There are things we don't say,
words that sit behind our teeth
bashing and chilling away at them
till our mouths fill with blood
We smile instead of saying them
We nod until our necks bend and break
We tell everyone else
that they'll be okay
We become experts
at holding pieces together,
fixing everyone else,
patching their wounds
even while our own hands shake.
Because somehow,
their sadness feels easier to carry
than our own,
like being shot at hurts less
when you know you're saving someone you love
So we answer every call,
agree with every request,
bend until we're almost breaking,
afraid that saying no
might make us less lovable
Afraid that needing help
might make us a burden.
And when the nights grow heavy,
when our thoughts become rooms
we don't want to sit alone in,
we tell ourselves to stay quiet.
Someone else has it worse
Someone else needs us more
Someone else deserves the space we take up
So we hide our storms
behind practiced laughter,
like nobody notices
pretending strength means silence,
pretending survival means carrying everything alone
But the things that we don't say
they deserve to be spoken
That being tired is not weakness.
That hurting is not failure.
That asking for help
does not make a person difficult to love.
honestly it might be the bravest thing,
maybe to be loved,
it's about not holding everyone together
maybe it's admitting
that we are falling apart too
Maybe it's finally speaking
the things we don't say.
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 2:18 PM UTC
sometimes i get so angry i can’t breathe
like my throat forgets how to work
like my chest turns into a locked room i’m stuck inside
it not gradual either
it just smacks me in the face
like i sat on train tracks wit one aproaching
one second i’m fine and the next i’m not even me anymore
my whole body changes
hands shaking
jaw tight
vision going sharp around the edges like everything is too loud and too close
and i feel it building in my skin like heat i can’t let out
i want to break things
i want to scream until my throat hurts
i want to say things that cut deep just so someone finally understands what it feels like inside me
and i hate that that’s where my head goes
but it does
i can't hold it in
i try to so hard, there's times i do
times nobody can see how much rage is inside
but it always eventually boils over
soemtimes for no reason at all
it’s like something in me switches and I stop caring what happens after
I just want the pressure OUT
and the worst part is I recognize it
like I’ve seen it my whole life
my mom when she’s angry doesn’t feel like my mom anymore
she feels like a storm in the house
like everything has to get smaller just to survive it
my dad too he's quiet at first and you can just see it in his eyes, a look you can't forget
like you can tell something’s about to break even if nobody’s speaking
and then I get like that
and I hear them in my own mouth
in my own voice
in the way I say things I don’t even fully mean or agree with but I can’t stop them coming out it's in my nature
it scares me because it feels automatic
like I don’t get a choice in the moment
like I’m just watching myself turn into something I used to be afraid of
and I don’t even know how to explain that to people
because after it passes I’m just left there
quiet
tired
disgusted with myself
and i can't help but cry
replaying everything I said like I’m watching someone else ruin everything
hating who i can't stop myself from being
and I try to act like it didn’t happen
but it did
it always does
and sometimes I wonder if this is just me
or if I learned it so early it got stuck in me
like it was never taught as words
just sounds
doors slamming
voices raised
silence that didn’t feel safe
always listening for when the next person would barge into my room, an eternal flame living in their heads and hearts,
breathing fire into my face,
leaving burns that teachers ignored
and now it lives in me too
like it was always mine
and I hate that I can’t tell where it ends
what part is me
and what part is just everything I came from
i hate that i can't stop it
this isn't who i want to be
but unfortunately
things like these are things you can't change
things you can't run from
not when everywhere you go
you leave a trail of gasoline
one wrong word being the match
like somebody lighting the twine on a bomb
my temper is something waiting to explode
i just want to be gentle
i want to have control,
that's what it's always been about right?
