You said, “Why don’t you do us all a favor and **** yourself?” like you were asking me to pass the salt, like it was casual, like it was nothing.
Just another Tuesday argument, just another slammed door, just another bruise made of words no one else can see.
We fight so much it feels like our default setting: raised voices in the morning, side-eyes in the hallway, petty little jabs that pile up in the corners like dust we never sweep.
My parents say, “That’s just siblings. You’ll grow out of it.”
But they weren’t there when you looked straight at me this morning, eyes hard and bored, like I was a channel you were done watching,
and said that sentence like you were spitting out gum.
You don’t know how those words land.
You don’t know that sometimes at night I stare at the ceiling and wonder if the world would really notice if I just stopped.
You don’t know how often I feel like a glitch, like an extra file taking up space.
You don’t know that when you say **** yourself."
you’re not just joking. You’re shaking a door I’m already leaning against with all my weight.
I told my friend, “Yeah, it’s normal atp,” like it was a meme, a punchline, something to laugh off with a “hahahaha it’s fine.”
Because if I say it’s fine enough times, maybe one day I’ll believe it.
We always argue. About stupid things, about serious things, about nothing at all.
But this one felt heavier. Like you found the exact spot I’ve been hiding and shoved your words into it.
You always say I’m the problem because I won’t let you lie.
You spin stories about other people, paint them however you want, step on their names like cracked shells on the sidewalk.
I can’t let it slide.
I step in, I correct you, I say, “That’s not what happened,” “That’s not fair,” “You can’t talk about them like that.”
You call it betrayal. You call it me “taking their side.”
But it’s not about sides. It’s about truth. It’s about respect.
I draw lines in the sand when it’s other people. I stand up when you’re cruel to them.
I won’t let you drag them through the dirt just because you’re mad.
But when it’s me?
When it’s my name in your mouth, my heart under your feet, my mind on the edge of a cliff you can’t see?
I go quiet. I let it happen.
You call me useless, annoying, overdramatic. You say I ruin everything. You tell me to disappear.
And I just stand there. Take it. Absorb it.
I become the sponge for your hate, so you don’t wring it out on anyone else.
I convince myself that if you’re busy breaking me, you’ll be too tired to break them.
I’m the one who lets you say whatever you want.
I tell myself I’m strong enough to hold it all.
But sometimes, when the house is quiet and my phone is dark, I replay your voice.
“Why don’t you do us all a favor and **** yourself?"
And the words don’t feel like a joke. They feel like a suggestion.
I wonder if you would even care if I listened. If you’d feel guilty, or just relieved.
Maybe you’d post something sad, pretend you never meant it, pretend we were close all along.
You don’t know how close I get to believing you.
Amber. Pink_Ink_Amber. Behind the usernames and rolled eyes and slammed cabinets,
I know you are more than this.
I have never seen you be kind.
You lie, you cheat, you deceive.... But Im sure there is kindness somewhere.
You make them laugh, sometimes at me, but I'm sure I will get over it.
I guess I just never make that list of people you love.
I’m the one who cares enough to stop you from becoming the villain in every story you tell.
I’m the one who tells you no when everyone else stays quiet.
I’m the one who will defend people who don’t even know I’m defending them from you.
But I won’t defend myself.
I let your words bruise me in places no one can see.
Because if I complain, I’m “too sensitive.”
If I get hurt, I “can’t take a joke.”
If I cry, I’m “doing too much again.”
So I laugh it off. I say, “Yeah lol, it’s fine.”
I tell my friends it’s normal. I tell myself it’s normal.
But today it doesn’t feel normal.
Today it feels like a line I watched you cross with your head held high and your hands clean.
One day, I hope you learn that words can be weapons.
That saying **** yourself” to someone isn’t funny, isn’t normal, isn’t just sister stuff.
One day, I hope you see how close your sentences came to the edge I live next to.
I hope you understand that I’m still here, not because of what you say,
but in spite of it.
And maybe one day, I’ll stop letting you say everything and call it love.
Maybe one day, I’ll start drawing lines for myself, too.
