It’s as simple as that. When you breathe, my skin crawls from my body in an attempt to drag down the street. I hear your screech of a voice, and my toenails curl upward. With every step you take, my eyelids burn. I am me, and you are me, and I hate you.
There are so many reasons to be grateful for the lives we all have. There are also so many beautiful things that happen when you embrace your mistakes, rather than run from them. Sadly, I tend to forget this. My pretentious-self somehow decided in the last few years of my life that snobbish, self-centered trash was bound to be my density. And thus, it was so ( and is so).
I would like to believe I am funny (though I know, I’m not). I would like to believe the seven double chins I have displaced below my neck are cute. I mean, squishy is adorable, right? ( Maybe on a Siamese or Rottweiler, but not on me, I promise).
Redeemable qualities? Miss me with that.
I have lied to my closest of friends so often that I normally can’t see the already thin line that I drew for my lies. I don’t know what’s real, and not in the cool psychological way. I just honestly cannot ever tell what’s going on.
Sometimes, the existential rage rooted in my bones is shown in forms of me being rude, or maybe not taking the time to actually be a real human, with humanity, you know? It sucks, but it happens.
And all of this is why I just cannot wrap my head around the idea of ever hating anyone, besides myself. I just, I understand why people are bad sometimes. It is a thing that I too get lost in, and I need to work on it.
Existing has become a real hassle, but hey, I’m still kicking, right?
Right?
God, I don’t want to exist sometimes.(Geez, what an edge lord, huh.)
I keep waiting for that day. The day my life changes. The day I wake up and breathe in atmosphere instead of overworked oxygen. The day my feet float instead of trample. I am waiting for my bad poetry to mean something, waiting for my eloquence to be elegant and humble. I am so ready for college, and not just because I want to grow up. I don’t, technically.
I just want movement, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me, for the most part, sane.
I love everything about this. This especially being how you use the words that no one else ever does in comparison/metaphor/simile. It is a really nice addition to your poetry/prose, and it holds the promise of a distinct style. I like reading your pieces because they flow really nicely and I just want to frame them and look at the words, like, your works are that good.
🙂
I really like the rawness of this. I love the wording and everything you put into it. I love the points you make and what you say. I honestly just really like it.
Wow, really insightful. To your thoughts and to others who share your perspective. The first paragraph was very relatable; I used to get that skin-crawling feeling around a lot of people, and still do some times. But yeah? Like, I’ve had this like legitimate conscious lately that questions what I’m about to do/say and then after, touches on the possible repercussions. I don’t know really how to explain it, which is kind of the sense I got from your voice in this piece. Still very nice!
This is honest and true and I relate to it. Thank you for being real for just long enough to write this.
Agreed.
i really appreciate the candor of this post and it’s honestly Such a Mood. i’m waiting for that day too, and it’ll get here eventually
I reaally love this piece, whatever it is (good). And I absolutely love the last bit. It is like the whole piece you are holding your breath and you reach the last bit; then you can finally breathe. It is sort of a closure.