#failing
I promised myself this year would be different.
This summer I wouldn’t hide.
I won’t be ashamed of my scars anymore.
Guess what? Now it’s Worm , and I wear long sleeves, long skirts. I cover my scars along with all my pain, so my mother can’t see.
I am not what she wants me to be.
I am broken. I cut my own beauty away — just a picture of horror and shame, something that just shouldn’t be there.
I open up too much and too little.
I haven’t found the right way yet.
Either way, I can’t stand how you look at me when my arms are visible, like I am ugly, not how I used to be.
I am not the little girl you want to see.
I don’t even have something against my scars. They are there, so what?
But your words cut deep — deeper than any blade ever has. They leave a scar not visible on skin, but in my heart.
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 7:54 PM UTC
My saw doesn't work.
Hands shaking, I keep trying.
Forward
Back
Forward
Back
NOTHING!
I remain chained to this boulder
that's grown teeth and is watching
my foolish attempts at freedom.
Watching
and waiting
for the moment to
STRIKE,
make me fade out.
My fear is drowning in anger, though.
Anger that I'm chained to this boulder,
that I have no strength to free myself,
that everyone else is just walking by.
Don't they notice the woman
chained to the boulder??
But I make no sound,
burrowing deep into my head
as if there was an escape hatch there
instead of more boulders
that haven't grown as big yet.
"I can't do this" groans one.
"I'll never get better" coughs another.
Down the line,
miniatures of the granddaddy of them all -
"I've failed."
A shout as loud as a jet engine.
No hope. No help. No tears.
No point.
The chain around my neck pulls tighter.
Thoughts spill out,
like coffee on a white tablecloth.
"Everyone's stronger than I am.
More faith,
less baggage.
But what if we're all the same
and I'm just this pathetic excuse of a has-been?"
The chain tightens.
The scene around me spins
in Technicolor.
Everything starts to fade.
"I am a candle," I whisper
"I am light."
But the darkness laughs.
The teeth grow bigger
and bigger, as I see them closer
and closer until -
STOP!
"I'm wrong," I gasp.
"He is light, He is truth, He is the Way."
"I can do NOTHING without Him
And ALL THINGS through Him.
Even cut this chain."
As I reach for the saw,
The chain falls off my neck
And falls at my feet.
"I haven't failed," I whisper,
"I haven't failed."
For here is
Hope. Help. Tears.
The only Point I need...
Jesus.
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 1:42 AM UTC
in a humming voice
silent whispers
so the choice
of the note- it falters
a little melody -
screaming sounds
cry outside faintly
tricking sounds
a floating you
taunts me
quietly watching -
helping me
i know it’s fake
but it helps
me smile at the heaps
of failed compositions
it’s surely the next one
and you say yes
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 4:09 PM UTC
My history can be found in between heartbeats
In the red, pulsating rush that became patterns of jagged white lines...
But I can't tell you that.
Too many ears on what I say,
Too many eyes on what I do,
Until even the greatest palace I could live in
Turns into a d i r t y cardboard box under a bridge.
My world shrinks.
No freedom involved.
People's expectations k i l l.
I can't say I cut, I can't disappoint people,
So I say nothing.
But maybe somebody needed to know they weren't alone in facing this.
Maybe it was me.
I needed to hear I wasn't weak because of it —
I was human.
We all fall down.
Every. Single. One. Of. Us.
What matters is how we get back up,
But because of the shame,
Because of the stigma,
People who cut often don't reach out for help,
Often don't get back up.
I don't know if I can reach out for help.
Disappoint yet another set of watchful eyes
With the knowledge that I struggle.
But if I don't,
I might end up disappointing them
With the knowledge that I'm no longer here.
Apr 18
Apr 18, 2026 at 1:35 PM UTC
I’m seventeen,
moving from class to class
with a backpack full of “almost.”
Almost good enough grades.
Almost the right choices.
Almost the person everyone
wants me to be.
My parents sigh before they speak.
My teachers write comments like
has potential
as if potential is supposed to feel like praise
and not a reminder
that I’m not there yet.
Even my friends sometimes
look at me like I missed something—
like I didn’t say the right thing,
didn’t show up the right way,
didn’t get it right.
I try.
I really try.
But it feels like I’m always one step off,
one answer short,
one version of myself away
from being enough.
My grades are “okay,”
my effort is real,
but somehow I still feel like
I’m failing at life
in ways no report card shows.
