#irreversible
my prime motive,
revolutionary action,
is to contribute,
any desperate way I can..
to conduct research for the environment.
I want to help,
But I feel so powerless.
all this destruction of land, this deep hurt, this pollution, this cold-blooded ******
FOR WHAT?
For money, for greed?
For NOTHING, really.
HOW CAN WE COURSE CORRECT?
WHEN ALL THE BIG PLAYERS DON'T KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON, nor THE CONSEQUENCES OF THEIR ACTIONS?
WHEN THEY DON'T BOTHER TO LEARN HOW THERE'S IMMEASURABLE AND ALMOST IRREVERSIBLE DAMAGE BEING DONE TO THE ENVIRONMENT, OUR UNIFYING SKY?
Using our planet as a single-use waste container for purpose of profit and then die off to leave us with the exponentially worsening impact
they don't know how out of balance, how out of touch they were and are with their surroundings
and nobody knows how shaky with violent emotion I feel
I don't know my individual impact on the world around me,
Now that I live in an imperialist society.
I don't know,
I can't quantify it.
I can't quantify it.
How would I do that? How could I begin to keep track, and assign a numerical value to this damage? MY damage?
It feels selfish to do my laundry every week
using products that will harm the environment
Using power, wasting water, using plastic
Throwing out excess food after every shift.
I'm contributing to the problem,
I'm not above it all.
Disgusting waste and
spoilage integrated into our culture.
Every coffee, every to-go, every sandwich that needs it's own wasteful home that only gets used for 5 minutes
I feel as if I'm about to be sick.
How every little thing adds up,
compounds,
contributes,
to producing toxins in a self-sustaining cyclical fashion.
How much it's all connected.
Theres a heavy disgust that stirs and pushes in my chest.
I feel that I'm contaminated.
And I can't clean what's wrong.
I can't fix this sickness within us.
I can try to be hopeful.
Specific,
passionate about changing and contribute to change.
But that will take time, and hard work,
my life is already feeling relentless.
When can I ever rest?
My life requires a level of discipline I wish I could dedicate to
AND attend to basic needs.
In general, I just feel powerless.
And that I am,
Less than a person.
A number that can be manipulated into working to the bone; spending as much money as possible, staying hungry and unwell.
Trying to take up space makes me jump through mental hoops,
My guilt is immense.
I want this to hurt.
And it does.
It feels as though with every repeated ache to my heart,
It might eventually match the inward; how intense, sharp, ebbing,
Shouting to me, THIS
IS
R E A L .
I feel that I am simply
not.
good.
enough.
to help the world.
As I am a human that can't constantly be working and studying.
As I need rest.
It feels as if I am not reading the room yet again.
I am losing time, they need the solutions NOW. Before the point of no return.
I look at my sleep as a time sink.
I've taken naps to substitute for bedtimes this week to get up early and finish lab reports.
Only even doing so because I couldn't continue to focus from physical exhaustion.
What if I let this **** me?
that.
would make it easy. No more fear. No more anxiety, powerlessness. Nothing.
Living is harder.
But.
If I want anything to ever change,
I need to survive this, and
live.
It would be such a waste otherwise.
It would be playing exactly into what they want.
Loss;
of life, of kindness, of hope.
We will all die someday.
And my talents would be wasted if I didn't go into scientific research for the environment though this gift of lifetime.
I am dedicated, observant, attentive, passionate,
and above all,
Relentless.
I will keep going.
I don't have any other choice.
It's hard to live just for me right now.
As I have a complicated relationship with my physical body; getting in the way of my goals.
But I need to stay well.
In order to dedicate myself to something bigger than my own personhood.
I am not a genius; but I am persistent.
I can be trained to not present bias in thousands of experiments; understand the inner workings of instruments, what they can measure for us, method-optimize.
I am powerless right now but I cannot turn away now that I've seen it.
I wonder how many generations of scientists have felt this way.
Voluntarily wanting to go through these horrible, lonely, mental trials,
humiliating, humbling, shaky crises.
Not for status or monetary gain,
But simply just to help.
That's all I've ever wanted to do.
I want to help.
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 1:45 AM UTC
When the sun sets and all seems forgiven
that shiver in your spine you’ve hidden,
emerge unsustained, serves as a reminder
of what you blindly offered the soul binder.
The turmoil of your choices running thin
while in peril with nothing more to win.
Wipe those tears, put that remorse aside,
the Hell you knew, you’re already inside.
Shedding your skin, facing the cost,
regrets in the shadows of the life you lost,
in vain since you offered that precious soul,
a bargained heart now consumed whole.
Rips you apart to know how you got here,
because what higher price is there,
for that sweet life solemnly granted,
than all that you said you ever wanted,
taken away from you, like plucked corolla;
the dreams you had, paid with your flora.
Jan 3
Jan 3, 2026 at 7:18 PM UTC
A broken vase can never be fixed even glued.
A torn page can never cover it's despatched appearance.
Rifted paths can never passby again.
Past that happened can never be changed.
Occured loss can never be recovered.
Likewise,hurting others with words or actions can never be healed with a mere sorry.
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 9:27 AM UTC
The memories fade milliseconds before I drown in another one
Frozen in fear at the irreversible end of an uncorked weapon
A canon hand cannon
Staring down the rifled barrel of a hunting gun
I can't comprehend the timing of when to run
Most always find myself in a state of stun
Literally can't remember, oh what have I done...
©2024
May 20, 2024
May 20, 2024 at 5:44 PM UTC
For every night spent wide awake
Crying, tossing, and turning because of you
For every time you decieved me
Tore my heart in two.
For making me participate in your game
And stringing my innocent self along
Until I was certain that lonely place
Was exactly where I belonged.
For every "I love you" I believed
Every other sweet word you said
For each compliment you truly meant
Every night spent in your bed.
For every last broken promise
For abusing my heart day after day
I am writing this to you for the love I wasted
For ******* me up in so many irreversible ways.
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 7:04 PM UTC
I sometimes wish to own one of those personalized address stamps. You know the kind. The one with your name and your spouses. Or just with your shared name that became your forever last name.
"The Jones'
102 Bliss Ln."
The thing about those though? They're permanent. And I am not. In the past five years I have lived... 1, 2, 3, 4,... 8. Eight different places, all but two in the same town. Now imagine if I set out to roam the world. Too many options.
I can tell every college student going to my alma mater where the safe areas are too live.
"You don't want to live on the corner of here and there or that and this", and, "don't you dare think of living anywhere east of that street." "Oh that street? Yes it is has beautiful red and yellow tulips in the spring."
I can list off which apartments have hardwood floors, which are furnished - leather couches or ugly brown ones you'll sink down into, whose wifi ***** and doesn't.
Stir crazy. That's what that's called. At least that's what I get when I'm in one place for what I deem as being too long. I had to graduate so I changed houses, not cities. Although I considered a commute.
Now being here is driving me insane too. Crazy. It won't be long before I drop everything and move on. Now you can see why I can't have a personalized letter stamp. Hell, I don't have a permanent "home" longer than 6 months at a time. How do you expect me to have a permanent change to my last name as well.
To be laid out in ink?
Irreversible like these moves I've made.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
When we were young
Our frozen breath was smoke
From cigarettes
When we were young
Our hands were guns
As we'd to shoot each other to the ground
When we were young
Our lead and our pencil
Were a syringe we pressed against our flesh
When we were young
We didn't have to worry about the cost
Because to us it was all pretend
But now we aren't so young
And the things we do are no longer pretend
So now there are costs we can't escape
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC