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#mentalclarity
I just need a break from everything around — a break to calm my heart, to think in serenity, to make my decisions wise, and to be in peace.
0
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 11:19 PM UTC
A Quiet Pause
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.
0
Jul 3, 2025
Jul 3, 2025 at 6:47 PM UTC
Not Clean, Just Human
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.
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_Crowded foresight_ —         thoughts stacked sky-high,        cluttered windows of a dreaming mind.                 Out of mind,              out of sight…        yet somehow, I keep seeing        the better days of my life          skimming the edge           of a hopeful smile.                    That smile —             soft, unspoken —              given with time,           drawn from deep thoughts               folded in silence.                       . . .            Any life worth seeing —          any __better__ version of me —       is shaped by what I’m willing             to put light on.                  So I               paint my          foresight with      fireflies  and  sunbeams,        hoping the dark             makes room                for the               light I                  keep.
0
Jun 16, 2025
Jun 16, 2025 at 3:59 PM UTC
What I Put Light On