#bojackhorseman - Hello Poetry

The weak breeze whispers nothing the water screams sublime. His feet shift, teeter-totter deep breaths, stand back, it’s time. Toes untouch the overpass soon he’s water-bound. Eyes locked shut but peek to see the view from halfway down. A little wind, a summer sun a river rich and regal. A flood of fond endorphins brings a calm that knows no equal. You’re flying now, you see things much more clear than from the ground. It's all okay, or it would be were you not now halfway down. Thrash to break from gravity what now could slow the drop? All I’d give for toes to touch the safety back at top. But this is it, the deed is done silence drowns the sound. Before I leaped I should've seen the view from halfway down. I really should’ve thought about the view from halfway down. I wish I could've known about the view from halfway down—

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Apr 6, 2025

Apr 6, 2025 at 11:18 PM UTC

_moonbeam

The View From Halfway Down- from bojack horseman

The weak breeze whispers nothing the water screams sublime. His feet shift, teeter-totter deep breaths, stand back, it’s time. Toes untouch the overpass soon he’s water-bound. Eyes locked shut but peek to see the view from halfway down. A little wind, a summer sun a river rich and regal. A flood of fond endorphins brings a calm that knows no equal. You’re flying now, you see things much more clear than from the ground. It's all okay, or it would be were you not now halfway down. Thrash to break from gravity what now could slow the drop? All I’d give for toes to touch the safety back at top. But this is it, the deed is done silence drowns the sound. Before I leaped I should've seen the view from halfway down. I really should’ve thought about the view from halfway down. I wish I could've known about the view from halfway down—

28

I know not what I am Nor why I’m here Or where I’m supposed to be. I think of all the things I could be, things I should be Like staring into an abyss. I could.. Fly, be happy, have love All these staring back at me I should.. Make a life, grow up, get old But they too lie in the abyss The freedom to pick either. To be what one could be, To be what one should be Freedom presents anxiety Anxiety creates dizziness Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom The abyss stares back The thickening blackness Swallowing me slowly Promising me The view from halfway down The peace behind the dark Entering the door Leading me into the future No promises The blackness rolls over I wake up watching Seeing me, an empty head A last torment The blackness waiting to guide me Leaving me to watch

0

Jan 19, 2021

Jan 19, 2021 at 10:19 AM UTC

AntiEyepatch

"I think Therefore I Am"

I know not what I am Nor why I’m here Or where I’m supposed to be. I think of all the things I could be, things I should be Like staring into an abyss. I could.. Fly, be happy, have love All these staring back at me I should.. Make a life, grow up, get old But they too lie in the abyss The freedom to pick either. To be what one could be, To be what one should be Freedom presents anxiety Anxiety creates dizziness Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom The abyss stares back The thickening blackness Swallowing me slowly Promising me The view from halfway down The peace behind the dark Entering the door Leading me into the future No promises The blackness rolls over I wake up watching Seeing me, an empty head A last torment The blackness waiting to guide me Leaving me to watch

