I am my father's daughter
You can see it in my eyes
His anger
The same eyes my mother has
But angry
Angry at the world
Angry at him
Angry at myself
So much anger, so much pain
With no way to escape
Even if I bleed
The blood is the same
Same as his
Has always been
Always will be
I can't outrun it
Not the pain, not the misery
He gave me
All the trauma
It's always there
Like I am stuck in a loop
That never ends
I will die his daughter
And that's something that will haunt me for the rest of my life
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 7:40 PM UTC
Everybody asks, "What would you do
If you knew this was your last day on Earth?"
And people joke and say,
"I’ll go right to bed."
Well,
I almost had my last day on Earth.
But the world didn’t end when I was sixteen,
Watching the blood spill from my wrists just to feel something.
The world didn’t end when I was seventeen,
Inhaling smoke, killing my lungs
Just to be seen by someone.
The world didn’t end when I was eighteen,
His hands on my throat just as I screamed for him to **** me.
So, for my almost-last day on Earth,
I would walk into a flower shop
And pay them to send flowers to my best friend’s birthday
Every year for the next thirty years,
Because God knows she doesn’t get them as much as she deserves.
So, for my almost-last day on Earth,
I would write letters to tell people it’s not their fault and that I love them.
So, for my almost-last day on Earth,
I would take the money I have been hiding and piling up
And put it in my parents' mailbox just to help with the funeral.
I would ask for dark red roses—the same color my blood was dripping
As I went to bed.
And finally, I would go to bed feeling just a little better,
Because the world didn’t end when I was nineteen.
Apr 8
Apr 8, 2026 at 8:15 AM UTC
What is Earth without art?
— Just a "eh."
So, what truly is Earth without art?
All its colors,
textures,
shapes, and lights?
I wouldn’t know,
but there are people who do.
Those who see the world in black and white.
For them, it is so simple; there is no light.
Just two paths,
two decisions,
two ways life can go:
The easy one and the hard one,
the right and the wrong.
They are both long.
And it sounds so easy,
you almost get jealous of them.
But truly, is it?
Because they miss out
on all the colors, shapes, dances, and writing
that everybody else does.
So, what is Earth without art?
Just a rock.
Apr 8
Apr 8, 2026 at 7:47 AM UTC