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#reallife
My brain wakes up every morning like a raccoon that somehow gained access to the control panel of my life. Apparently today’s priority is organising the kitchen cupboard. Not normally organising it. No. Alphabetically. By snacks. Because obviously the digestive biscuit situation has been out of control for far too long. Halfway through alphabetising the crisps my brain suddenly remembers FINANCES! So we open the laptop. Twenty minutes later I have: • seventeen tabs open • three spreadsheets • a calculator • a YouTube video about sharks • and a deep curiosity about why pigeons walk like they’re late for a business meeting. During this time my brain also decides we must: clean the kettle, check the fridge, move the same spoon four times because apparently spoons have vibes. Then I walk into another room and immediately forget why I went in there. So I walk back out. Then back in. Then back out again. Like a very confused character in a video game waiting for the player to remember the mission. At one point I just stand there staring at the wall while the loading wheel in my head spins like please wait… brain buffering… But here’s the truly ridiculous part. After all the chaos the random side quests and the mental parkour somehow the bills get paid. The house is organised. The problems get solved. And I sit there thinking that was without question the most unnecessarily complicated route to success in human history but apparently this brain refuses to take the motorway when it can take every scenic route in the country first. Anyway… the cupboard looks amazing and I have no idea how the taxes got done but I’m not questioning it.
0
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 7:39 AM UTC
My Brain Should Not Have Administrative Rights
My brain wakes up every morning like a raccoon that somehow gained access to the control panel of my life. Apparently today’s priority is organising the kitchen cupboard. Not normally organising it. No. Alphabetically. By snacks. Because obviously the digestive biscuit situation has been out of control for far too long. Halfway through alphabetising the crisps my brain suddenly remembers FINANCES! So we open the laptop. Twenty minutes later I have: • seventeen tabs open • three spreadsheets • a calculator • a YouTube video about sharks • and a deep curiosity about why pigeons walk like they’re late for a business meeting. During this time my brain also decides we must: clean the kettle, check the fridge, move the same spoon four times because apparently spoons have vibes. Then I walk into another room and immediately forget why I went in there. So I walk back out. Then back in. Then back out again. Like a very confused character in a video game waiting for the player to remember the mission. At one point I just stand there staring at the wall while the loading wheel in my head spins like please wait… brain buffering… But here’s the truly ridiculous part. After all the chaos the random side quests and the mental parkour somehow the bills get paid. The house is organised. The problems get solved. And I sit there thinking that was without question the most unnecessarily complicated route to success in human history but apparently this brain refuses to take the motorway when it can take every scenic route in the country first. Anyway… the cupboard looks amazing and I have no idea how the taxes got done but I’m not questioning it.
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81
You picked the wrong house to try and make an example of. Our dogs bark when we’re out — and suddenly you’re street patrol, noise control, self-appointed council role. But every night your doorstep’s a carousel — trainers on gravel, hoods pulled low, hands moving quiet but not subtle. Funny how your ears work selectively. You can hear a bark through two walls but not deals through your own front door. Selective outrage must be convenient. Because across the road your front garden turned fight night — grown women swinging pride, rolling in the grass, dignity spilling faster than their arguments. And somehow my dogs are the disruption? Let’s talk disruption. We don’t shout. We don’t host traffic. We don’t turn pavements into performance art. We don’t draw drama to our doorstep like it’s décor. We keep to ourselves. Not because we’re weak — because we’ve already survived too much noise. You see quiet and think push-over. You see private and think prey. That’s your mistake. These dogs you moan about? They stood by us when stability was temporary and the streets were colder than neighbourly smiles. They bark because they guard. They bark because they care. They bark because loyalty doesn’t come silent. And you — with your revolving door evenings and your garden gladiator episodes — think we’re the chaos? No. We’re the only house on this street not broadcasting dysfunction. You confuse restraint for fear. You confuse peace for weakness. You confuse our silence for permission. We don’t complain about your nightly kick-offs. We don’t document your drama. We don’t threaten letters. We mind our business. Maybe try it. Because we fought to get off the streets. We fought for this roof. We fought for this stability. And we’re not moving because you need someone quieter than you to feel powerful. If you want order — start at home. If you want silence — check your own volume. If you want to bully someone — find someone who hasn’t already survived worse than you. Wrong house. Wrong people. Wrong assumption. Peaceful does not mean powerless.
