Living Fast & Dying Faster

- 25 - She/Her - Canada -

[2high-2cry]

Chronically ill, chill, and on a fuck ton of pills.

[2high-2cry]

My compassion is bloody.

My love, it knows not a single limit.

I have a heart, yes, but it does not beat for me.

My heart yearns to regulate anything, but itself.

Steadiness has never been a pace I’ve experienced, but rather, a distant delusion.

This tune, my body cannot fathom repeating, as it knows my heart is here to listen, but always off beat.

My compassion is bloody

Because I am covered in fire,

and a busy heart has no time to extinguish its flames,

Not while everyone else is so warm.

[2high-2cry]

I like when someone tells me to “rot in hell”, or that I’m “going to hell”. Simply because they don’t know my mind, body, and soul are already there!

[2high-2cry]

Ive been forced in a body,

a mind.

a life,

In constant mourning for My Life.

I’ve dissatisfied all of you,

with The Life you blatantly preferred.

Sorry.

[2high-2cry]

I crave the life my body thought it was to prepare me for

I miss the genuine smiles that came easy to my young heart

My body yearns for a future it was teased at

My brain hungry for knowledge it no longer has the energy to comprehend

The feeling of freedom lingers on my now sore fingers, itching for some form of escape

But my body,

My mind,

Have been condemned to my bed, anxious with the idea of a life worth living

A life I know I will never truly experience

[poetic--elixir]

“I am afraid of you. In loving me you hold a knife at my throat. In loving you I tell you exactly where to cut.”

[fatefuly]

[buonbella]

Caught you in my nets 🕸️🕸️🕸️

[angel-elputo]

[academic-vampire]

𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔭𝔥𝔬𝔫𝔢

[the-intuitive-heart-deactivated]

[maggotmuncher0]

sketch

[jibi-do]

[dogrotpdf]

how’s that house that raised you?

[reblogifyoucanseesexy]

[thoughtkick]

“Love never dies of a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness, errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds. It dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings, but never of a natural death.”

— Anais Nin

[rienafoutre]