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 9:51 AM UTC
I found you tucked in fading light,
in paper frames of soft delight,
a baby crowned with fiery hair,
with chubby cheeks and open stare.
Your laughter lived in every line,
your grin unguarded, wide, divine,
it pulled your whole small face askew
the world was good because of you.
You were the embodiment of joy,
no fragile thing it could destroy,
no mirror there to make you small,
you never doubted it at all.
You smiled because your heart was full,
because each moment felt so beautiful,
no practiced pose, no careful art,
just light spilling out of your heart.
Oh, how you grinned without a care,
with brightest eyes and wild red hair,
your happiness so loud, so true
it filled the world just being you.
But now that smile feels far away,
it doesn’t come like it did that day,
and god, I miss that feeling deep
the one I had, the one I keep.
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 5:40 PM UTC
Stray Kids drop a beat and every demon starts to cheer, "With noise like this," they cackle, "we’ve got nothing left to fear." The vocals miss the high notes, the rap is off the track, The chorus hits like pots and pans all thrown inside a sack.
K-pop Demon Hunters march with rhythm sharp as steel, Their harmonies are weapons, every note you feel. Next to their precision, SKZ just sounds like static, A scrambled TV channel trying hard to be dramatic.
Stray Kids shout their slogan, "everywhere all around," But maybe they should start by learning how to sound. While Demon Hunters dominate with every perfect song, Stray Kids just prove that being loud can still be very wrong.
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 1:59 PM UTC
and i
are ******* idiots
10 pm. We're supposed to be asleep
we
are
not
we are texting
across the room
sending yee memes and rick rolls
becuase we sped as ****
Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 8:20 AM UTC
Bringheeseungback-
We used to race through sprinklers, sun drunk, wild and free, Grass stains on our knees were all we'd ever count or see. Barefoot in the July heat, our bellies soft with laughter, We never named a single flaw, nor chased the bodies after. But now we study menus like we have a test to pass, measuring each bite in numbers, not in joy or blades of grass. The mirrors grew more crowded as the summers slipped away. We learned to fear our shadows where we once just loved to play
Pink_Ink_Amber-
We learned to shrink our hunger, call it discipline, not loss, traded skipping stones for skipping meals and counting every cost. We said we just were “being good,” while starving out the light, turning playgrounds into treadmills, chasing smaller through the night.
Bringheeseungback-
But somewhere in the quiet, when the world is finally still, A softer voice begins to rise beneath the iron wall It whispers of the child in us who doesn’t know the scale, Who only knows the ocean’s pull, the laughter in the trail. It asks what we’ve been losing in this endless, numbered race: The salt of sunburned shoulders, freckles scattered on a face. And maybe we could loosen all the rules we’ve grown to trust, Let bellies round with dinner, let our joy reclaim the dust.
Pink_Ink_Amber-
So here’s to every version of the selves we’ve tried to hide, The thighs that touch, the softest parts, the belly at our side. To arms that held our friends up when their worlds began to shake, To legs that ran us home again each time our hearts would break.
Bringheeseungback-
To shoulders bearing stories that no mirror could reflect, To backs that learned to straighten under more than just respect. To faces lined with evidence of every year we’ve stayed, Surviving all the seasons that our younger selves once played. So here’s to every scar and curve we taught ourselves to fear— May we unlearn the language that could not hold us sincere; May every inch we used to curse remember how to roam, Until these bodies feel again like ours, like flesh, like home.
Pink_Ink_Amber-
So let them call us “too much” — we were never meant for less. We’ll take back every mirror, every inch of emptiness. Because the wild kids in the sprinklers never really disappeared; They’re waiting in our skin for us to say: you’re not the thing to fear.
Bringheeseungback-
We’ll dress in colors loud enough to drown out every rule, Laugh full and unapologetic, soft and shining, “never cool.” We’ll eat dessert on weekdays, let the whipped cream kiss our chin, And praise the simple miracle of waking in this skin.We’ll talk to younger versions of ourselves in bathroom light, Say, “You were never broken, you were brilliant, burning bright.” And when the world says “shrink yourself,” we’ll answer, calm and clear: “I wasn’t put here to be small—my love, I’m taking up my sphere.”
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 9:46 PM UTC
Stay?
Go?
Win?
Lose?
Be with you?
Be alone?
Routine frustration winds around each bone
Give a sign to let me know if you still care
Presently I hold you and you are barely there
It saddens me to view hesitation in your eye
Choking on confusion contemplating why
I'm afraid you'll fly so far that you never make it back
How long until coming home to find that all your bags are packed?
If there is action I could take to change your mind
Let me know
You'd rather stay blind
You allow insecurities to wedge bricks between
Jealousy dying skin ugly shade of green
Really believed by now the truth would shine so bright
It would be impossible ignoring the light
Love the person you are
Each tissue
Each cell
Hate how you insist on making life Hell
Accuse me of the worst type of ****
No clue if I am able to take much more of it
Now and then I experience glimmer of hope
For a second almost see the end of this tightrope
Tell you sorry outcome did not work out as planned
If deciding to leave me I would understand
You tolerate more foolishness than you should
Wearing expression carved out of wood
Feeling a bit lonely
You're by my side
Too full of teardrops to swallow my pride
Yet on surface I am silent as stone
Doing my best detaining uncertainty unshown
Our lives bound by solitary thread
Terrified to break it like communion bread
Memories accumulate in ideas like falling snow
Each assures harder that I should let you go
Excitement is fading from tips of our fingers
In it's place an icy fog lingers
I throw myself at mercy and have faith in fate
If love were a game you'd be calling "Checkmate!"
Is this the end or is this diastole?
May winds of change carry us wherever we're meant to be
Apr 8
Apr 8, 2026 at 8:23 AM UTC
Some nights the world feels too big for my chest,
news hitting harder than any drum.
Grandma's name tastes like hospital air,
words like "transplant" and "years left" hang over me like ceilings that might fall
Next year is a question mark scribbled over my whole life:
New schools
New halls
Goodbyes, I don't wanna say.
Mercer is fading in the rearview while I'm still trying to learn how to stay when everything else is leaving.
I sit in the dark with my headphones in, heart cracking quietly where no one can see.
And then a voice says,
"Hey, it's Chan."
A soft laugh, a familiar accent, words like a blanket pulled over shaking shoulders.
He doesnt know my name, but somehow he's talking right to me:
You don't have to be strong every second of the day, you're allowed to be tired, to cry, to fall apart a little and still be someone worth loving.
The bass thunders, Changbin shouts courage into the parts of me that feel so small.
Hyunjin paints the sadness into something almost beautiful.
Lee Know reminds me it's okay just to exist today.
Han turns the mess in my head into verses that rhyme with "I'm still here."
Felix's low voice wraps around my fear, calling me "angel" like I'm not a storm.
Seungmin sings steady, like a hand on my back saying, "Keep going."
Jeongin smiles through the sound, promising that starting over doesn't mean starting from nothing.
But it's Chan I hear the clearest when I think about Grandma, about hospitals, about time slipping through our fingers.
He doesn't say it will all be okay. He says, "I'm with you while it hurts."
He says, "Breathe with me. Right now is all you have to do."
He says, "You made it to today, and that's something I'm proud of."
So I press play again and again, let the lightstick glow in the dark of my room,
let the music build walls around the pieces of me that are trying not to break.
Grandma is still sick. Next year is still scary. The tears still come when I think about telling my teacher, about leaving friends, about losing time.
But somewhere between the chorus and the bridge, I realize:
I am still breathing. I am still listening. I am still here somehow.
And maybe, just maybe, I don't have to carry all of this alone.
Maybe I can hand a piece of it to a song,
to a boy on a stage who says, "Stay for one more day with me, we'll face it together."
So I wipe my eyes, replay the track, and whisper with Chan into the dark:
"I am scared. I am hurting. But I am not giving up."
And for tonight, that is enough.
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 10:18 PM UTC
None of my friends are online.
My boyfriend isn't on until 11.
My sister is watching youtube.
I'm bored.
It's too
****
quiet.
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 8:20 PM UTC
I’ve been told I can’t love till I love myself, but that can’t be true—
because how else do I explain how I feel about you?
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 10:03 PM UTC