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matcha May 2018
this weight.

it's been on my shoulders for most of my life.

its constantly weighing me down and it seems to get heavier the more
stressed i begin to feel.

i don't want to believe they're responsibilities and the high expectations i hold for myself, but they are.

which ******* *****.

why do i have to live my life stressing over an exam that won't matter in several years when i could be worrying about the imminent plummet of this planet called earth.

this world, this planet, Earth.

it could die any time soon.

it could suddenly implode on itself, it could instantly fall to its inevitable doom due to pollution, overcrowded populations, human pollution.

this world that we deem as "home" could instantly disappear and we would go along with it.

but here i am

stuck worrying about an exam that determines whether or not i get college credit for the class.

stuck worrying about how my grades look in comparison to everyone else in my classes.

stuck stressing over the fact that i am not worthy enough to my parents because my level of intellectuality just isn't high enough for them.

stuck stressing over how i don't know what my friends think of me and whether or not they actually hate me even in the slightest.

i've conditioned myself to worry

about the absolute wrong things.

i despise that humans are identified based on their intelligible intellectualism rather than the amount of knowledge they've gained by simply living.

we all live in a world where, for some reason, numbers matter more than the youth's, young adult's, adult's mental and emotional health.

everyone is so worried about how much money they have because that's what they need to survive.

we need money in order to have that false sense of security.

money.

it's all we care about.

but in order to get that money, we must go through the hells and stresses and anxieties and depression episodes that is known as

the american educational system.

why must i worry about the letter grades when i could worry about the fact that people are dying.

that this planet of ours is dying.

that we don't know enough about the universe to even deem it as safe.

i and many others have this weight of over achieving expectations and responsibilities.

i have to do good in school or else i'll be seen as a failure.

i have to get straight A's or my parents will be disappointed in me.

i have to get a high education or else i won't be eligible for college.

and if i don't go to college, i don't have a degree and i don't get a job and i have no money and i will eventually die off as no one.

i'd absolutely hate to die knowing i stressed over some ******* letter and number grades when i could've explored my purpose and my meaning for living and why i drive myself to continue living.

yet, i will be too old to discover those things because i decided to dedicate all of my precious time to anxiety attacks and depression episodes because i failed several tests.

why must i and many people worry about this heavy weight on our shoulders.

why must this weight be so awfully heavy.
this was inspired by a conversation my friend and i had last night about how we stress about the wrong things and how we, as humans, are identified by the wrong values.
matcha May 2018
want.

it's a feeling and a sense.
everyone wants something or someone.

what do i want?

i want
to hold your hand.

i want
to kiss your knuckles.

i want
to tell you how gorgeous you are.

i want
to see the crinkles at the corner of your eyes when you smile.

i want
your breath to tickle my neck ever so slightly as you rest.

i want
to run my fingers through your hair gently.

i want
to hear your wondrous laugh.

i want
your cushioned lips on my skin.

i want
your simple presence.

i want
i want
i want
i want

i want these mild thoughts to go away.

they taunt me everyday for reasons unknown.

for reasons that i'd like to know.

but i don't.

so, i'm stuck in a constant state of confusion and frustration.

i'm stuck because i never bother to tame these thoughts.

i'm stuck because i choose to wait rather than do.

it's just too mild.

too mild for my cringing heart.
idk what this is, but it's just soft things.
matcha Nov 2019
I told myself we wouldn't

change

afterwards.
After the break.
After it ended.
After the relationship.

You probably told yourself the same thing.
Feeding yourself the mantra of

"We'll be friends now.
Eventually, it'll go back to how it was.
We'll be back to normal."

Well, did it?

I thought so.

I don't know how you think.
I don't know your mindset.
I don't know your values.

What I do know
is that you missed how we
used to talk.

The way you said it two nights ago on the phone.

"We don't talk like we used to anymore."

Me, being too caught in the moment, asked

"Why?"

You answered

"It was nice."

You could've said something.
Made the effort to go back to how we used to.
Maybe even ask me if we could
go back to "normal".

Why didn't you bother?
You can't expect me to
initiate
everything, you know?
If you thought it was so "nice"
you could've put effort into it.

I knew you were dumb,
but I didn't think you were stupid.

But if you really missed it
if you thought it was so "nice"
if you missed how refreshing it was to
hear us talk
like how we used to

Call me.
Text me.
Talk to me.

Whatever it is
I'm right here.

There's no need to hesitate.
You know I'll answer when I can.
You know I'll talk to you about anything.
You know I'll answer your questions.

I'll be right here.