0
Feb 14
Feb 14, 2026 at 11:52 AM UTC
Wrong Door
You picked the wrong house to try and make an example of. Our dogs bark when we’re out — and suddenly you’re street patrol, noise control, self-appointed council role. But every night your doorstep’s a carousel — trainers on gravel, hoods pulled low, hands moving quiet but not subtle. Funny how your ears work selectively. You can hear a bark through two walls but not deals through your own front door. Selective outrage must be convenient. Because across the road your front garden turned fight night — grown women swinging pride, rolling in the grass, dignity spilling faster than their arguments. And somehow my dogs are the disruption? Let’s talk disruption. We don’t shout. We don’t host traffic. We don’t turn pavements into performance art. We don’t draw drama to our doorstep like it’s décor. We keep to ourselves. Not because we’re weak — because we’ve already survived too much noise. You see quiet and think push-over. You see private and think prey. That’s your mistake. These dogs you moan about? They stood by us when stability was temporary and the streets were colder than neighbourly smiles. They bark because they guard. They bark because they care. They bark because loyalty doesn’t come silent. And you — with your revolving door evenings and your garden gladiator episodes — think we’re the chaos? No. We’re the only house on this street not broadcasting dysfunction. You confuse restraint for fear. You confuse peace for weakness. You confuse our silence for permission. We don’t complain about your nightly kick-offs. We don’t document your drama. We don’t threaten letters. We mind our business. Maybe try it. Because we fought to get off the streets. We fought for this roof. We fought for this stability. And we’re not moving because you need someone quieter than you to feel powerful. If you want order — start at home. If you want silence — check your own volume. If you want to bully someone — find someone who hasn’t already survived worse than you. Wrong house. Wrong people. Wrong assumption. Peaceful does not mean powerless.
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106
They stole your youth, And they stole your words: The rockers of Kiiminki And Oulu Saw your talent, And they were envious. I know your style, And I know who the thieves are. The audience doesn't know you: Your old band mates didn't give you Any credit. (The audience is yours, really, Not theirs.) With this poem, I want to tell you about Aadi: He looked like Kid Rock, And he was an honest and A gentle man. He would've been a great husband and A great dad, But he ended up with the wrong gang.
0
Jan 31
Jan 31, 2026 at 1:31 PM UTC
Aadi - He Looked Like Kid Rock
From afar, it looks surreal This wan future I think true But what I claim I know is there Many others see right through Such romantic ideation Makes it easy to stay far For I know on my approaching I will see things as they are While I dream of what I’ve made it I forget to count the cost Since in staring at this fiction I don't see the time I’ve lost But that scene I thought was waiting Is in fact a better place For the distance keeps me lonely While the closeness brings embrace Although fantasy is easy For we men who don’t want near Choosing truth with imperfection Will do more to settle fear When the haze of your own fiction Dissipates to what is true You find meaning in the desert And become more real, too.
0
Dec 30, 2025
Dec 30, 2025 at 3:44 PM UTC
Mirage
today, I'm a leaf clinging— on a morning branch swinging long stretched evenings
0
Apr 16, 2025
Apr 16, 2025 at 10:17 PM UTC
Hours & Minutes
The badger was digging all out, In search of some grubs, no doubt. With dirt flying high, He let out a sigh, And left quite a mess all about!
