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isla-1
14/F/new jersey
i know the moments meant nothing to you and i know you've forgotten that you don't find scraps of me around your house and crumpled in your pockets and you don't find old journals with pages filled about me; i know i never meant as much to you as you did to me
0
10h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 1:32 PM UTC
i know i loved you the most
call me composed of pieces of you- the places where you waited in the morning scraps of lace hidden in pages the museum where we cast our shadows in front of the lightbox where i could still trace your outline on the wall, alone now; how much did you take from me how much did i take from you? do you hate me for all the reasons i miss you? around my shoulders there is a heavy cloak that you used to bear with me
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May 1
May 1, 2026 at 1:44 PM UTC
composite
I told you already I hate myself. I said it plain, not dressed up for help. I told you I’m sad, not once, not light I meant all of it. I meant it right. You know how small things get under my skin, how everything echoes, how loud it gets in. So why don’t you ask? Why don’t you try? Why won’t you look me straight in the eye? You see me not eating. You see the new band. You know what that means you understand. You know me better than anyone else. You’ve heard every version of how I felt. So don’t act distant, don’t act unaware you see it happening. You know it’s there. I’m not even subtle. I’m barely okay. I’m right here in front of you, fading each day. And you, my best friend just say nothing, stay gone. Like silence is easier to sit in than wrong. I feel alone. That’s the truth. And it hurts more because it’s you.
0
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 1:42 PM UTC
I thought I told you
I loved you with a ferver I could only describe as religious but our love was forgotten along with the promises we made and as we move about our lives and as you move on I'll still be stuck here dreaming of the life we could've had
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Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 2:08 PM UTC
forgotten
that feeling of inescapable sadness and despair the one that creeps up on you when no ones looking the one that is lurking in the darkest corners that feeling will never leave you. you can try to escape it but it will always somehow find you you can try to push it away and act like it isn't there so much so that you forget about it completely but in the back of your mind you know its there and you know that it will come back
0
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 2:04 PM UTC
the feeling that never leaves
I feel like a stranger in my own skin, like a paper marked by hands that shouldn’t have been. You painted on me with borrowed strokes, colors I never asked for, lines I never spoke. I tried to erase it all, scrubbed until I bled. But no matter how I try, the red remains instead. Why do I feel this shame, when none of it was mine to claim? Or is that just another lie— one you left behind in my name? Go on, throw another shade, brush another lie across my frame. Add one more mark on my arm— pretend you never meant me harm. Are you satisfied now? Does silence taste sweet? Is it peace you feel, or just a hollow retreat? The stains, they never fade, they follow me—like ghosts that stayed. I feel ***** in a way soap can’t cleanse, not even the rain makes any sense. I hope the paint on your hands never dries, I hope guilt sleeps where your comfort lies. And when you close your eyes, may my tears echo in your skies. My hands tremble still, my voice quiet and thin. You touched beauty and broke it— I was never meant to let you in. Run. Let shame chase your steps. Lie. Wear your mask again. Stain. Things that were never yours to touch. March. Through lives you’ve broken too much. Paint a little more. Maybe that will hide the cracks. Paint her, paint me— but never give the colors back. Your fingerprints are pressed on pages of my life, you signed a name I never gave you the right. Run. Lie. Scream. Hide. Paint. Stain. Break. Divide. You stole my innocence like ink on stolen lines. Does your guilt whisper at night, the way your memory haunts mine?
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Jan 14
Jan 14, 2026 at 2:07 PM UTC
Painted Skin
I feel like a stranger in my own skin, like a paper marked by hands that shouldn’t have been. You painted on me with borrowed strokes, colors I never asked for, lines I never spoke. I tried to erase it all, scrubbed until I bled. But no matter how I try, the red remains instead. Why do I feel this shame, when none of it was mine to claim? Or is that just another lie— one you left behind in my name? Go on, throw another shade, brush another lie across my frame. Add one more mark on my arm— pretend you never meant me harm. Are you satisfied now? Does silence taste sweet? Is it peace you feel, or just a hollow retreat? The stains, they never fade, they follow me—like ghosts that stayed. I feel ***** in a way soap can’t cleanse, not even the rain makes any sense. I hope the paint on your hands never dries, I hope guilt sleeps where your comfort lies. And when you close your eyes, may my tears echo in your skies. My hands tremble still, my voice quiet and thin. You touched beauty and broke it— I was never meant to let you in. Run. Let shame chase your steps. Lie. Wear your mask again. Stain. Things that were never yours to touch. March. Through lives you’ve broken too much. Paint a little more. Maybe that will hide the cracks. Paint her, paint me— but never give the colors back. Your fingerprints are pressed on pages of my life, you signed a name I never gave you the right. Run. Lie. Scream. Hide. Paint. Stain. Break. Divide. You stole my innocence like ink on stolen lines. Does your guilt whisper at night, the way your memory haunts mine?
Continue reading...
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My nails carved scars into my skin, As if pain could remove the feeling that lingers within. Blood spills on my body frame Yet it cannot clear the filth I feel. I scrub and scrub, No soap, no water, no time Can rinse away the weight of shame How strange this world is So loud, yet it never heard the screams That once lingered in those walls I tried to escape the shadows that gripped my ankles. To run from the arms that pinned me down. I choked on silence that was my peace I tried to ***** out the disgusting taste But it stuck to the roof of my mouth A bitter feeling that won’t go away no matter how hard i tried The bruises faded, But the memory never did. My cries for help, once strong Just disappeared A small plea for Nothing big. Time passed Now it was not where to be seen.
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Jan 14
Jan 14, 2026 at 2:06 PM UTC
How it feels
You were just a kid. That’s the first thing I need you to hear. You were not broken. You were not weak. You were innocent— and someone took advantage of that. You didn’t have the words for what was happening. You didn’t even know what lines could be crossed until someone stepped over them. You froze. You felt the shift. But you couldn’t name it. So you tucked it away deep enough to keep breathing. And that was not failure. That was survival. I know you blamed yourself. I know you wondered if you imagined it. If you let it happen. If being quiet made it real. But none of this was your fault. You were groomed to be unsure. You were made to question your gut. That confusion was not weakness— it was the smoke from someone else's fire. And now? Now you remember. And I am here, older, louder, with hands that only hold you gently. You are not ***** You are not broken. You are not what he did. You are still that girl with wonder in her chest. With light behind her fear. You survived in silence— but you do not have to stay there. I’ve got you now. We’re safe. And he can’t take anything else.
0
Jan 14
Jan 14, 2026 at 2:04 PM UTC
To the Girl Who Didn’t Know