#sadpeotry
All she ever wanted was love.
All she ever wanted was to belong to someone.
She tried, at least in her own understanding, to love this man.
She loved him so much that it stopped being love… and became obsession.
And I realized something: obsession doesn’t come alone.
It carries both the good traits, and the kind that make your own child resent you.
Now her husband is tired. Completely drained.
And she’s tired too, but in a different way.
She left yesterday, saying she’s never coming back.
She never had a loving family.
Her mother was married three times, and she swore her life would be different.
But her story taught me something,
Sometimes, when you resist something too hard…
you slowly become it
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 4:41 PM UTC
I feel
I feel it again,
this urge to sing.
Like something in me is waking up,
something I thought I lost.
I used to sing all the time.
It wasn’t just a habit, it was a dream.
I really believed I could become a musician.
But somewhere along the way, I changed.
Or maybe… I just stopped listening to that part of me.
Now I’m wondering,
can I still sing?
Or did I leave that version of myself behind?
Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 4:58 PM UTC
I smoke.
I admit it,
but my mom can never find out.
Because if she does,
everything will fall apart.
I know myself,
my habits, my ways.
She would break.
She would blame herself
for choices that are mine.
When people hear my story,
they blame her.
And maybe…
there are pieces of it
that belong to her too.
That’s the part I hate,
because I see it.
Because I feel it.
Because I can’t unsee it.
I would bend the world for her.
But I wonder…
would she ever bend for me?
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 4:14 PM UTC
I sit by my window, **** in my hand.
Two drags in,
maybe more. I’ve lost count.
This is the lowest I’ve ever felt.
So I search my memory for something softer,
and I find her.
The girl who sits in church every Sunday.
The one who sings like her voice is a prayer,
like God is actually listening.
I trusted Him with one thing.
Just one.
And somehow, I still ended up being tested,
and I failed.
Or maybe… He failed me.
My cousin sits across from me, laughing like the world hasn’t touched her.
Then she goes quiet.
She comes to sit beside me.
I’m already far away.
“The world is so unfair, right?” she says.
“I hate my life,” I reply.
She nods, like she understands too well.
“I hate Mom and Dad,” she whispers.
I look at her.
“I hate Dad the most. But… I hate Mom too.”
It sounds ugly out loud.
But also true.
“I hate her as much as I love her,” she says.
“Same,” I answer.
And we laugh,
because somehow, it’s ridiculous and real at the same time.
Dad… that’s a different story.
But then I tell her,
“One day, we’ll be mothers too.”
Maybe then we’ll understand
what broke them
before they ever broke us.
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 8:13 PM UTC
Colors
Even if my life has no color,
I will always paint yours in every shade
because I know what it feels like to live without color.
I know how broken a person becomes
when nothing is ever painted for them.
Ever since I was little,
I could tell the difference between real and fake colors.
I recognized fake smiles,
felt their emptiness before anyone said a word.
I understood what adults thought
children were too young to notice.
The strangest part is
I always saw the lies.
Every one of them.
Now I’m almost twenty,
and I still haven’t felt any color.
Maybe I’m too broken.
But how can someone who has felt nothing
be this shattered?
Mar 19
Mar 19, 2026 at 5:00 PM UTC