0
Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 11:07 AM UTC
The Badger
Learned more from this pain than i ever did from a church. Listening to your gut but make sure you detox it first. **** be killin me softly, leave me in a Hearse, Never a good thing when i hear from you first. Be careful what you see, even salt look like sugar, Maturity is not throwing salt when you know you could've, And not smackin ******* when you know you should've. People Be like "oh i miss you" **** i miss me too. Had to use these teflon tissues to get me thru, You not alone, **** i wanna be with me too, Deadass On some days , smiles were too good to be true. I be business minded when i be minding my business. And ****** be ******* and ******* be on some ***** **** Overcame this novocain, Recasted the impression of depression, Ring around the rosary, Never relying on religion. Im from a home of funny bones And My elbows been ashy, I knew It would take more than macaroni art to kraft me, And i been itching for this platform If you ask me, I used to wonder if i was a real person. I used to wonder like what's my real purpose? When i was young ,I taught my shadow to stick to my toes, When lifes a battle, I fought to stick to mottos. As a poet i never looked at it this way, I never booked myself for this reading. I was overbooked. I bookmarked my favorite moments , I been forever overlooked. And never understood what "more" ment, I been overcooked. The preheating of this season left me bleeding. This farenheit left me heavy breathin No fear of heights but Excuse me while I fall from - grace - me with your presence and These broken promises, Never been transparent to this degree, Had to leave that monster house. That was my American horror story. I used to be couped up, Had to tell double d to get outta my laboratory, See mfs want my jazz but not my blues, They Wanna be in my class but aint payed they dues, Yall be Morally incorrect, ....More or less... Lately i been Moralless, Need to get saved no church bells , Put me on the zach Morris list, These rhymes be like my confessions, Front row seat to my ascension, Carry out this life to which we've been sentenced, Delivery me from evil - with even more incentives, I dream in MLA format. Double spaced a letter to my younger self, Just some **** I wish i told the older me A ***** laundry list of things I thought ought to be owed to me, My OCD be blowin me, Need all my ducks in a row, My prolonged silence been leading this Crescendo, Im not playing NO GAMES, fuxk you and your Nintendo.
0
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
Disasterpiece
Learned more from this pain than i ever did from a church. Listening to your gut but make sure you detox it first. **** be killin me softly, leave me in a Hearse, Never a good thing when i hear from you first. Be careful what you see, even salt look like sugar, Maturity is not throwing salt when you know you could've, And not smackin ******* when you know you should've. People Be like "oh i miss you" **** i miss me too. Had to use these teflon tissues to get me thru, You not alone, **** i wanna be with me too, Deadass On some days , smiles were too good to be true. I be business minded when i be minding my business. And ****** be ******* and ******* be on some ***** **** Overcame this novocain, Recasted the impression of depression, Ring around the rosary, Never relying on religion. Im from a home of funny bones And My elbows been ashy, I knew It would take more than macaroni art to kraft me, And i been itching for this platform If you ask me, I used to wonder if i was a real person. I used to wonder like what's my real purpose? When i was young ,I taught my shadow to stick to my toes, When lifes a battle, I fought to stick to mottos. As a poet i never looked at it this way, I never booked myself for this reading. I was overbooked. I bookmarked my favorite moments , I been forever overlooked. And never understood what "more" ment, I been overcooked. The preheating of this season left me bleeding. This farenheit left me heavy breathin No fear of heights but Excuse me while I fall from - grace - me with your presence and These broken promises, Never been transparent to this degree, Had to leave that monster house. That was my American horror story. I used to be couped up, Had to tell double d to get outta my laboratory, See mfs want my jazz but not my blues, They Wanna be in my class but aint payed they dues, Yall be Morally incorrect, ....More or less... Lately i been Moralless, Need to get saved no church bells , Put me on the zach Morris list, These rhymes be like my confessions, Front row seat to my ascension, Carry out this life to which we've been sentenced, Delivery me from evil - with even more incentives, I dream in MLA format. Double spaced a letter to my younger self, Just some **** I wish i told the older me A ***** laundry list of things I thought ought to be owed to me, My OCD be blowin me, Need all my ducks in a row, My prolonged silence been leading this Crescendo, Im not playing NO GAMES, fuxk you and your Nintendo.
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65
You think you deserve something but life slaps you upon the head and throws you down reminding you that after all you've doneyou don't deserve **** I had a strokeabout a week ago and there as a possibility of me getting to go home today instead of tomorrow but my blood level dropped to an undesirable rate this causing me to have to stay longer missing my oldest sisters funeral. I thought I would get to go buy that's was just life toying with my emotions again. I have a constant thought on"You don't deserve to be happy Ben!You don't deserve happiness. You can't pretend to be a good guy every now and then. it's such a disappoint to know I could've made my love better but now with all these life threatening hospitalizations and not knowinghow long I have left to live it just leaves me with such disappointment. I've always wished I could restart my life over andbe a better man but I know that's impossible just another disappointment that I get to live with I use to lash out in anger but that isn't going to change anything and it's a waste of time
0
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 8:27 AM UTC
Diasppoint
600 feet up in the air with you Battling gravity tooth and nail "No strings attached” you say While my soul has already nestled   in your arms There comes an incoherent yell   Of an old friend from beneath Her alarm attempts to tickle my ears Yet I’m held to your heart too close To care for anything Other than the melody of your pulse "No strings attached” you say. Aye- agreed!   What holds us together is a chain you must know.   Looping itself around us both   With each twist we take In your whirlwind of passion Every tiny particle of space removed Locking us together- as one “No strings attached”   You murmur into a deaf ear Hurling my soul out of your lap   At long last. 600 feet downwards I’m shot Like a bullet out of a ruthless gun Landing in wrong hands   and wrong beds on my way in mid-air,suspended In dreams spinning Now I’m fumbling in my heart   for the rusty chain   That held us together   The old friend too yells “No strings attached”   My chest is empty You must have pulled at my heartstrings..
0
Oct 13, 2020
Oct 13, 2020 at 5:42 PM UTC
Crashlander
Sometimes, I see them walking here in the square, chained to their digital world scared to be in real life I guess. Or they just don't care Years ago, it was different, a ball rolled here every day. There was that rotten boy who always won my marbles, times just rolled away But at least I had something precious to lose and did not sit all day staring at a small screen. We also had less to choose. I only went back home for half an hour just to see The mysteries of scooby-doo or those **** Duke boys that were on black and white TV. Yes, this square used to be fun liveliness, cohesion and laughter wide spread. nowadays it seems more like an episode of the Walking dead.
0
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC
Digital dead
Hand-written letters are overrated almost non-existent. Like love, as a child, you have longed to experience and even rushed. You knocked on hearts to know what it felt like but all you had were broken bottles of liquors that made you dizzy. Red champagne and Rosé you learned to immune yourself to like water and air you breathe in everyday. Broken dishes on the counter and sink you never washed because you never went home, because there was nothing to go home to. Everything seemed to change when I blew the candle on my 25th birthday cake
0
Jul 18, 2020
Jul 18, 2020 at 2:08 PM UTC
april 9
the want to destroy but the need to create the need to grieve yet the want to celebrate to build a temple not to worship but mock a god to raise a building only to watch it fall the desire to say no but you can't seem to refuse the want to love but hatred is all you use to be angry and scream but you can't help but smile the need to live in reality but be stuck in a lie.
0
May 10, 2020
May 10, 2020 at 12:29 PM UTC
contradiction
Speak my name And I shall materialize Casting dark shadows To blind your eyes And bind you To misfortuned destiny Speak my name And prepare to see That bad luck has a dearly cost But comes to you for free
0
Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 9:00 AM UTC
Bad Luck
Tears tainted by innocence lost, A deep rift etched by sorrow laid bare, Primal memory painted in the hidden recess of one's mind, Time lapses, the past echoes throughout the present. Happiness is a mere mirror of truth. beholding a skewered reflection. While the void grasps and holds you dear, Like an accursed lover, Bound by fear.
0
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 7:53 PM UTC
The Void
Clearly I see That my diligent Ego Ran Me into Me Mad cop versus Good Cop Clearly I seek A real life Where Me is a fan of Me again Where I am not my undoing Instead, I am my best asset My best friend.
0
Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 6:31 PM UTC
Clearly 2thousand-2enty
Everyone is not meant for Greatness Why can we not simply live? Is life not to be enjoyed? The simple things get overlooked A simple happiness gets shunned Why do we have to push? Push We push our lives away from comfort We push our loved ones away in a quest for one moment of light We compare and contrast our lives When did we stop being people? People with sparks behind our eyes People with a heart in full bloom People where we all live in the sun of the day instead under the covers of night We are no longer drops of sunshine, honeypies, and daisies. We are zombies, vampires, and wraiths. Do not shun kindess Offer a smile and look up at the bright new day
0
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 4:36 PM UTC
Withering in the Sun
I’ve had this feeling deep inside, That I will get left behind, I feel I need to run and hide, But I know I should be kind. I try to distract my self, From all the stress and tears, It may not be good for my health, But I continue to cover my ears. I keep telling myself it’ll be okay, That the voices are not here to stay, That the demons are here to play, And that it’ll all go away. I smile and laugh so no one will know, All these horrors will come and go, I will continue to keep it on the low, And learn to let my emotions flow.
0
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 7:27 AM UTC
Stress and Tears
This is not a fantasy book. This is not a story were the girl gets her prince and the boy slays the dragon. This is not a story with a wicked witch or magic shoes. This is real life. The girl paints on a smile and the boy drinks away his fears. The dragons are our deepest darkest thoughts. The wicked witch is our crippling depression. the magic shoes are just shoes we wear to make us seem like we have life handled. This is real life. This is not a movie where everyone lives happily ever after. This is a world were some people don't even live. This is a place were people are just surviving. This is real life.
0
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 11:10 AM UTC
This is Life
Show me... There are so many thing about you that people don't see They try to show you their issues Compared to what some people go through, their "issue" isn't really an issue at all You want to scream, shout, rant, rave Anything you can do to make them listen They don't care You try to be open To be honest ...They Shrug it off I guess what you have to say isn't that important to them That's it That's the breaking point You let it all out Show me! Show me how this isn't so bad Show me a time when you wanted to slit your wrists and make your suffering end Show me! Show me a time when you were stripped away from your family Show me a time when you were placed in the foster system at, not even, two years old Show me! Show me a time when you felt unloved......unwanted Show me a time when you found out two of your closest friends are suicidal Show me the scars on your wrist from each time you tried something You can't! You don't have any Show me a time when you were ripped apart Unable to figure out who you really are Show me a time when your parents tried to kick you out at 16 Show me a time when you felt so lost all you could see was the darkness Show me! **** it! Show me already! Show me a time when you woke up crying from a nightmare Where one of the people you love the most was the person who caused your death Show me a time when you would just sit in your room, alone, and cry until you felt sick Show me a time when your closest friend stabbed you in the back...multiple times Show me! I'm begging you Show me! But you can't You haven't experienced it Show me you know what this type of pain feels like Show me you know how it feels to cry yourself to sleep for weeks on end Show me a time when you almost lost who you were Show me a time when you almost gave up everything you believed in You can't You don't know what I'm talking about Beneath the surface of my harsh exterior, there is a girl And she is struggling She is fighting a war the only way she knows how She is breaking apart Trying so hard to put herself back together...only to be broken again See how she feels through her eyes See things the way she does For her It's dark Gray Lonely Desolate Hopeless That's how she feels She struggles to find a silver lining But if you don't look past the surface, you will never know You will never know she's breaking You will never know she's falling apart You will never know the battles she fights daily You won't know unless you look beneath the surface When you finally do, let me know what you find
0
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 8:36 AM UTC
Beneath the Surface
Show me... There are so many thing about you that people don't see They try to show you their issues Compared to what some people go through, their "issue" isn't really an issue at all You want to scream, shout, rant, rave Anything you can do to make them listen They don't care You try to be open To be honest ...They Shrug it off I guess what you have to say isn't that important to them That's it That's the breaking point You let it all out Show me! Show me how this isn't so bad Show me a time when you wanted to slit your wrists and make your suffering end Show me! Show me a time when you were stripped away from your family Show me a time when you were placed in the foster system at, not even, two years old Show me! Show me a time when you felt unloved......unwanted Show me a time when you found out two of your closest friends are suicidal Show me the scars on your wrist from each time you tried something You can't! You don't have any Show me a time when you were ripped apart Unable to figure out who you really are Show me a time when your parents tried to kick you out at 16 Show me a time when you felt so lost all you could see was the darkness Show me! **** it! Show me already! Show me a time when you woke up crying from a nightmare Where one of the people you love the most was the person who caused your death Show me a time when you would just sit in your room, alone, and cry until you felt sick Show me a time when your closest friend stabbed you in the back...multiple times Show me! I'm begging you Show me! But you can't You haven't experienced it Show me you know what this type of pain feels like Show me you know how it feels to cry yourself to sleep for weeks on end Show me a time when you almost lost who you were Show me a time when you almost gave up everything you believed in You can't You don't know what I'm talking about Beneath the surface of my harsh exterior, there is a girl And she is struggling She is fighting a war the only way she knows how She is breaking apart Trying so hard to put herself back together...only to be broken again See how she feels through her eyes See things the way she does For her It's dark Gray Lonely Desolate Hopeless That's how she feels She struggles to find a silver lining But if you don't look past the surface, you will never know You will never know she's breaking You will never know she's falling apart You will never know the battles she fights daily You won't know unless you look beneath the surface When you finally do, let me know what you find
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69
I'm sorry... is this not "real life"? I must have walked through the wrong door. You see: I walked through the door that had the word "reality" engraved across it's chestnut wood. I walked through the door that had the burning handle so hot it branded me with the truth on my palm when I turned the **** I walked through the door that was jammed shut with the stuffings of lies that I've told myself for the past how ever many centuries. I walked through the same door that you did, seemingly, since that was the only door that I saw. So how, excuse me for asking, is your reality any more "real life" than mine? You tell me that I should be preparing for the "real world" but how is this not real enough for you? If this isn't the real world than how does anyone survive real life. Just because we're kept in an institution that shoves unnecessary knowledge down our already tear-choked throats doesn't mean this isn't real. Just because we don't know how we feel about the crazy world around us doesn't mean this isn't real. Just because you can't seem to respect us like we respect the rest of you doesn't mean for one second that this isn't real. I sincerely apologize if you've been put under the false pretense that I'm living a fairy-tale because I'm not. I sincerely apologize if, this whole time, you thought that I was writing the perfect dream poem of love for myself, because I wasn't. I sincerely apologize if you saw me and thought that I was some fantastic princess who smiles and sings to birds, because I don't. I don't understand how you don't think this isn't real life because I certainly do. So does the girl who doesn't even want to live anymore, this is real life to her and it hurts her. So does the guy who just killed himself because he can't handle the academic rocks that settle in his stomach when he hears the words "high school" or "homework". I certainly think this is real life, or are the lines on my wrists just plots to another princess story you were told when you were young. Are the scars just the structural integrity for the castle you dreamed of as a little kid with pointed roofs. I certainly think this is real life because tripping into love and falling out again hurts us just as much as it hurts you. I certainly think this is real life because my stress is just as heavy as yours it just goes by a different nickname. Call it academic or peer or life but stress is stress and my threshold has a different line than yours. Don't tell me this isn't real life just because your fire-breathing dragon breathes fire that burns brighter blue than mine. Don't tell me this isn't real life just because your hair has to be longer to let down and to climb up. Don't tell me this isn't real life just because you're prince-charming took longer to rescue you than mine did. Because I am my own dragon. I am my own ladder to climb. I am my own prince-charming and I'll save myself from this life. Because this is real life, and if it isn't, then I'm never going to make it.
0
Mar 28, 2019
Mar 28, 2019 at 2:54 PM UTC
Real Life: Spoken Word
I'm sorry... is this not "real life"? I must have walked through the wrong door. You see: I walked through the door that had the word "reality" engraved across it's chestnut wood. I walked through the door that had the burning handle so hot it branded me with the truth on my palm when I turned the **** I walked through the door that was jammed shut with the stuffings of lies that I've told myself for the past how ever many centuries. I walked through the same door that you did, seemingly, since that was the only door that I saw. So how, excuse me for asking, is your reality any more "real life" than mine? You tell me that I should be preparing for the "real world" but how is this not real enough for you? If this isn't the real world than how does anyone survive real life. Just because we're kept in an institution that shoves unnecessary knowledge down our already tear-choked throats doesn't mean this isn't real. Just because we don't know how we feel about the crazy world around us doesn't mean this isn't real. Just because you can't seem to respect us like we respect the rest of you doesn't mean for one second that this isn't real. I sincerely apologize if you've been put under the false pretense that I'm living a fairy-tale because I'm not. I sincerely apologize if, this whole time, you thought that I was writing the perfect dream poem of love for myself, because I wasn't. I sincerely apologize if you saw me and thought that I was some fantastic princess who smiles and sings to birds, because I don't. I don't understand how you don't think this isn't real life because I certainly do. So does the girl who doesn't even want to live anymore, this is real life to her and it hurts her. So does the guy who just killed himself because he can't handle the academic rocks that settle in his stomach when he hears the words "high school" or "homework". I certainly think this is real life, or are the lines on my wrists just plots to another princess story you were told when you were young. Are the scars just the structural integrity for the castle you dreamed of as a little kid with pointed roofs. I certainly think this is real life because tripping into love and falling out again hurts us just as much as it hurts you. I certainly think this is real life because my stress is just as heavy as yours it just goes by a different nickname. Call it academic or peer or life but stress is stress and my threshold has a different line than yours. Don't tell me this isn't real life just because your fire-breathing dragon breathes fire that burns brighter blue than mine. Don't tell me this isn't real life just because your hair has to be longer to let down and to climb up. Don't tell me this isn't real life just because you're prince-charming took longer to rescue you than mine did. Because I am my own dragon. I am my own ladder to climb. I am my own prince-charming and I'll save myself from this life. Because this is real life, and if it isn't, then I'm never going to make it.
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1
Stuck Behind the scenes Hidden In the closet It’s all the same I’m stuck No one supports me The real me The one I can only show friends I don’t want to hide it Not from my family But I have to They wouldn’t understand They’d just say “I’m being selfish” Or “I don’t understand” But I’m not dumb I understand everything perfectly I know who I am And who I like No one can change that Hopefully people will accept me For me Maybe I won’t have to hide I can finally be true Unlike most people It’s relaxing Finally knowing Who I am The mystery is solved I know me Who I am was finally Revealed
0
Mar 8, 2019
Mar 8, 2019 at 1:17 AM UTC
Finally Revealed By: Sunset
It is so crazy how much I can invest in someone. How much love and affection I constantly give. How much time and effort I hand out whenever they’re upset or in pain. My question is who is there for me? Who will give me the same amount of love and affection I constantly hand out for free? I’m not Oprah. Who is gonna give me the time and effort I deserve? I’m not a ….
0
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 2:58 AM UTC
2:46 AM
11.22.18 - 2.22.19 This week marks three months gone of thousands of months I plan to live The day I gave myself to the comfort of my True Father instead of to the discomfort Of a Blade. I now ignore that sense of lust for the sight of my own blood the addiction I found in spreading lies across my arms I've given up the sense of calm I found in watching my skin heal again Reminding me that I was utterly human yet somehow invincible Except I wasn't... Every time I glided a tool across my arms or my thighs or my stomach I was shoveling myself into a deeper hole And while I was at the bottom Someone was at the top Filling it in, not knowing that someone... That I was inside of it. As I cried tears of hurt With the person who cared, Someone handed me down a ladder. But I had to choose to climb out I had to decide if I wanted to stay in darkness Or release myself to the light... not the bad light that you see as you die but the good light you see when you discover that you are noticed and you are loved Because isn't that why this whole thing started Because I felt invisible Because I was not just one of many but I was the last of many Self harm is a trap That wraps you up in the cold But you never get fully warmed Because you're always losing blood. I'm three months separated From the act of self-hatred But I'm always just three steps away From being right there again. Strength. Determination. Love. Self Love. Those are the things that keep me in check. Mother, Brothers, Friends, Students Those are the people that keep me safe And warm... the real warm Not the fake warm that comes from being wrapped up In a nice thick blanket. But the real warm That could make your heart swell Even when you're alone.
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Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 10:25 PM UTC
Three Months
11.22.18 - 2.22.19 This week marks three months gone of thousands of months I plan to live The day I gave myself to the comfort of my True Father instead of to the discomfort Of a Blade. I now ignore that sense of lust for the sight of my own blood the addiction I found in spreading lies across my arms I've given up the sense of calm I found in watching my skin heal again Reminding me that I was utterly human yet somehow invincible Except I wasn't... Every time I glided a tool across my arms or my thighs or my stomach I was shoveling myself into a deeper hole And while I was at the bottom Someone was at the top Filling it in, not knowing that someone... That I was inside of it. As I cried tears of hurt With the person who cared, Someone handed me down a ladder. But I had to choose to climb out I had to decide if I wanted to stay in darkness Or release myself to the light... not the bad light that you see as you die but the good light you see when you discover that you are noticed and you are loved Because isn't that why this whole thing started Because I felt invisible Because I was not just one of many but I was the last of many Self harm is a trap That wraps you up in the cold But you never get fully warmed Because you're always losing blood. I'm three months separated From the act of self-hatred But I'm always just three steps away From being right there again. Strength. Determination. Love. Self Love. Those are the things that keep me in check. Mother, Brothers, Friends, Students Those are the people that keep me safe And warm... the real warm Not the fake warm that comes from being wrapped up In a nice thick blanket. But the real warm That could make your heart swell Even when you're alone.
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