Oh my precious witch,please ... leave me.
I m just a mere human,with all my fears and sadness.
Im nothing like you,all powerfull and wise,therer are better ones for you somewhere. I recognize how gentle you are letting me stay but... im undeserving of your gracious presence,after all... I was never enough before.
Your burned hands shouldnt touch the small watery face of mine. your calming voice shouldnt sound so caring for me.
You shouldnt forgive me for my sins,the heavy cross that I can barely carry on my back.
my big heart cant handle the weight of your soul,i shouldnt learn so much about the magic you insists in bringing to me.
my presence is slowly consumimg your life,i wouldnt bear the sadness that would consume me alone after so long with your majestic company,I would be the first human to die of love.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 7:29 PM UTC
Most people like to give reasons for their lifes,But what happens when you live for the others?
You wake up with no purpose,eat without hunger,sleep thinking about how the death and sleep are similar,how paceful it fells.
You live a life that isnt yours,It's someone else's.
You may hope for their death in your darkest thoughts, because if they go,you could join them without guilt.
You wonder if it wouldn't be easier...
And you wonder even more how poetic it would be your body hanging in the nearest cloth you´d find in a unslept dawn.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 6:58 PM UTC
Sometimes the dark side of the room becomes irresistible. Before you notice, you're already there, craving solitude, wrapped in a silence so loud it feels like comfort. Darkness makes you feel safe now. You know you shouldn’t surrender to something so faint, so shapeless, yet it pulls you in all the same.
There is a feeling without a name that leans close and whispers that this is allowed—that this is how you're meant to feel. The melancholy that fills your sensitive soul tells you it is unique, almost sacred. It makes you feel special. Understood. Chosen, in a way no one else has chosen you.
To know that only you understand yourself is both relieving and mortifying.
Maybe it is better this way. When words escape your tight throat, they twist and fracture, bruised by the weight of what you carry. You think about letting it out, about turning the ache into language, but it never feels right. No one would understand anyway. The ones who might have were swallowed by this same need to be useful, to create something—to feel something.
All that remains are the songs they left behind—sincere, raw, scribbled on sheets of terrible poetry. You reach something close to peace only when you ask yourself when you will be brave enough to put an end to this mediocre life.
Your mind devours itself, and you throw up art—if it can be called that—because it is the only thing that keeps you breathing. Creation stitches your fragile soul together, even if only for a moment. At least this melancholy is gentle with you, unlike the looks and words you endure when you must face the filthy reality of the world you inhabit.
You drown yourself in anything that echoes the loud silence in your chest. You pretend you don’t miss the people who hurt you, but the truth lingers: you wanted connection. Still do. Maybe you just want the peace that comes from its absence, too. You feel an sense of justice when things don't end up well for you deep down.
At the end of the day, you're only human—terrified of living, yet quietly mourning a death you can't reach… not while you continue being a coward.
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 7:54 AM UTC
It feels strange to wake up knowing you won't be texting me,
Asking to play some random horror game,
Only for us to play something I chose instead.
If I had known this would happen,
I would have played whatever you wanted.
You were my first real friend,
And the last I feel I’ll ever have.
Nobody is capable of replacing you, my dearest friend.
I wish I had stayed awake until you fell asleep on those gaming nights.
Everything reminds me of you;
I don’t think I could ever forget.
You left a hollow place in my heart.
I wish I could have told you how much I love you,
And how much I miss you now.
That town became nothing without you.
I’m sorry for being selfish and leaving you alone at school.
No girl in the world was worth more than our friendship.
I always tried to seem "cooler" for you,
But now I know you liked me just as I was—awkward and insecure.
We grew up together;
I’ve never had times as good as the ones I had with you.
I will think of you whenever I see that anime
I recommended to you three years ago—
The one you never got around to watching.
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 6:43 AM UTC
The other day, I looked at myself in the mirror after getting a haircut.
I was shocked for a few seconds, then scared—because the person I saw facing me wasn't me.
I felt a weird feeling in my chest and stomach, as if I were just an intruder in my own body and mind.
I catch myself saying things I don’t really mean, but by the time I notice, I’ve already said them. When that happens, I feel the same way as before.
I feel scared because I can't find myself. Sometimes I have to stop and think about what things I like or what type of person I am, and I just can’t tell.
I try to keep my eyes closed and not look down when I shower, because if I do, I’ll make an unpleasant expression; it isn’t really me.
Some days I want to die; on others, I’m scared of dying. Sometimes I just want to feel loved, to feel a connection—the warmth of another human being touching my arms, my hands, my neck, my lips, my hair. But I also hate people. Maybe that’s just a reflection of all the mean comments, sarcastic looks, fake loves, and slaps in the face I received in school. I used to go to school, but now I can’t even do that anymore. I feel anxious and panicked just by leaving my place for too long.
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 1:16 AM UTC