#invisiblepain
I feel like crap.
It isn't the coming and going kind.
It's the stick to you day and night
Occupy your dreams kind.
There's no escape.
I don't want to talk about.
I do but I don't.
It's the leave me alone kind.
It's the ask me what's wrong kind.
It's the care about but don't care about me kind.
It's the I just want to be normal kind.
I want to be good enough kind.
It's the nothingness.
It's the emptiness.
The I want to go home but I can't.
I've lost every part of me.
Give it away and get it back broken
Snapped in half, mutilated.
Now at that point where there is only a little left to give.
And I have decided not to give it away anymore.
I'm keeping it to myself.
Not my friends,
Not my family,
No one.
I can't give it away anymore.
I'm stuck.
I'm stuck.
I'm stuck.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
I gave up pieces of myself that I never found.
In the midst of being with you I am mourning what I never was.
I see myself and my invisibility and I just stopped trying.
I gave in to things that are less than me and became less of who I could have been.
I have shrank myself not because of you but because of who I allowed myself to not be.
I feel powerful and weak and capable and incapable all at once.
I am a mixture of confusion and loss of youth.
My heart has only ever beaten sadly.
Panic attacks have become common.
I don’t even recognize them but I feel like I am being swallowed whole.
I can’t crawl out of my skin, I am caged and I am claustrophobic.
I want to be happy. It’s all here but I can’t reach it.
I feel my heart wanting to burst and I am afraid of heart attacks and aneurysms.
But also wonder if that would be best.
Apr 20
Apr 20, 2026 at 4:17 PM UTC
Love my fluffy friend more than stranger parents.
My innocent friend, don’t follow trend,
Always same, always bland,
Soaked in invisible blood
stains.
Soul bleeds, life is a mess.
Fairytale is a home, lifelong bless.
World demands unaddressed sacrifice,
Always it scales the less.
Providers have the crown of madness, laser light of so much pride
More than the Almighty?
On the pointed light, we search a corner to hide.
They demand exchange,
More obedience than so little guidance,
From every way possible.
Aren’t we kids human?
Not all-rounder in every syllable.
In this so called perfect world not everything is doable.
Mock your looks, the love for your academic books.
They say nothing matters
Losers can't fight
That’s how each night
A fragile heart shatters.
Not everyone is a topper,
A beauty with wisdom ,
Chef, also good vegetable chopper.
Not a full-time cleaner,
Not a extraordinary kid and to whom world says clever
Work all time, no exchange of wages,
The meter of scale never truly changes.
Pillow, the transparent pain you swallow,
Leaves my tired eyes hollow.
It hurts so much I can’t sleep,
Biting my dear pillow, I silence my broken weep.
Tried to keep
All your demands in my hand , it stabbed too deep.
It bleeds every day,
Searching for the Almighty
In the clouds, swaying leaves
Who never demands, only gives.
Buried my sleep
I was never meant to keep.
Gave up spectacles who promised better sight
World laughs, they don’t like.
(A) gets mockery over the study of hours after cleaning, chopping, cooking, being a best kid
I dropped the lid of life
Dropped my clingy weight —
Scale wants only 45.
Still, world says to little ones,
“Don’t be like her, she is 1 out of 85.”
A soft pillow, where we search for comfort,
We blame the illegal claim.
Pain sings by every broken chord.
Where is pain? Yearn for God.
So near, but so far,
Lord of scale up there
But here, scale is the only proof,
Charges rent in obedience,
Reward is just a roof.
Here heart stays unkept.
I am stuck in Life debt.
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 12:45 AM UTC
_to exist_
when i want nothing but love of my own
for myself
some of it,
dedicated entirely to my being,
my skin, by all means
and i feel like this skin isn't mine
like a second layer
some days i dream of tearing it apart
and perhaps finding what i look like
within
is it any different from the other deformations?
do i have it smooth, baby-like, good enough, to be accepted?
had it been all natural,
nature-given, that way i'd have perhaps accepted
alas, knowing it's a play of the world onto me
and in my body,
my blood messing up everything it's meant to do for me
all because of the ones that were supposed to create antibodies
_there's this guttural scream that ensnares me whole_
where do i go
when i see them fight the demons outside and around
i can't even win the battles that i carry within me, all time round
and i'm on a war with myself
there's rage, there's ache, there's the pain
of when will i accept
i shall forever bargain
why do i even begin to heal if i have to go down the same place
down the same low
the lows hit lower
i see new symptoms, new symphonies of how it could and would
and it does—it gets worse again
and it's a cycle
healing, accept the white little ***** that carry the science of potential magic
put all my hopes, have them disintegrate
go back again
start at the beginning, new dose around—i'm healing
and then i come crashing down again
and it's the nights
and the mornings
that are the worst
both the times, when i should be at my best
i'm battling, wanting to hide and disappear
and wear a snake-like skin on myself
_i hate me_
and this hatred lives deep within like a monster that birthed itself
out of the normal, the ordinary that i have lacked
there are days where i pull at my roots
watch them fade
watch them fall
i cry and lose hope with every strand that couldn't stand tall
and it's like cemented on me
had it been scales on a snake, i'd have called it flashy
it's disgust that's piled in my eyes, against my being
i see the look on my face
the dead, the dead stares back every time i try to play pretend
and it whispers
it whispers, smirking in my ear
_this is what you get_
be normal?