I carry this quiet fear
that no matter how much I do,
someone will always be disappointed.
And after a while,
you start wondering
if the problem isn’t what you do—
but who you are.
Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 10:46 AM UTC
Please don’t get me wrong,
Like water in a dam
I too wish to be held
Your arms around my ribs
Let me leave oxygen behind and collapse
Into a semblance of safety poisoned
with Cortisol
I need you to understand — like water
I do not wish to be held back
Caught between your arms and the impossibilities
—Please don’t take this the wrong way
I wish to drown
Its not that I don’t like you
Because in a another life
I might have even been able to eat dinner
Without feeling like I had to throw up
At the sight of your touch on my plate
Don’t get it wrong
I understand that this goes against
The very nature of a parasite
To feel guilt
But I didn’t ask to be stuck
holding on to a dry branch
******* away at nothing
As it rots from the root
Its not that I don’t love you
Its just that
Every smile of yours
Looks like the curve of a dagger to me
And I keep waiting for the
Guillotine to fall
I keep waiting to be executed
For eating cake while
being infested with maggots
Its not that I like you
Its just that
I am surprised every time
You make my favorite food
Because I never expected you to
Remember my name
Apr 1
Apr 1, 2026 at 9:59 PM UTC
i text back in thirty seconds because
i'm scared of what one minute costs.
i've made myself the lighthouse for those who are
tired and lost.
i took an oath i never signed to be
the strongest one in the room.
i am the one who stays awake to
keep the monsters at the door.
but my sky is turning gray
and my cape drags the floor.
(it's hard to be superman when your bones are made of glass,
waiting for someone to notice that this "hero" is failing fast.)
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 5:22 PM UTC
a pattern of expectations kinks us all
saves us from skiving off
on an individual adventure
puddles us in our meddle
internalizes our mud
and curbs our imagination
- a mongered
holding pattern
and
not a happy one
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 9:25 PM UTC
losing a day here and there
a quick check of the calendar confirms
misspelling has never been so prolific
the oldering grey matter,
fogged clouds in the mind
pouring their rain, pouring down their rain.
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 5:22 AM UTC
Marks are high,
Teachers praise,
But, I can't help but look behind me at the stragglers.
Why do the teachers always check in on me?
What about the stragglers trying even when they have so many fails?
I find it unfair.
I begin to hate who I am.
The high marks.
They do not define me.
And I won't let them define me.
No, I won't.
Not my parents, not my teachers, nor my peers.
And then, slowly I fall from my academic high.
Oh, how painful it is to see so clearly what I lack.
But it remains out of reach.
And now, I find myself looking at my past.
Oh, how happy I was.
How innocent.
Always happy to see those 90s and 100s.
And now, look at them.
80s and 70s.
How much does 88 differ from 90?
"Not a lot," most would say.
But when you say, "How much does 88% differ from 90% on a test?"
The tune changes.
From normality to excellence.
A wide chasm that I can no longer cross.
But, I think a little harder.
Am I content with life?
Mostly.
Am I my own person?
Yes, I'm no longer the numbers in red on paper.
And so, I think I've won in my own way.
I've created my own path.
That's how I see it.
And if the parents and teachers are blind to it, let them.
I will walk my path happily.
For no longer do I have the heavy burdens on my shoulders.
I am happy.
Even if everyone is disappointed, I no longer care.
I have no burdens.
I am happy.
So, when they ask what happened to my academic excellence, I will ask them:
"Why should I carry such heavy burdens on my shoulders, when I am merely 13?"
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 3:27 PM UTC
I’m seventeen and tired in a way
sleep doesn’t fix.
My alarm goes off like an accusation,
and I drag myself to work
with a smile I don’t recognize
practiced in the bathroom mirror.
Customers ask how I’m doing.
I say “good”
because it’s easier than explaining
how heavy my chest feels
for no obvious reason.
School is worse.
Grades slip like they’re done trying,
numbers on a screen telling me
I’m failing at a future
I don’t even know how to want right now.
I stare at homework until the words blur,
then hate myself for not caring enough.
My parents nag—
Try harder.
Apply yourself.
You’re wasting your potential.
They don’t hear the part of me
that’s already screaming.
Every day feels the same,
a loop I can’t fast-forward—
work, school, disappointment, repeat.
No big breakdown,
no dramatic ending,
just this constant gray
that won’t lift, won’t break, won’t leave.
