#itsokaytonotbeokay
I don’t have a license to drive anyone crazy — but I do have a mind
that keeps itself driven. __Always on__. Dreams at any given. And
I’ve felt the kind of love sickness that lingers too long — where
obsession is the disease of craving for something that was never really
yours to begin with. Envy stays green, growing tall like something
proud. But even weeds grow healthy, and we still call them plants,
_right_?
I’ve been tied to other people’s hopes — roped in by their strong
faith. "_And I still try to believe._" But saying that out loud feels like lying
to my own mouth. So I daydream in the interest of peace, trying not
to wake the ghouls I’ve tucked under my thoughts. I’ve had people
toss my advice like a smooth stone in their hand; pretending it’s
weightless, like their hands aren’t made of sand — like shallowness
could ever carry any real depth. _But it just echoes the sea_.
I always notice the ones who aren’t really seen. __The unread__...
The Blue and Grey ticks. While others get their messages read and
ignored, I’m just the message never opened. Still _typing_, still _thinking_
of the right words. I’ve come to represent the depressed, the lost, the young — the ones really trying to figure this **** out.
__Pause__ yourself if you need to cuss, but I swear it’s not a curse to feel
like **** sometimes. It just means in that moment, you’re not feeling so clean. Not broken — _just not fitting the costume_.
Sometimes you just need one reason — __just one__ — to feel like
yourself again. Not a version of you tailored to fit in. And that’s why
it suits me better not to force anything. So yeah, I wear shorts to
church — because life is too short, and I don’t see the point in
dressing up pain to make it feel prettier. Especially when it’s always
some casual man speaking formal hopes, trying to iron your sadness
into something presentable. As if comfort should only come with a
collar.
But I’m not here for that. I’m just here trying to feel real —
and maybe make peace with the parts of me that still feel unseen.
Jul 3, 2025
Jul 3, 2025 at 6:47 PM UTC
In a brief squeeze, my chest _wheezed_—
there goes my heart, falling out of itself,
into another rhyme, into another line.
Queue me up for feeling less than myself,
lost in being so lost.
Letting go of old grievances just to make
room for new ones today.
“I’m not okay”—
but I won’t say it, because you MAYBE
won’t think of me the same.
Sometimes I’m determined, other times,
indulgent. I look like I’ve got it together,
but beneath the surface,
_I’m exhausted_—
completely out of order.
_Struggling. Sweating._
But short on words to explain what’s wrong.
I’d be seen as too much for speaking my
pain aloud— but pain is always louder
when it’s silent.
So I speak now for those who are just like
I am.
__We are We__:
navigating identity crises in these
stretched-out teen years of our twenties.
We are plenty— and still enough to
surround each other in love that counts,
instead of letting life count us down
or count us out. We will rise. __Together.__
Jun 21, 2025
Jun 21, 2025 at 3:40 PM UTC
It felt like a nightmare...
I laid in a dark room...with no door
Just a ray of light falling on me through the window
Making me feel like...the only star in the universe
And the other day....the window was smaller than before
But I did nothing...as I laid on the bed the whole time
The days flew by...as if they had got wings
But...made the window smaller...as they went by
A hole was all left...in the name of the window
so weak...I couldn't even reach
out for the last ray of hope with my hand
The window was gone...the hope was gone...
Not even a quark of strength was inside me...
to collect some light for myself
I laid there...paralyzed...on the bed
It felt like...a never ending tunnel with no lights
As I began to forget the colors of the sky and the flowers
I had lost myself...infinitely lost
It was getting hard to breathe in there
Until one day...when I got chained to the bed
the radio was broken...just silence...biting me hard
the air filled with sadness
laid there...hugging me all the time
My heart drank poison everyday
As the pain was unbearable to take
My voice got trapped in my throat
My own words choked my neck
Couldn't even shout...or ask for help
I just laid there...all the time...like a living dead.
May 31, 2021
May 31, 2021 at 7:49 AM UTC
it's the little things about you that make me go crazy.
like the way you bite your lip when your nervous or flustered. or when you laugh you cover your mouth because you hate your smile.
i love it. it proves that you're happy.
but you can be sad. you can be putting a fake smile on just to please others. you can be hurting but not want others to.
you need to understand that, you're not gonna be happy all the time. you're not going to to be able to please people all the time. you can't stress yourself over nothing. you can't always look outside the box.
you can't always focus on the big things. sometimes the little things are the best things.
Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC