if you really loved me
you wouldn't do this to me
you wouldn't throw all this weight
on my shoulders
when you know that
what I already carry
is heavy enough

I have this really amazing friend,
Her name is Radha.
She's great, she deserves the world ♡
She once witnessed me in pain
And she said to me,
"Fairy, get a pen and a book and just start writing.
Anything that bothers you.
Anything you wanna talk about but can't find words to say.
Anything you want out of you,
just write it..."

I admired her approach; it's really great!
'Cause I do write, and it does help...
It helps me to listen to myself clearly,
Without my brain jumbling up my thoughts,
And without my heart shaking in my chest.
But what if she knew,
About the things I write about...
About the things that I constantly think about,
About the things I dream about,
The things I ache about?
What if she knew,
**** even the things that I laugh about,
About the things I can't say out loud,
About the things I burden this site about..?
What if she knew?

-fir.m

beauty is a terrible force of nature,
terrible in its wrath for the heart that loves it,  
terrible in its burden to the heart that carries it,
terrible to the heart that beholds it and cannot embrace it...

beauty is adoration of all lovely thoughts and hopes,
beauty is adoration of all that is found and lost again in the heart,
beauty is adoration of the sweetest dreams that we wish we could never wake from...

Beauty speaks to you in a silent lust for what cannot ever be yours alone,
Beauty speaks of all the lives one could live in such a sweet natural place,
beauty speaks of how it can never be happy because so many fear it

i often compare myself to a backpack
a really heavy backpack, that's hard to carry
for that's how i feel that my friends think of me
just another burden to carry around

how do you get rid of heavy backpacks?
well you can't just throw the whole thing away, you take things out slowly
that's what they did, ripping parts of me away
until i was left numb, with barely anything left in me

people end up throwing unwanted backpacks away sometimes
they'll either donate it or straight up dispose of it in the trash
just like they'll send me away, in hopes of never seeing me again
or they'll straight up abandon me, like most have done anyways

i'm so sick of being the unwanted backpack.

Flash of a camera goes off and I rush into the shadows, because the picture will look all wrong if I am in it.
Conversations circle my head aimlessly, all connected by a single thread that has slipped from my grasp.
A game of cards that I watch from the sidelines.
Memories are made in front of me and I cannot have a slice of them—they are not mine.
I was there, but they are not mine.
Because you smile when I wave
and I laugh at jokes that I don’t fully understand
and we complain, compliment, communicate,
but you are a stranger to me.
I am a stranger to you.
You, polished jade stone in vicious waters,
yet the waves yield to you
and your iridescence
and all of your beautiful stone companions. I am a pebble who gets caught
in the tide, too desolate to swim back to shore, too afraid to join you in the deep.
I cannot stop fighting the current.
There is no hope for me if I do,
for I will sink, settle on the sandy floor with my back arched and my hands shaking
and join my fellow forsaken, solidified into a gritty brick of aching bones and broken spirits.
I will no longer be your burden. I will be something you do not bother to look at twice.
You will float above me with nothing to haunt you.
But even as I am fighting the current all my life
I am still dissolving
bit by bit.
As though I am destined to fade away no matter how hard I try to stay.

Some people can't understand.
Some people don't understand yet.
And some people refuse to understand.
But just like it's not your job
to prove people wrong,
the burden doesn't fall on you
to make them understand.
Focus on the people who do support you
and understand.
Because you should never have to defend
how you live your life.