#amelia
She laughs, seemingly carefree,
but the endless worries pick at her from the inside.
Many say that she is perfect
But none see the storm in her mind.
"She's so smart."
"So pretty."
"So athletic."
"So carefree."
"So talented."
But none see the quiet torture
that shaped the girl they call perfect.
"I wish I were like her."
But she wishes she were like you,
wanting everything,
instead of having to be everything.
The undermining pressure eats at her daily,
clawing its way up until it eats her whole.
Lingering dark thoughts stab at her constantly,
But the fake happiness overtakes her when the sun arises.
Many see her as cheerful,
mistaking practised laughter for joy.
No one sees the effort that she puts in,
constantly placing her on a pedestal,
worshipping perfection
as though she were untouchable.
But she, too, is human
thinks human,
and acts human,
a human,
waiting to be understood.
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 8:13 AM UTC
i wrote this to tell you all the things you'll never get to know about me
you will never get to know what i taste like with all 90 days under my belt
you'll never get to know how i handle the anniversary of my mother's death
or what watching my father die does to me
you'll never get to see me bailing my little brother out of jail
or find out about how i don't smile the same way anymore after serving two years inside
you'll never see me on my wedding day
and you will never hear me tell you "i do" or that i love you
or hear me announce that my wife is pregnant
and you'll certainly never get to meet my baby girl and she'll have eyes just like her mama
you will never hear me come home from work when we're in our late thirties and i always have a good reason to bring flowers
you won't ever find out what my favorite song is when i'm mowing the lawn out back
and you won't be there when i decide to press charges on the man that hurt me
my point is
you're gone.
and honestly, you might not care. you might not ever even think of me again.
but you will never get to know me.
and for that i am thankful
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 6:02 AM UTC
-she's autumn
(and that's my favorite season)
always a little red in the face,
and that's my favorite color
(especially on her)
-i like her because she's all early september
(which means staying in bed until after 10)
-and she always holds me when i feel like i'm falling apart
(which is often)
-she kisses like 4th of july
(which means HARD)
and my ears are still ringing
(which means i can't think about anything else)
-she's all firecrackers and campfires
(i can still smell her on my clothes in the morning)
-she's the reason i'm trying so hard
(which is to say)
i love you
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC
The last time we met it was raining
and the stampede of raindrops on the roof
must have made it hard for you to hear.
I had wanted to tell you about my mother
how I wasn’t yet five feet tall
when she was six feet under.
Lover, listen.
Incurable illnesses cannot recognize
the plumpness of an over ripe nectarine
from the plumpness of a woman’s breast.
And the last time we met I don’t think you heard me say
that my name is Amelia
because you kept moaning Sarah.
Now, lover.
I understand the impossibility of moving on
but I’ve run out of excuses to make.
There’s no Lauren or Patrice
just me in these sheets.
Lover, please.
Pick me.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 1:42 AM UTC