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#billieeilish
Don’t be that way. I say it to myself in the mirror, softly, like I’m handling something already cracked. I fall apart twice a day, not dramatically, just enough to notice. Just enough to keep going. I wish I could feel what I say before I say it, because my words always land after the damage is done. I call it honesty. It’s really just harm with better grammar. Show, never tell. So I show it. In the way my shoulders sink. In the way I stop expecting things. I know myself too well. I know which moods will pass and which ones move in. If tears could be bottled, mine wouldn’t be glamorous. No pools. No models. Just small, sealed containers hidden in drawers no one ever opens. I learned early that something about me is always wrong. If it’s not my clothes, it’s my body. If it’s not my body, it’s my silence. If it’s not my silence, it’s the fact that I noticed. If “I love you” were a promise, I don’t know if I’d keep it. Not because I don’t mean it, but because I disappear when things start to matter. I tell the mirror what she already knows: I leave myself every time it hurts. I don’t want to be you anymore. I don’t want to wake up already tired of being alive. My hands are cold. They always are. Like they’ve been holding something too long and forgot what warmth feels like. Losing feeling isn’t scary anymore. It’s familiar. It’s quiet. Was I made from a broken mold, or did I just learn how to break gently, without making a sound? I’m hurt in ways I can’t explain. I’ve made every mistake, and I carry them like proof that this is what I deserve. Only I know exactly how I fall apart— which thought to follow, which memory to touch, which sentence to repeat until it starts to feel true. If tears could be bottled, I wouldn’t sell them. I’d line them up on the floor and sit there, counting all the times I survived without ever feeling okay. So I look at myself and say nothing. Because sometimes silence is the only thing honest enough. I don’t want to be you. Not like this. I don’t want to be you. I don’t want to be you anymore.
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Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 4:52 PM UTC
idontwannabeyouanymore as a poem
Don’t be that way. I say it to myself in the mirror, softly, like I’m handling something already cracked. I fall apart twice a day, not dramatically, just enough to notice. Just enough to keep going. I wish I could feel what I say before I say it, because my words always land after the damage is done. I call it honesty. It’s really just harm with better grammar. Show, never tell. So I show it. In the way my shoulders sink. In the way I stop expecting things. I know myself too well. I know which moods will pass and which ones move in. If tears could be bottled, mine wouldn’t be glamorous. No pools. No models. Just small, sealed containers hidden in drawers no one ever opens. I learned early that something about me is always wrong. If it’s not my clothes, it’s my body. If it’s not my body, it’s my silence. If it’s not my silence, it’s the fact that I noticed. If “I love you” were a promise, I don’t know if I’d keep it. Not because I don’t mean it, but because I disappear when things start to matter. I tell the mirror what she already knows: I leave myself every time it hurts. I don’t want to be you anymore. I don’t want to wake up already tired of being alive. My hands are cold. They always are. Like they’ve been holding something too long and forgot what warmth feels like. Losing feeling isn’t scary anymore. It’s familiar. It’s quiet. Was I made from a broken mold, or did I just learn how to break gently, without making a sound? I’m hurt in ways I can’t explain. I’ve made every mistake, and I carry them like proof that this is what I deserve. Only I know exactly how I fall apart— which thought to follow, which memory to touch, which sentence to repeat until it starts to feel true. If tears could be bottled, I wouldn’t sell them. I’d line them up on the floor and sit there, counting all the times I survived without ever feeling okay. So I look at myself and say nothing. Because sometimes silence is the only thing honest enough. I don’t want to be you. Not like this. I don’t want to be you. I don’t want to be you anymore.
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I perceive Cadillac contempt Justin perhaps the test tune Evil allowance Corvette describe Slow join abundance miracle The deprivation comrade Sinuette flyer abbreviation team Too much for Scorn born of Ire Moon gander wand have not Fulcram vanity hazelnut tree paths Wisp furrow Suffer as contemplation Illusory pond Atlantic vines anul Eden Idiom pillar'd in turns roman Verse 1 Kendall Love Vision template Frank speaks "I wanna be like I still love you" Frank taste his native leaf, that's all Now vape and coffee origin Lara from frank Lull la runners rain Everything is everything La la la la la Wherever She's Cot Boy me Chalkboard girl poems that
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Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 3:06 PM UTC
State the Street Thousand Oaks
Early Rise     "All right"          Seasons              The give Natures recital        Towards grieve              As strange fruit       Cities The grapple       Played our charades              Pairs the well in paul sheridan 14h Untitled when I saw her I fancied her and thirty odd years later after we married I still do and ****** hell woman I still fancy you Absolutely right that's happening to you My piza has flat screen     Cold lend over half tower From last night's waltz alone Black cap pvris cover California sunrises blah Ratsos recording shifts Hold on kettle Cream warmth bites no toast Under lift no pat Compression comprehension Staying in reasons With books Toni Braxton     Alicia Keys Nick Cannon    Walking my baby back home 9 minutes without breakfast in one Her abandoned ballet returns Cuba in remorse Dedicated to Yvette Garcia Dedicated to Yvette Garcia #mileycyrus #taragendron #jennahaze #taylorswift #tonibraxton #parisjackson #nickcannon #pvris #fontainesband Chalkboard Girl poem grief
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Aug 17, 2025
Aug 17, 2025 at 10:59 AM UTC
Cold kettle gives
the concessions in past lives of dusks and ****** mess the contorted skull left alone where we grip off that chicks haste to run into rain again my jackets all time the fold of ireland grows, it grows taken care of the nother place you jumped on
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Apr 12, 2025
Apr 12, 2025 at 2:55 PM UTC
lets get to the fist
I am listening to Billie drop her new album, Curious to hear, indie, pop or chill, vulnerable? Or will it be just another wannabe? And as I ponder, my focus wanders to the bird calls outside my window, they are spectacular, unique and peppery, shrill and squawky and a soft melody. How can humans compare?!
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Oct 18, 2024
Oct 18, 2024 at 9:31 PM UTC
I wish I knew bird chirrup
I Don't Love You- Song by MCR I Love You- Song by Billie Eilish All the good girls go to heaven-Lyrics from the song This Is How I Disappear by MCR All The Good Girls Go To Hell- Song by Billie Eilish
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Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 6:18 PM UTC
I found a couple more things to connect Billie Eilish and Frank Iero/MCR
I feel like Billie is HEAVILY inspired by MCR and Frank Iero. Examples: Stomachaches = Album by Frank Iero Bellyache = Song by Billie Eilish "I'm Not Okay" = Lyrics/Song by MCR "I'm not okay" = Lyrics from the song 'Listen Before I Go' by Billie Eilish "I'm Okay" = Lyrics from the song 'I'm Not Okay' by MCR "I'm Okay" = Lyrics from 'You Should See Me In A Crown' by Billie Eilish Six Feet Down Under = Song by Frank Iero Six Feet Under = Song by Billie Eilish Don't you think so too?
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Oct 22, 2021
Oct 22, 2021 at 10:49 AM UTC
Billie Eilish And MCR/Frank Iero
stay, i think as they all say their goodbyes stay, i think saying it would be unwise stay, i say and then want to vaporize in a room full of people, you're the one i recognize stay, you don't and a part of me dies
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Jul 15, 2020
Jul 15, 2020 at 12:29 AM UTC
stay
no matter what or how i think i think a part of me is broken. i feel like something is pressing my heart. it feels so frustrating, and it makes me sad. what should i do?
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Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 10:55 AM UTC
i think i'm sick,
Deberia saber Que me dejaras No mas para que ves Te la estas buscando Hacimos pareja Pero te vi alla Mucho para aguantar Tu eras mi vida Pero la vida no es justo Era estupida para amar te? Era tonta ayudar te? Era ovio a todo lo de mas? Me calli por tu mentira Tu nunca me querias Engañame una y doz veces Voy a morir en un paradiso Tu nunca me vas a ver llorar No hay tiempo a morir Lo deje quemar Tu no eres mi preocupacion Fantasmas de mi pasado regresan Otro leccion para aprender Tu nunca me vas a ver llorar No hay tiempo a morir © Sofia Villagrana 2020
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Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
No Hay Tiempo Paro Morir
I just listened to; 6 broadway shows, 2× When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? And I read a whole book (Harry Potter 6) I'm not ok
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Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 3:33 AM UTC
Note 134:
I'm not trying to save us anymore          I'm done thinking we might just spark enough ..
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Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 1:45 PM UTC
Just an "almost"