I keep going because I’m supposed to.
Because quitting would worry people.
Because stopping feels worse than surviving.
They say it gets better.
I’m waiting.
Still showing up.
Still breathing.
Still wondering how something invisible
can weigh this **** much
and never seem to end.
Jan 15
Jan 15, 2026 at 1:45 PM UTC
Everyone says I’m lucky.
Seventeen.
Whole life ahead of me like a hallway
with too many doors.
My grades are fine.
My parents aren’t yelling.
I’ve got friends, plans for Friday,
a phone that lights up when I check it.
Nothing’s wrong enough to complain about.
That’s what I tell myself
when my chest feels tight for no reason
in the middle of math class.
I laugh loud in the cafeteria.
I post like I’m supposed to.
I know all the right answers
except why I feel empty
when I’m not supposed to.
Adults say this is the best time.
No real problems yet.
But every night my thoughts get heavy,
like they’re trying to grow up faster than me.
I feel guilty for feeling bad.
Like I’m wasting something important.
Like happiness is a class
I’m skipping on purpose.
I don’t want anything terrible to happen.
I don’t want attention.
I just want to understand
why being okay feels so exhausting.
Everything’s good.
That’s the problem.
Because if this is fine,
why do I still feel like
I’m failing at being seventeen?
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 1:06 PM UTC
I keep dreaming
of the stars
I'm made of
of the skies
I look up to
of the minds
I've witnessed
and played with
and spoken to,
the ones I've touched
and regretted so.
Letting go
of time
and memories
that grew with me
like roots of trees
ducking all travesties
digging away at the soil.
I pluck them and forget them,
until ****
spews out the gaping hole
it left
that night
the night,
when I kept sweating
weeping
rolling
uncomfortably
in bed
the night
I tried
to keep you,
keep you close,
close to my heart.
Until I stopped dreaming
of what pained me the most;
my desire
to treasure you.
Nov 11, 2025
Nov 11, 2025 at 1:19 PM UTC
I want to believe
a bird is all a need
oh to be a bird
flying in the sky
dancing so high
but oh my
to be a bird
you must be strong
if I was a bird
it would go wrong
cause my wings would be weak
my voice would be peak
my mother would have left me
my father would have flee
my eyes to bad
to define who you are
are you the enemy?
a mouse or a rat?
oh but you're friendly
stabbing in my back
but here I fly
here I try
ouch
that was a tree
Oct 11, 2025
Oct 11, 2025 at 10:41 AM UTC
row, row —row the rock, roll it up the hill
fall, fall —fall, fall —it tumble down on me
row, row —row it up, responsibility.
oh no, oh no —I failed at it again.
i try, i try —I always try my best
oh no, oh no — it is never enough
Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 2:00 AM UTC
try to grow up.
fail on repeat.
the weight of wasted years
pushing down
"i will have it figured out by then."
fall back asleep.
friends move out.
i am behind.
laying in my room,
no boxes to pack.
dreams collect dust.
money flies away
over an unmade bed.
another job slips through my hands,
the walls close in
and time moves on.
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 2:46 AM UTC
I held myself to you,
Desperate to fit to your curves
And push myself into your gaps.
I hid at your center
When you were mostly edges,
Still filling in the spaces around you.
All your pieces jumbled and piled together
Waiting for you to dive into them
And fit each fragment along your lines
Piecing together your parts.
Each piece betraying me more.
Calling me out as an imposter
As I tried to hide my edges from you,
Carve off my corners and make me round.
Fearing as your shape emerged
You would realize I didn’t fit
Within your borders,
Discarding me for a piece that did.
And I i would see your puzzle
Complete
Without me.
Jun 3, 2025
Jun 3, 2025 at 3:45 PM UTC
sub standard, expect
wrong eyes and damaged
no checks
judged and jealous
at being the difference
you couldn't fill us
without my sanctity
i'd swallow
and until it bends
im the pillow
it bites and i learn to cry
hunting my own mountains
she will have learned saying goodbye's
goodbye's the way i see
one day i can learn to breath
hates the day i ran my mouth down
down to the inner city
then he went an gave up
drinking all the garbage
sips out of his ***** gulp's
freelancing ain't what you hear from
it's earth, sun
remember she aint your mum
call me out, outside into the ***** fields to run
Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 7:35 PM UTC
Her voice like a song
Running its fingertips through my hair
Ivory chords and wind blowing
Orange-coloured like that of dawn
Soft like a laugh and syrup
Her music isn’t just noises, and all along
It twists and dances like spells in the air
Emerald notes and feeling flowing
Blue-coloured like the sand and sea’s bond
Sweet like love as you try to keep up
She swings bright and long
Skipping in the sky with me, kind and fair
Quartz singing and so much heart showing
Violet-coloured like the rest of them, gone
Short like time we have, siphoned from our cup
But I’m a cacophony compared to her song
It’s all just noises and all along
I cry when I fall, harsh and long
I’m a cacophony when compared to her song
But I can’t hear the music playing in my hair
It’s angled and tripping over all of the air
I see what she sees, but it’s mean and not fair
I can’t hear the music that plays in my hair
But I fail and it’s dusk when she is the dawn
It’s low tide and the water breaks its bond
I run and I scream and my sound is gone
I fail and it’s dusk when she’d rather be dawn
But I prefer plain and not sticky sweet syrup
It’s hard to try but I must and I cannot give up
I wish for a drink, but from my still empty cup
I am quite plain and not sticky sweet syrup.
Jan 30, 2025
Jan 30, 2025 at 10:32 PM UTC
I sit here,
Like a beetle on it's back
In a crack of it's own design
Crafted it's own demise
Frantically flailing
Panicking mainly
Legs going every witch way,
Becoming to heavy
To reach out for help
No voice to call out for help
Though it tries
Not knowing it's already dead
Hope is the first thing that dies
Moments from the cruel hand dealt
By life itself
Exposing itself
As deaths right hand man
Still we fall for the bluff
And the universe doesn't listen to
"Enough is enough"
If you don't like it
Tough
©2025
Jan 22, 2025
Jan 22, 2025 at 8:53 PM UTC
While I was trying to find
where love could be
Love had come
A thousand times
and I failed to see
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 2:21 PM UTC
I failed
I failed
I failed.
I tried so hard and yet I failed.
I did everything I was supposed to, and yet I failed.
Now, it didn't matter much.
I honestly don't really care.
But it opens a gateway for all the thoughts
that I continuously fail to lock up.
The thoughts.
The thoughts.
Those awful thoughts.
Suddenly I'm crashed into by waves of feeling everything
and then when it subdues, nothing.
EVERYTHING
nothing
EVERYTHING
nothing
EVERYTHING
I am
nothing.
Those thoughts feed off my self-doubt and disappointment,
like a parasite.
I can't get them out.
I can't get them out.
God, they're so loud.
STOP
STOP
STOP
STOP
Shut up.
Just shut up.
Just stop thinking
Just shut your mind up
STOP
STOP
STOP
STOP
Don't cry,
no don't cry.
If you cry, they'll know,
and then,
"Why are you crying?
You have no reason to be sad.
or
anxious
or
depressed
or
possibly even
******* insane.
No, no reason.
No reason whatsoever.
So shut up,
don't cry.
Your life is great.
You have great friends,
(Do I?)
You have great parents,
(Do I?)
You're healthy,
(Am I?)
You're alive,
(Am I?)
Nobody died."
(Had I?)
(I'm dead.)
I'm
dying
dying
dying
Oh god, **** me please
Please I can't do
it on my
own
please
please
please.
It hurts so much,
these waves of everything
and nothing
over and over
and over and over
and over ---
and nothing works.
My brain doesn't work.
Make it stop.
Make it stop.
Make it stop
Stop
Stop
Stop
Stop
Stop.
Please.
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 12:02 AM UTC
Miserable miserable
i was
I am
N
I would
The holding of tears
Eventually dropping like icebergs
Rocks rocks rocks
They sound like rocks
They feel like rocks
They hurt like rocks
How coldness n strength
Changed into warmth n weakness
I followed your light
Worshiped your bright
Through deep n pain
How can i stop the rain
I kept it inside
You threw it aside
We played hide and seek
But only i seek
They said for the sake of love
They said for the sake of redemption
I used to cross my battles
I used to sharpen my dagger
Now I redeemed my soul
N covered my sword
Those were new
I barley knew
I thought i’m tough
But it was rough
Now we have no tears left
Will cry it blood
We won’t make it stop
This heart is rotten
Filled with brok’n
Kitting it string by string
Oh where did the melody of them go
Oh where did the red in them go
Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 7:03 AM UTC