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 5:36 PM UTC
It's probably the first i've talked about it really
been fully honest
it's an embarrassing thing
to not believe what happened
and cry over something insignificant instead
my essay helped me
maybe now
i can tell the real story
of the one thing that changed everything
the one loss that i will never get over
May 25
May 25, 2026 at 6:37 PM UTC
I can’t do this anymore
I can’t keep stitching myself together every morning
just to spend the entire day unraveling again
Something inside me is wearing thin
like cloth dragged over nails
like skin pulled too tight over broken machine
Every thought feels infected
every breath comes back wrong
I walk around carrying this body
like it’s a dying animal strapped to my spine
heavy and twitching and impossible to save
Sometimes I swear my ribs are caving in
curling around my lungs like fists
trying to crush every breath before it reaches me
I smile and my face feels delayed
like muscles tugged by invisible strings
like something underneath me is learning how to pretend
I’m exhausted in ways sleep can’t touch
The kind of exhaustion that settles in the marrow
thick and cold
until even standing up feels like dragging a corpse through wet concrete
And nobody can see it
Nobody sees the rot
the cracking
the awful feeling that my insides are collapsing into themselves
while I keep answering texts
and saying “I’m fine”
with a mouth that barely feels human anymore
I don’t know when I started disappearing
Maybe it was gradual
maybe pieces of me have been falling off for years
rotting quietly behind me while I kept moving
All I know is that I’m running out of things to give
running out of ways to survive myself
And some nights I lie awake feeling this enormous emptiness inside me
like my body has been hollowed out
and something vast and cold has made a home there
I keep trying to fight it
I really do
But I’m so tired of carrying pain
that feels alive
May 15
May 15, 2026 at 6:59 AM UTC
i love you
-not in that way-
that's the worst part
because even with your hands searching for the light switch
even with you trying reaching out and sending texts
i still feel myself sinking beneath something enormous,
something alive under my skin
and i can't move
i can't reply i know anything i say will be dry like i don't care, but i do
it's just
the dark inside me has learned my shape
it wears me like wet clothing
i can feel it stretching my ribs apart millimeter by millimeter,
threading itself through my organs
like roots splitting through concrete
at night my body doesn't feel sealed correctly
it feels unzipped.
i swear i can feel things moving underneath my flesh,
slow turns and spasms,
like nests of insects curling inside my muscles,
chewing patiently through tendon and vein.
my spine aches like it's growing wrong
sometimes i imagine it unfolding upward,
vertebrae stacking and cracking and pushing against the back of my neck
until something sharp finally tears through
i touch my chest just to make sure i'm still closed shut
some mornings my jaw feels unhinged,
hanging loose like it wants to split wider,
wide enough to let all the rot crawl out at once
and my reflection looks less like me every day
its smile stretches too long
its eyes look cloudy and swollen,
like they've been soaking in dark water for years
sometimes i look too quickly
and it feels like the thing in the mirror moves a second before i do
i'm so tired of pretending this body belongs to me
tired of dragging around bones that feel sharpened from the inside,
like they're trying to carve their way free
every breath feels infected
every heartbeat sounds swollen and sick,
wet and uneven,
like something dying in the walls
and underneath all of it
there's this hole opening wider and wider inside me
not pain
not sadness
it's a huge starving emptiness pulling
at my organs,
pulling at my thoughts,
pulling until i feel parts of myself peeling loose and dropping into it
i think eventually there won't be enough of me left to come back
maybe one day i'll finally fall all the way through myself,
leave behind nothing but an empty skin still pretending to breathe
i hate how comforting thats been sounding to me
May 15
May 15, 2026 at 6:52 AM UTC
this place was never clean
drugs were passed around more than hope ever was
gangs were something you learned about before you were even old enough to understand death
more violence than street signs
more sirens than birds at night
more trash on lawns than ferns
but somehow
it still got worse
now it feels like every person i know is disappearing into something i don't want to see
friends i grew up with are getting arrested
starting fights like they had something to prove
getting high so often their eyes look more like the bodies of the people we already lost than alive
throwing punches in the same playgrounds we used to throw footballs across as kids
and i just stand there watching it happen
watching people lose themselves piece by piece
this town feels like it eats people alive
like it takes whatever softness is left in you
and replaces it with anger
with violence
with hopelessness
every year the streets feel darker
every year the kids look more exhausted
like everybody already knows how their story ends
and stopped trying to outrun it
shoelaces hanging from power lines
another story on the news
another house shot up on Lovejoy
nobody cooperating
and honestly
i don’t blame them
people here don’t shoot to scare you
they shoot to leave something permanent behind
to make sure everybody understands the message
that’s the part nobody outside this place understands
how exhausting it is trying to stay good somewhere that keeps begging you to become worse
to fall back into the anger you came from
because i did try
i tried so hard to become better than the things around me
learned to keep my head down
learned to walk away from fights even when every part of me wanted to swing first
swallowed anger until it felt corrosive inside my chest
forced myself not to follow everybody else down the same road
because i know what happens when i become that person
when i was at my worst
i felt untouchable and completely empty at the same time
free in the ugliest way possible
nothing mattered
everything felt rotten
and i wanted to disappear with it
i fought my way out of that mindset
out of that hole that kept trying to bury me alive
but now i look around
and it feels like this place keeps pulling everyone back toward the same ending
like no matter how hard you fight to become something better
this town keeps its hands around your throat
trying to turn you back into it too
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 6:59 AM UTC
I try to describe myself
but the image never comes out human
it comes out swollen
purple and black
stomach split open on hot pavement
steam rising from intestines in winter air
something half digested
sometimes i think there is something inside me
something dead tucked beneath my ribs
and every breath pumps the smell deeper through my body
people tell me i'm depressed
or anxious
or just stuck in a mood
like those words are enough
to explain the feeling of your own mind
chewing through itself
biting pieces off until it's gone
i spend hours dissecting my memories
fingers buried deep in them
pulling out sinew
searching for a reason i became this way
but every explanation rots
before i can hold it long enough to start and believe it
i cannot tell if i was wounded
or if i simply grew mold in the dark
either way
something inside me spoiled early
i feel it leaking into my everyday life
my friendships
my voice
the way i love people
the way i stand frozen in grocery store aisles
feeling hunted
like something awful is about to happen
and everyone else already knows
sometimes i can feel the maggots beneath my skin
small desperate things
feeding quietly from the inside out
hollowing me carefully
until i sound normal when i speak
even though there is almost nothing left of me
i think about the future
and feel the primal fear animals feel
the way they feel seconds before the gunshot
the shift in the air
the change in the room
every nerve in your body starts screaming
run
run
run
but there really is nowhere to go
when the thing hunting you
is yourself
i keep waiting for someone to cut me open
and finally discover what is wrong with me
to peel back my skin
like wallpaper in a condemned house
and uncover the black rot spreading through the walls
proof
proof that this suffering is real
that something irreversible happened to me
instead
all the doctor sees
is a red beating heart
still working
like it never learned exhaustion
like it refuses to collapse
despite everything i have imagined against it
and maybe that is the worst part
what if nothing terrible happened to me at all
what if i wanted a sickness so badly
i carved one into myself
repeated it until it sounded true
until even i believed it
until the day my body gives out
or i finally can force it to
i will keep dragging this corpse behind me
swollen with everything
i never became
May 12
May 12, 2026 at 8:42 PM UTC
my mother says i used to be fearless
says it the way people talk about towns destroyed by fires
talks about me how you'd talk about a dead friend years later
like she still walks through the ashes of me sometimes
trying to figure out where the little girl went
and i wish i could tell her
i wish i knew exactly when i became this
this thing that flinches at the sound of footsteps at my door
the creature that lashes out
that apologizes before speaking
that feels embarrassment explode in its head and chest over the smallest little mistakes
i think something in me learned too early
that love could disappear without warning
people can stop caring about you in seconds
and ever since then
being alive has felt like trying not to get left again,
like i need to prove useful to others rather than love myself
my room smells damp and rotten
mold growing inside cups beside my bed
clothes covering the floor completely
so cluttered that it feels like i’m sinking into hell with every step with no way back
the air itself feels sick
sometimes i lie there for hours
staring at the bottom of my loft bed from the mattress underneath
watching my life decay around me in slow motion
and the worst part is
i do not even have the energy to save myself anymore
i think despair becomes physical eventually
i think after enough years
it settles into your muscles
into your posture
your legs rotting
thinning your hair
into the way your body starts dragging itself around
like it already knows there is no help coming
that everyone's already given up on you
long before you even did
my mother opens the door
already disappointed
that pressed face
her lips frowning
glued disappointment
that exhausted sadness in her eyes
like loving me slowly became another exhausting responsibility
she never wanted
and God that look ***** me every time
because part of me wants to scream at her
you helped make me like this
you watched me become terrified of everything
you watched me start disappearing
and another part of me just wants her to hold me
like she did before everything got ruined
which honestly feels more pathetic
and even more shameful
though
my father was worse
his anger lives in my blood now
even years later
my body still reacts to footsteps before my brain does
heart racing
breath caught halfway in my throat
waiting to find out if someone is about to come in angry
the saddest part is i'm just like him
to quick to react
defensive and deflective with no hope at all
i hate how childhood roots inside people
i hate that fear outlives the danger
the feelings don't go away just because the situation passed
and lately i’ve started noticing
how every time i come back from one of these episodes
i come back wrong
meaner
more exhausted
harder to reach
like something is peeling pieces off me slowly
i keep thinking eventually i’ll hit bottom
and finally start climbing up, get back together and fix myself
but there just seems to be more bottom
more heaviness
more shame
more anger
and more nights spent lying awake
feeling my own mind pressing down on me
like a hand over a mouth like vines on an old building
i am so tired of living inside myself
i am so tired of dragging this version of me
from one day to the next
i can still remember what it felt like
to be easy to love
sometimes i catch glimpses of the person i could have been
and it feels like mourning somebody
i never got to become
and at night
when the house goes quiet
i get this horrible feeling in my chest
like maggots are eating away at me and everyone is just watching me decompose but can't help me
like i'm too far gone
like one day my mother is going to open the door again
see the mold
the stale air
the girl she doesn't recognize in her bed
not waking up from the commotion
no matter how many times her name gets called
and then she'll realize too late
that i have been drowning for years
and nobody felt like pulling me up
that i was too heavy to lift like the heaviness of looking at who i've become in the mirror
that there was never going to be a version of me
that should of been able to survive this long
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 12:19 PM UTC
open minded.