We can talk like friends.
We can laugh like friends.
We can rant like friends.
We can cry like friends.

I'm just a couple texts away.
I'm just a call away.
I'm just a talk away.

I'm right here.
idk i was listening to Right Here by Keshi and kinda wanted to do a poem based off of the song. though, the poem isn't entirely based off of the song, it's more so inspired by the song.
matcha Apr 2018
i never had the chance to say goodbye.
i didn't even know she was going to leave
leave me here to deal with her problems.
it seemed selfish at the moment
incompetent
rude.
i couldn't understand the reason she left like this.
i couldn't comprehend it; i was frustrated.
why?
why'd she have to go without a word? why'd she leave as if to think i'd be okay with this?
it always brings me to tears just trying to remember her when
i can't.
i can't remember how she smiled
how she laughed
how she talked
how she used to be
before she became me.
the me i am now, today, and forever more.
the me that was influenced by those who are insufferable.
a selfish, ugly, good for nothing ******* who can barely hold herself together.
i want her to come back.
i want to be happy again.
but what's the point of wanting something that has already ceased to exist?
just my first poem and obviously it's full of teen angst haha
matcha Nov 2019
it's quite

unfair

isn't it?

you're just used to this kind of thing already.

this isn't your first gig.

you've done this several times already.

you've liked someone before

you've flirted with someone before

you've been on dates before

you've kissed girls before

you've been with someone before

you've broken up with girls before

you've already done this before.

what about me?

this was my first gig and i can't help but


still think about it.


it's already been like

what?

almost

five months now

since we've happened.

how are you dealing with this?

knowing you

you've most likely already forgotten about it.

you're completely over it like you are with the other girls.

i can't say i hate you for it.

if anything, i commend you and i genuinely wish i could do

the same thing.

i'm still kinda stuck in limbo.

thinking about how you first kissed me in the movie theater.

it was dark

only the screen to illuminate us.

then you kissed me once

and asked for another afterwards.

you're a charmer, you know?

of course you do, your ego reminds you everyday.

maybe i should hate you because of that.

because of your overinflated ego.

but i can't.

i really can't.

why can't i?

i say i'm over it, but i'm here writing about it.

if only you broke up with me for something else.

something i could despise you for and instantly forget that


we


ever happened.

but that didn't happen.

you broke up with me for something reasonable.

and until now, you continue to stay with me and support me in my endeavors

and i tend to do the same.

like i owe it to you or something.

i do.

you've helped me through so much.

i just wish i could forget that

we

were ever really a thing.

it's revolting to just

constantly

be bombarded with the past

while you get to act like it never happened.

you're good at this, aren't you?

you've mastered

moving on.

while i'm left to deal with the remnants of something

that has long happened.

it's really just

unfair.
angsty angsty past relationships here we are lol
i just needed something to write about bc i haven't actually written here in a while wow.
matcha Apr 2018
i first felt confused.
everything seemed to slip between my fingers
were they even my fingers?
now i was completely terrified.
this sense that everything was foreign like i've never seen these surrounding in my entire lifetime.
i didn't
couldn't feel myself.
my
it
those fingers.
i saw them move as fingers do, but they didn't seem like my hands, my fingers, my flushed palms.
it felt surreal.
even the people i knew seemed unknown to my eyes.
it gave me this churn in my stomach.
a churn that screamed "danger".
but why?
don't i know these people?
i should know how they act
how they talk
how they walk
how they move.
but when i saw them talk
when i studied how their lips formed around words
i heard nothing.
there was no familiarity in their voice and the words they spoke from their mind to their tongues.
it sounded
like static.
like white noise.
the nothingness that's heard in a room of complete silence.
i felt like white noise.
that fuzziness; the pins and needles kind when you haven't moved in hours.
i could've brushed it off.
maybe tried to refocus my brain into thinking that
"yes. all of this is familiar. don't be so dumb."
but i couldn't.
all i felt was bile in my throat as i internalized my imminent panic.
it was settling there in the pit of my stomach all because
i couldn't recognize my own voice.
i couldn't recognize their faces.
i couldn't recognize where i was nor could i recognize why i was there in the first place.
what was my purpose?
why do i wake up, go to school, come home, sleep.
why do i do these things that give me little to no substance in my life?
this regular schedule
of constance.
that's what caused this white noise.
the white noise that pressed anxiety and stress into my chest
making it heavier
making it harder to breath
making it worse.
i hated it.
but i couldn't do anything about it.
this white noise.
oh, how much i despised the thing.
but
all i can do is revel in the moment until it passes.

— The End —