oh i would do anything—exchange half my lifeline
if i could live through a healthy half of life
or whatever remains
i've tired myself out of it all anyway
there's bumps
and there's fractures
i feel like it's my own skin that peels
every time i grasp it
and it's visceral
too graphical, no gore however
makes me wonder
how it'd be—moments of softness
where i cherish just me
where who i am isn't my enemy
even just for a breath
i wish to write about that breath
but oh—
imagining is hard when there's nothing left for you to do
the ones living in delusions have thought and wondered if it could all come true
my case is different
so far, years upon years i've been hoping
but the last of this strength, the last drop in the vessel that was given
it might run out as soon as i stop breathing and moping
and i am perhaps the most devastating liar of all
you shall never see me burning myself to the ground
for i'll stand tall through it all
and in front of your lies, i'll deceive and speak my practiced lines
i'm alright, it is what it is—i'll be fine
_i won't be. i am not. i'm tired. give me some hope._
i might be a ***** for feelings
and i fear—i fear so loudly in a silence
call me a prostitute—love is what i want
hatred is all that i got
i have been hiding
and i've been running
and i sat in this adventure ride
never got back out of it
i'm scared
and i don't think i'll get out of this shell ever
so i imagine myself hiding
covered in multiple shells and armors
walls surrounding me, boundaries in the form of
words and my own scars—the ones that aren't even on the surface
protecting me, giving the silent comfort
that they are here, to carry me on, forward
and i've lied so much
i started believing my own lies
forgetting what was the truth
'cause it hurt so much
what do you do when you go down?
_where do you go when you are drowning?_
quiet is peaceful
quiet is welcoming
like i don't have to perform to exist in here, no
especially the dark
no one can see me
i can't see me
and that's just easy
to exist that way
been felt for, not seen on the surface
not just looked at, but heard
for your voice to find out of your own existence
there's voices in my head
that'll scare you more
what even is there to love
or like?
i see nothing
and on the surface
it's all to despise
show me if there's something
don't tell me it's the heart that's worth it
when you starve yourself for long enough
the void of hunger becomes like it's a normal
the new normal
starving myself of everything
to get used to it the best way
_the void_, though
continues to grow
i get these random bouts of feeling
such immense loneliness
makes me want to pull in the closest person
hug them tight
take all the warmth
squeeze out my life
i'm layers upon layers
of words and of stories
of people i've met, their memory
and of all who've given up before me
_girl in pieces_, i shall call myself
_would anyone even want me?_
Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 12:03 PM UTC
just a simple question,
dressed as a metaphor —
where do i get buried
when i can barely breathe on this earth?
kind of like a suffocation so deep,
filling my very being —
in my veins.
oh, i feel so weak.
invisible cuts bleed,
a kind of self-punishment.
spent so long handing out pieces of myself
like fragile offerings
to daily otherworldly deities —
hoping to provide
even an inch of comfort
that i usually needed.
was it ever enough?
yet called names, looked at in strange ways —
speculated every moment,
like a statue in an odd place.
as if they see through it all —
all the façade
of being high up on the clouds.
humorous, it shall be,
if they were to see
the stricken sounds i make —
grief-filled,
and vowing to never
ever let a pair of hands
hold my heart again.
this bleeds.
aches so tenderly —
like trying to whisper through a scream,
like trying to write to a hollow
that doesn't seem to cease,
like an overflowing cannon
that just never really spills.
will this be seen
as that quiet, raw, untamed beauty?
beast-like,
trying to hold it
within the grasp of stiff hands?
have they felt a little less alone?
perhaps in my company —
for i wouldn't want them to go
into the same feelings
of never being heeded to.
i wished they'd see,
but i'm walked all over through.
can't help it —
yeah, i know.
always left wondering:
why can't i comfort
with words
as they're meant to?
they feel like smoke and silence —
barely hard to describe
or to put down.
the heaviness
heaves a sigh
every time i spread my arms
a bit around.
maybe connections are hard.
maybe i should be quieter.
speaking has never helped —
perhaps i should tie
my hands,
my feet,
my mouth —
and vanish?
disappear?
become a ghost without a heartbeat —
because i haven’t really
been living either.
will you listen to the echoes
of these voices —
and the way they sound
in the night,
and when the sun dawns,
and the skies align?
will you see?
will you listen
to me?
May 14, 2025
May 14, 2025 at 12:37 PM UTC