I like to write when my heart hurts
It just feels better like poking at a wound waiting for it to bleed

I often said that I don’t epitomize you I see you for what you really are
And I’ve always believed that people have the potential to hurt me
And yet I let you in
I let you unwind my insides and stain my being
and here you are

Reminding me of him
The him that manipulated me that forced me to lose myself the me that untangled my thoughts and used it as a noose to keep me on a short leash

You’re making me beg for love
You’re making me break
Stop breaking me
I want to touch your cheeks and feel your kindness
Are you possessed ? Should we call and exosist to remove this sadness to remove this ugly person that is withdrawn and lacks excitement
I want my rayhaan back
The one that holds me and tells me I’m enough
Not the one who pushes me to the ledge and makes me feel like I need to fight to be seen
I’m sad to write this today
Because I could never write about you before
Because you never hurt my heart

I’m scared now
But time will tell
Maybe all love turns ugly with time
Maybe I make people ugly
Maybe I deserve the harshness
Maybe I am just not enough.

The above talks about my vulnerability
It’s strange how they’re starting to arise
Because I feel myself telling my brain I told you so
You’re so dumb
Everyone knew this would come
Why didn’t you listen
You should have just believed that’s no matter what rules you put and how hard you try
Everyone fails at marriage
Or maybe it’s hereditary
Maybe it’s woman in this family
Maybe we possess a switch that turns men off
From loving us
Or maybe we’re excited by the trauma of love
Maybe we can’t accept the kindness of it all

And maybe we’re all just destined to unhappiness
For all the ugly sins we commit

Hi I’m writing this addressed to my followers but I’m addressing it to myself because my internal processing has had a bit of a jam recently and I’d like to live up the machinery and hope that the thoughts flow, the feelings flow, I flow .

Mental illness can be as extreme as cancer where it devours your entire body and makes you lay in bed all day not wanting to eat or speak to people or just be awake because the suffering feels too overwhelming.

Or it can be like a small little bump on your head it can hurt you’ll cry but you can go through the day until you are reminded of the pain of the little bump
Both are valid and both hurt

I have an emotional matrurity and understanding beyond many my age and this allows my brain to work at a faster pace ( this doesn’t mean I’m a smarty pants ) but I see things and I over analyze everything and I make issues where there aren’t none just to feed the cancer because it feeds me . I twist words and hurt people that are good to me because I don’t feel good enough for them .
Baby I’m talking about you sometimes I don’t feel enough for you. You do so much and I feel inadequate to anything you do .
And I feel like your mum knows it too .
And it’s not your fault or hers it’s mine. It’s mine for being weak and not believing that I’m worthy of such a pure strong love.
I miss you and I miss myself
I feel like I’m fading in my head . There’s a spaceship going somewhere away from here and I want to jump on.

Why can’t people choose me over the things that harm them
Yummy chooses him and it hurts my heart he always chooses drugs and that hurts her

I hurt you baby because you are good and I’m not used to good I’m used to being pushed to the side
You see me and that scares me
Thank you for looking after me
My cheeks are wet now , come play on my surface come dance on me
Feel exotic I’ll touch you back but just a tease because we both know I’m a little jacked up in the department of giving
I can’t give myself to you to touch maybe it’s too vulnerable
Let me dance for you
Naked.
Let me feel how you feel in the most divine way
Let’s become one body.
Stop it hurts
I’m selfish
I want to be alone
Leave me alone
Nothing
Go.
I don’t deserve you
I’m awful
I need to get better before I lose myself and you can’t find me
Run in the cancer
I’ll spread to you

Poets I am calling out to you?
I have a question?
Do you gain exhaustion after you write after months of bottling ink inside you?

Does it feel like a sort of tired pleasure ? A sort of burst from your inside , leaving you so drained but so pleased ?
Like an organism dripping from your soul? Does expression make you wet?