Waste of space,
the one that I fill
I feel nothing but dread
I try to dream but all I do is crash
Flying like a ball of flame, I fall.
My emotions chained to me,
a smile permanently sewn into place.
What am I doing here?
Why do I keep going?
I do nothing but dream
and fall
Dec 26, 2024
Dec 26, 2024 at 9:19 PM UTC
Do you ever wonder what your future spouse is doing at this very moment?
I mean.. Given that it’s 12:11 AM on a school night, their cute *** better be sleeping. But... What if they are in a different timezone and it’s 7:11? What if they are just reading a book? Or thinking about their current crush? What if they are working on homework or playing sports? What if they are already in college and stressing over an essay that's due in 12 hours? Do I even know their name yet? Have I ever seen them walking down the street? What do we even have in common?
Or maybe it’s someone I know. Maybe it’s my best friend. Maybe it’s someone that I despise because of their immaturity. What if they hate me? It’s a fascinating thing to ponder over... But what if I never meet them? Maybe I am meant to be with them but I missed a chance or didn’t take an opportunity that would have led me to them. Maybe I’ll die before I ever speak their name.
Maybe.. Just maybe... Things will work out. Maybe I’ll have the life I’ve always wanted. Maybe I’ll have those two kids like I want. Maybe I’ll have those two dogs and one cat. Maybe I’ll have that perfect wedding I’ve always dreamed of... The one out in spring. Where there are polaroids hanging from the fairy-light entangled trees.
Where are you now? I hope you’re doing well. I can’t wait to meet you. I love you.
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 12:05 AM UTC
Some days I think I should just give up and be a housewife.
Marry a rich man.
Have lavish friends.
Be that person.
Because I know I won't be the person I want to be.
I won't reach my dreams.
I dream too big.
But then strangers come along.
This one told me to let people doubt me.
Let them see my failures.
Don’t act like I know what I’m doing if I don’t.
“Because that’s the kind of person that kills people.”
Instead,
“Let them doubt you.
Learn when you don’t know.
And when you have learned;
Prove it.
Show them your paycheck.
And buy them a **** drink.
Because you're a woman, you’ll be doubted even more -
So buy them another.”
That same day, I was talking to another stranger.
He asked how I got into such a prestigious school.
I said because of my background in robotics and their lack of females.
He corrected me, even though he doesn’t know me.
“Don’t think it’s because you’re a girl. It’s because they saw how special you are.”
It’s people like this, that gives me a little more faith.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 9:29 PM UTC
I'm so ******* tired and yet I can't seem to rest.
This isn't a dream, so how can I wake up?
How can I escape?
Tell me!
Shouldn't there be an exit sign in bright green or red lights?
It's a hazard not to have them
and yet it seems I'm the hazard.
How do I escape?
How can I escape the demon inside of me if I am the demon?!
I looked under the bed for the demon,
but it's all in my head.
It's controlling me.
I can't escape this dream.
Or is it reality?!
I can't rest!
My mind is racing.
-
Racing.
It's like Mario Kart.
If someone throws something and I happen to land on it I lose control and I fall behind,
slowing down.
People don't realize how they affect me.
How do I win this race if I'm racing the thing inside me?
How do I defeat my demon?!
How do I defeat it without destroying myself?!
I need to rest!
But I keep lapping around and falling behind.
I keep my problems under my bed,
that's where I thought my demon would be.
But my demon is the problem.
I'm the problem…- I'm the.. problem.
But I can't fix my problems when I'm tired.
And no one but my demon is around to help me.
I really need to rest…
but my bed is cold and bare,
and I hug the only thing I have..
My demon...
Myself…
I only have myself…
this world is a race,
and I'm falling behind.
You won,
I ran out of time..
I can finally rest...
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 12:34 AM UTC
I wish I was smaller.
I wish I was petite.
I wish I was weaker.
I wish someone would be here to hold me and keep me warm.
Someone here to prevent the chills from going up my spine.
I wish I was smaller.
I wish I was shorter.
I wish I was skinnier.
I wish my body weren’t so broad.
I wish I had a feminine body.
I’m happy with my body, I swear.
I just wish it wasn’t the way it was.
I wish I was skinnier, that I was not so broad, that I was shorter. That my nose was like the models from the magazines or that my thighs wouldn’t touch. Because I’m envious of my thighs.
I wish I had green eyes. The eyes of the leaves.. Not of the bark, because who finds bark beautiful? No, everyone looks to the leaves. They simply carve their lovers initials into the tree bark, leaving scars on me.
I’m envious of my thighs.
I’m envious of those skinny, pretty girls.