33

[ ] i am Diane Nguyen [ ] when the lights are off and the room's too quiet. [ ] when i start spiraling over nothing, [ ] but pretend i’m just tired. [ ] when i swallow the urge to say, “i’m not okay,” [ ] because i don’t want to ruin the vibe. [ ] i get her. [ ] she writes things she’ll never publish [ ] and calls it healing. [ ] me too. [ ] i am Flame Princess. [ ] masking my heat with forced politeness, [ ] but the fire kicks at the cracks in my voice. [ ] i was taught too young that my feelings were too much [ ] so i bottled them. [ ] and when the bottle breaks, [ ] i’m the villain. [ ] one day you’ll get it [ ] that’s never who i was. [ ] i’m just a girl who’s overstimulated, [ ] trying not to combust. [ ] trying to regulate in an unadjusted world. [ ] i am Kirk Gleason, [ ] Full of chaotic side character energy. [ ] i tell stories with weirdly specific details [ ] so no one notices i’m actually unraveling. [ ] being silly is easier than being seen. [ ] i make people laugh so noone ever stops to ask [ ] The dreaded "are you okay" [ ] I make people laugh because if they’re laughing, [ ] they’ll stay. [ ] I am Jake the Dog, [ ] soft and simple. [ ] i love hard and think deep. [ ] i hold onto weird metaphors [ ] about cups and pillow forts [ ] I tell myself not to get hung up on imaginary things [ ] because that’s how i understand the world. [ ] i just wanna chill, [ ] but my brain won’t always let me. [ ] yet still I try, cause to love life you need problems [ ] And i am determined to live to my to its fullest [ ] i am Ted Mosby, [ ] annoyingly romantic. [ ] the kind who falls in love in soft, slow ways [ ] not with only with grand gestures, but with quiet familiarity. [ ] The type to romanticise shared eyecontact and exchanged looks [ ] i write poems about people [ ] who don’t know they broke my heart. [ ] Though i still think love is worth the mess [ ] Even when i doubt myself i always know [ ] Loving someone is never a waste [ ] and i’m Periwinkle. [ ] the soft, sparkly part of me i locked in a box [ ] when life got loud. [ ] When life didn't understand I was only a child [ ] i still believe in her. [ ] i still believes she's there. [ ] The little kid, with not so little dreams [ ] she danced in the frost and thought the world was kind. [ ] she’s quiet now, [ ] Her sparkle not so bright [ ] but she’s not gone, just dimmed [ ] she still hides in old drawings and weird dreams like buried sea glass on a beach [ ] i’m not all these people all the time. [ ] but they live in me [ ] in the sighs i swallow, [ ] in the jokes i tell too loud, [ ] in the poems no one reads. [ ] i wear them like second hand hoodies, [ ] hoping one won’t smell too much like someone else. [ ] some days i throw them all on at once, [ ] just to feel something that fits. [ ] some days i stare at the pile [ ] and don’t even bother. [ ] i just want someone to notice [ ] without me having to ask. [ ] someone to say, [ ] “i see you , even the parts you hide.” [ ] until then, [ ] Ill keep hiding my true self, [ ] Untill I'm truly seen [ ] Piecing myself together with glitter glue and stubborn hope, [ ] soft rage and borrowed words. [ ] and maybe i’m still becoming. [ ] and maybe that’s okay.

0

Apr 30, 2025

Apr 30, 2025 at 11:13 AM UTC

_moonbeam

All the people i am

[ ] i am Diane Nguyen [ ] when the lights are off and the room's too quiet. [ ] when i start spiraling over nothing, [ ] but pretend i’m just tired. [ ] when i swallow the urge to say, “i’m not okay,” [ ] because i don’t want to ruin the vibe. [ ] i get her. [ ] she writes things she’ll never publish [ ] and calls it healing. [ ] me too. [ ] i am Flame Princess. [ ] masking my heat with forced politeness, [ ] but the fire kicks at the cracks in my voice. [ ] i was taught too young that my feelings were too much [ ] so i bottled them. [ ] and when the bottle breaks, [ ] i’m the villain. [ ] one day you’ll get it [ ] that’s never who i was. [ ] i’m just a girl who’s overstimulated, [ ] trying not to combust. [ ] trying to regulate in an unadjusted world. [ ] i am Kirk Gleason, [ ] Full of chaotic side character energy. [ ] i tell stories with weirdly specific details [ ] so no one notices i’m actually unraveling. [ ] being silly is easier than being seen. [ ] i make people laugh so noone ever stops to ask [ ] The dreaded "are you okay" [ ] I make people laugh because if they’re laughing, [ ] they’ll stay. [ ] I am Jake the Dog, [ ] soft and simple. [ ] i love hard and think deep. [ ] i hold onto weird metaphors [ ] about cups and pillow forts [ ] I tell myself not to get hung up on imaginary things [ ] because that’s how i understand the world. [ ] i just wanna chill, [ ] but my brain won’t always let me. [ ] yet still I try, cause to love life you need problems [ ] And i am determined to live to my to its fullest [ ] i am Ted Mosby, [ ] annoyingly romantic. [ ] the kind who falls in love in soft, slow ways [ ] not with only with grand gestures, but with quiet familiarity. [ ] The type to romanticise shared eyecontact and exchanged looks [ ] i write poems about people [ ] who don’t know they broke my heart. [ ] Though i still think love is worth the mess [ ] Even when i doubt myself i always know [ ] Loving someone is never a waste [ ] and i’m Periwinkle. [ ] the soft, sparkly part of me i locked in a box [ ] when life got loud. [ ] When life didn't understand I was only a child [ ] i still believe in her. [ ] i still believes she's there. [ ] The little kid, with not so little dreams [ ] she danced in the frost and thought the world was kind. [ ] she’s quiet now, [ ] Her sparkle not so bright [ ] but she’s not gone, just dimmed [ ] she still hides in old drawings and weird dreams like buried sea glass on a beach [ ] i’m not all these people all the time. [ ] but they live in me [ ] in the sighs i swallow, [ ] in the jokes i tell too loud, [ ] in the poems no one reads. [ ] i wear them like second hand hoodies, [ ] hoping one won’t smell too much like someone else. [ ] some days i throw them all on at once, [ ] just to feel something that fits. [ ] some days i stare at the pile [ ] and don’t even bother. [ ] i just want someone to notice [ ] without me having to ask. [ ] someone to say, [ ] “i see you , even the parts you hide.” [ ] until then, [ ] Ill keep hiding my true self, [ ] Untill I'm truly seen [ ] Piecing myself together with glitter glue and stubborn hope, [ ] soft rage and borrowed words. [ ] and maybe i’m still becoming. [ ] and maybe that’s okay.

86

They say the fear kicks in halfway down. The breath you didn’t think you wanted comes clawing up your throat, the ground becomes too real, and life— suddenly, violently— feels too short to leave behind. They say that’s when it hits you. That bolt of regret. That desperate gasp. That scream your mind makes when your body is already committed. But what if mine never comes? What if I’ve stood on this ledge so long the fall feels like flying? What if I’ve rehearsed the silence so often that even the rush of air couldn’t pull a heartbeat from this chest? They say halfway down is a revelation— but my eyes stay shut. My fists stay unclenched. My lungs stay quiet. I watch that horse fall again and again— a warning dressed as poetry. That moment where everything becomes too real, too late. And I wish it scared me. But it doesn’t. Because I don’t believe I’d feel that panic. I don’t believe my hands would reach back. I don’t believe regret would bloom like they say. Because I’ve already fallen— so many times, without ever leaving the ground. And maybe that’s worse. To still be standing and already halfway gone. To look at life through the lens of a last moment and feel nothing. Because if there’s a view from halfway down, I’ve been staring at it for years— and it never blinked. And neither did I—

0

Jul 8, 2025

Jul 8, 2025 at 10:50 AM UTC

wheremysilencespeaks

The Moment I Don’t Believe In

They say the fear kicks in halfway down. The breath you didn’t think you wanted comes clawing up your throat, the ground becomes too real, and life— suddenly, violently— feels too short to leave behind. They say that’s when it hits you. That bolt of regret. That desperate gasp. That scream your mind makes when your body is already committed. But what if mine never comes? What if I’ve stood on this ledge so long the fall feels like flying? What if I’ve rehearsed the silence so often that even the rush of air couldn’t pull a heartbeat from this chest? They say halfway down is a revelation— but my eyes stay shut. My fists stay unclenched. My lungs stay quiet. I watch that horse fall again and again— a warning dressed as poetry. That moment where everything becomes too real, too late. And I wish it scared me. But it doesn’t. Because I don’t believe I’d feel that panic. I don’t believe my hands would reach back. I don’t believe regret would bloom like they say. Because I’ve already fallen— so many times, without ever leaving the ground. And maybe that’s worse. To still be standing and already halfway gone. To look at life through the lens of a last moment and feel nothing. Because if there’s a view from halfway down, I’ve been staring at it for years— and it never blinked. And neither did I—

57