my mom always says
she’s open-minded.
she says it like it’s one of her best qualities,
yet also her curse.
like it proves she’s a good person.
like seeing every side of everything
makes her wiser than everyone else.
and maybe it does.
but sometimes
i feel like the only side
she can’t see
is mine.
she’ll sit me down
and explain people to me
like they’re complicated math problems.
you have to understand them.
you have to see it from their perspective.
you don’t know what they’ve been through.
and i try.
i try so hard
to understand everyone
the people who hurt me,
the people who crossed lines,
the people who say things
they shouldn’t.
because that’s what she taught me.
but the second
i react wrong
or say the wrong thing back
or get angry
or stop being patient,
suddenly i’m the problem.
suddenly
i should’ve known better.
i should’ve been kinder.
more mature.
more understanding.
it’s like everyone else
gets a whole story
a past,
a reason,
a wound
that explains why they act the way they do.
but when it’s me,
i’m just told
i should be better.
and i’m so tired of it.
i’m tired of being the one
who always has to understand.
tired of being told
to look at every angle
except the one
where i’m actually allowed
to be hurt.
sometimes i wish
just once
she’d look at me
the way she looks at everyone else
with patience.
with curiosity.
with that same voice
i can’t stand,
the one that says,
“maybe there’s a reason
they acted like that.”
because maybe
there’s a reason
i did too.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 8:46 AM UTC
when we were thirteen
i thought being best friends meant
you stay.
even when your body said don’t.
even when your stomach twisted
and something felt wrong
in a way you couldn’t name yet
you stay.
because leaving
makes you dramatic.
annoying.
too much.
so i stayed.
we weren’t just friends.
we were everything.
sleepovers every other weekend,
lying to our parents
because it had always been normmal.
we weren't bad kids,
just wanted to live free.
it was us.
always just us.
and i didn’t know.
how was i supposed to know?
you crossed lines
like they didn’t exist
not all at once.
never enough to prove.
just small things.
small enough
that i blamed myself instead.
i didn’t have words.
i didn’t even know
i was allowed
to need them.
you pushed
and when i said stop,
it meant nothing.
it never meant anything.
and i let it happen
not because i wanted to,
but because i thought
being good
meant not making it a problem.
good friend.
easy.
quiet.
because bad things
aren’t supposed to happen
with your best friend.
they come from strangers.
from adults.
from stories on the news.
not you.
not the girl
who sat next to me
my whole life.
not the house
that felt like mine.
pt 2
so i stayed
when everything in me
wanted to leave.
and by the time i understood,
it was already done.
now i’m sixteen.
three years later
and i’m still there.
sitting across from my mom
while she defends you
like i’m not even in the room.
“she was a victim too.”
i know.
but why does that
make me disappear?
“you should’ve come home!”
"You were just down the street."
“you should’ve made an excuse.”
i didn’t know
i needed one.
“i taught you better.”
better than
trusting my own best friend?
better than freezing
when something felt wrong?
something I couldn’t even explain,
not having the words to yet
every time she says something,
i get smaller.
like this is all my fault.
like i didn’t say no right, too lazily
as if i didn’t leave fast enough.
like i failed
at stopping something
i didn’t even know what was
sometimes i almost believe it.
sometimes i think
maybe it wasn’t that bad.
i could of fought her more
woke her dad
even if i did, i know you'd be mad
no matter what happens
you wouldn't care
but it was wrong
i just need someone
to say it.
to say
it was wrong.
that it mattered.
that what you did to me
actually counts.
somebody to sit me down
tell me they care
instead of defending you
over and over
like i’m the one
who has to explain myself.
she was a victim too
but i was hers
i was a kid, one that still is
so why am i the only one
being questioned?
i’m your kid.
and somehow
it's easier for you
to care about the Lune y toon
than your own child
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 7:29 AM UTC