I’m envious of the model's bodies even though I know they go through hell.
I wish I was smaller.
I wish I was petite.
I wish I was weaker.
I wish I was pretty.
I wish I was light.
I wish my voice was soothing when I sing. Instead it’s raspy and grated. I’m quiet when I sing.. I’m quiet when I talk too… If I talk..
I wish I was smaller.
I wish I was petite.
I wish I was skinnier.
I wish I wasn’t so broad.
I wish my voice was smooth.
I wish my arms wouldn’t look the way they do.
Why do I keep getting picked on because of them?
I wish I was pretty.
I wish I could be loved.
I wish these voices would leave me alone.
I wish I could think straight.
I wish I was pretty.
I wish I was skinny.
I wish I looked like the models in the magazines.
I wish my hair didn’t have split ends or had different lengths.
I wish I didn’t have blemishes on my face
I wish I didn’t say the things I do. Because I always regret it in the end.
I wish my voice smooth.
I wish I talked more.
I wish I wouldn’t always feel the need to say sorry after I speak because I’m afraid that my voice isn’t smooth enough.
I wish I walked, talked, and looked the way the models do.
I wish I felt pretty
I wish I was I was skinny
I wish I could feel comfortable in my own skin
But I’m not.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 12:20 AM UTC
The night's venom bore through my skull.
The seduction to comply with its demand.
A tempting offer,
with a kind skeleton to show me the way.
His bones were cracked,
but still intact.
His boney smile did not seem so different from my own.
His hand gently enveloped mine as he dragged me along.
The beautiful fields he leads me through caught my eye,
the blues and purples of the field seemed to blend with the sky.
A moon falling on the horizon,
yet darkness still filled the sky.
He stumbled over his own feet.
You would think,
if he’s old enough to become a skeleton,
he should know how to walk by now.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 12:15 AM UTC
You are no winner,
So don’t act like I’m a prize to be won.
You can’t pay your way to win me.
I am a challenge, indeed.
I am not supposed to be easy to win over.
Because I’m not.
So bet all you like.
Say all you want.
Throw what you want;
Paper planes, words.
I don’t care anymore.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 12:08 AM UTC
I feel alone
But not always
The voices
The sadistic, vile voices.
They keep me company.
Like any child raised in a church
You begin to get used to talking how they do.
Copying their words
Mimicking their actions
Wearing what they wear.
No, my voices don’t sing hymns.
They don’t wear Sunday’s best.
They don’t plaster on a friendly smile.
But they also don’t compare me to the other girls.
I think..
They don’t talk about me behind my back.
Or do they?
No, No. They don’t flaunt my secrets.
They wouldn’t.. Right?
Church people are different then voices.
Much different...
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 12:07 AM UTC
I’m constantly cold.
My brain is always in overdrive.
My body will continue to twitch.
My eyes will water.
Yet you will forever keep me warm.
You will always keep me calm.
You will continue to distract me.
You will forever wipe away my tears.
My perfect solution has never been more clear.
My perfect solution,
Is you.
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 12:04 AM UTC
It's 7 a.m. and I still haven't slept.
Maybe it was because of the game.
Or maybe it was because I can't sleep when my thoughts are screaming at me.
You told me to go to bed before 4. I wanted to. Believe me. I truly did.
But I couldn't. And I didn't.
I asked if you were mad.
You said no, instead you told me you were disappointed.
I cried.
-
Call me what you want, but that **** hits the heart.
I'm sorry I didn't sleep. That pain in your voice kills me.
And I'm afraid of death.
That's why the voices do that.
They mimic your soothing voice and turn it into my worst nightmare.
I use you as a cleanser.
Instead, they use your blood to get the counter *****
-
No.
I'm sorry I can't sleep.
I'm sorry I'm a disappointment.
I'm sorry I'm so bad with words that I can't just tell you what's wrong.
Because I'm afraid that if I do you'll leave me.
I'm afraid to be alone.
Because when I'm alone, I think.
When I think, they appear.
Because they want to prove that I'm not alone.
So instead they show me pretty pictures of you standing there.
With the skin on your arms peeled back.
And your eyes crying blood.
Your hands outstretched with dried blood crusted down to your elbow.
-
I know.
It's just my imagination, right?
Those voices.
Those images.
They are just my imagination.
The worst part of my imagination.
-
I'm afraid.
Because I can't tell reality from my own world.
For me, both blur together.
I'm not sure what others see.
But I don't want them to see through my eyes.
Because these eyes never close.
Afterall, it's now 7:23 and I am still here, typing away. While you count sheep, I count pages of pathetic poems.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 7:57 PM UTC