’t believe him at first
so i told my brother
“look at the way he looks at you,” he said
but maybe the problem is me
maybe i don’t love myself enough
to recognize when someone's actually in love with me
but to love and to be in love are two separate things
he says he knows what he said
---
i think im lucky
but its hard to believe
tough luck i guess
Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 6:32 PM UTC
Who is this person that stands in the mirror in front of me
Is this me or another version of myself I have created to be
And in such ways we are nothing the same
A mirror me I am afraid
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 8:55 PM UTC
he signed love in pink ink
folded the letter with care
licked and pressed down the crease
then fished my hair from the drain.
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 7:46 PM UTC
the bed still has an imprint
even on a friday night
snowflakes turn to waterfalls
she still plays on repeat
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 7:34 PM UTC
Her skin was the color of band aids
Her eyes the texture of gauze
Her hips were jagged
Small scabs above all
They'll tell her she's average
And that nothing is wrong at all
Dec 22, 2025
Dec 22, 2025 at 4:57 PM UTC