Fossilized Potato

• she/her • 22 • indian

[timberfigure]

I have always loved people in a way that would allow them to tear me apart. it took me far too long to realize I should stop loving people who are willing to do that to me.

[alwaysgratefullll]

Its the million different sunsets and all the billion different kinds of beauty.

Its that self loath I've acquainted before.

How we all get old and wrinkled, and how we all die in regret. Because the opportunities not taken always weigh heavier than the ones we take.

[alwaysgratefullll]

Sometimes, I feel a need to cry so hard I can feel it in my ribs. I feel like the real me is punching my tear glands to give out under the pressure Every waking second on those days I feel the pressure and I live despite it. Do I cry? Somedays. And do I get better? Most days.

[alwaysgratefullll]

not the same addiction

It’s in the way of you falling into the same traps you crawled your way out of, it’s in the way you seek the patterns which almost destroyed you, it’s in the way you try so hard to recreate the situations just to feel what they make you feel. These needs, these desperations you have that make you get attracted to people you know won’t treat you well, these desires that make you want to crave abuse so the pain they’ll inflict on you outside will overshadow the hurt you feel inside. It’s in the way you managed to survive your trauma but couldn’t go on your life without it, so you push yourself to come in the same situations, stay in the same situations, live in the same house, and wait for the same doom you’ve always known.

There’s rehab for the alcoholics, there’s therapy for the people with suffering, but where do we go when the trouble is our addiction to pain? When we’ve known pain longer than we’ve ever known happiness? When it’s pain that makes us feel at home? Where do we go when it’s pain that makes us happy and its pain that hurts us?

Where do we go when pain has been in our lives for so long, it’s grown veins around our heart, and to move is to feel it there but if we don’t, it’ll tighten its hold and we’ll be gone. Where do we go? Who do we ask for? Which street has the clinic for the people who fell in love with their own demise? What do I Google to know if I have the standard symptoms? Or am I just faking it for dramatic invention?

And because my addiction isn’t what you thought, does it not qualify for needing help?

[alwaysgratefullll]

Hmm

I want ppl to know me as “the girl who does A” or “the girl who’s a big XYZ fan” or “the girl who always has Z with her” like someone with anything that others’ with complete certainty and trust can vouch on my predictability. But I also want to be able to walk out of my home one day with not the thing they had associated with me. I want to be associated (or perceived, for that matter) but I don’t want it to become a limiting factor which could restrain my movements. I don’t want to wake up one day with a desire to bring a change in me, only to feel like it I changed, I’ll become unknown to the people I had build my persona around, and I also don’t want to sleep overthinking “what will they think of me if i changed this about me? Will they even think of me if I changed myself?”

I want the trusted certainty and the predictable familiarity but without the constraint of stagnancy and without the chains that tie me to the thing that I’m associated with. I want to be known but I want to never stay the same.

I want to have roots but I don’t want to be a tree that never moves.

[ponchopeligroso]

every single person you know has something in their life and past that is probably worth collapsing to the ground in an uncontrollably sobbing heap over, so be nice to each other and tell good jokes

[alwaysgratefullll]

Yk the kind of love that doesn’t need a kiss to know they are lovers, in fact. The kind of love you can feel in a single glimpse of them. The kind of love that comes through the curtains of lazy summer afternoons and stays through the warm blankets of winter mornings. The kind that doesn’t need a confession. The kind that just comes into existence. The kind that really always was.

Yes, that one.

[alwaysgratefullll]

Yk, statistically speaking i havent seen many trauma bonded friends/lovers stay together for long

Do you think its bcoz the trauma was too much to handle btw them?

Or maybe it was more connected to the fact that they just couldnt imagine the person as this complete vessel where they could put their love in when they saw the cracks all too clearly?

Or maybe it was more of a “i have enough of my shit i cant deal w yours too” thingy

I think it always boiled down to the third, everyone needs to figure out their own shit before they help someone else.

[alwaysgratefullll]

I was trying to be heartfelt and geniusely sad, but I just made a shitload of typos in the post. But if you think I’m going to embarrassed then you’re wrong. I’m passed that

[alwaysgratefullll]

Sometimes I wonder if this was the one I was actually supposed to wait so much for. But then I think there’s always the first earning in your bank account. The first is always a hard one, but you’ll grt to the good one now, one person sooner.

[alwaysgratefullll]

"Do u believe in stars?"I asked, as I sipped on my honey water. It was a little past midnight but we both had been sitting in silence for so long I didn't want to get up and sleep.

"Technically speaking, I do see them every night so they are sort of my pals from a distance.." He says, with a grin.

It's hard to believe that I met this marvelous human just a week ago. I laugh in response and continue,

"No, like in the myth of stars. The one where kids are told that whoever is taken from them are turned into stars to guide them and keep an eye on them and help them for ever? It makes sense in some parts to me, maybe because we are also in some way made up of star dust only, so we go full circle and live as stars for another millenium?" I look at the stars then, those glistening far away stars.

"Well, no. I mean why would you want to believe in a myth which makes it clear that your life is actually not your own but a life made for someone else, like you were born to help someone else and not becouse you had something in you to express?

"Imagine, we die and to enter this afterlife we got to climb this gazillion stairs and who gets tired or calls it quit in the middle, means they still have something holding them down and making it harder for them to climb, sorts of like they have something left they need to do and so they got to do another human life and try again. And the ones with everything behind and done feels lighter and gets through all the steps easily, they leave all this human-ness behind and have their hit at the afterlife. That's what I think, do you believe in stars bdw?" He turns to me with curiosity and sips on his own honey water.

Excerpt I'd never use

[alwaysgratefullll]

To wait for them, and find them waiting for you, too

To fall in love, and to be passionate

To find people who make 5 mins feel like 5 hours and yet so short

To eat and to laugh and to 

.

.

.

Like a fool, i realised i didnt have much time left.

Is this what feels to be human?

[alwaysgratefullll]

Why is it easy to write when I am sad?

Is it because being happy is easy to explain understand and know but when you are sad you need to explain the ‘why’ or else, nobody will get it, or is it because it is sadness- so inherently we feel the need to make it aesthetic or else, we’ll feel like we are wasting our time, our life.

Is it because sadness brings out our need to be alone, pushes forth our wish for someone to see us and go- it’s okay I know what’s your feeling, I understand, I’m here for you.

-sheron

[alwaysgratefullll]

[unreadable]

[alwaysgratefullll]

Wherever I put my love, it seems to burn everything around it. So inflammable it ruined everything, the brightness attracted me to some of my best memories, but the heat made them all leave so quickly. It's like I love, I cause damage – both are synonyms if not just one form of another. My love is fatal, and I am left to repent for all the empty place in my heart because of all the wrong way I've been her accomplice that’s left me where I am tonight. I’m tired of letting in people because they thought they would be the one to handle my flames. I am tired of being the one they leave behind. I’m tired. I am so tired.

[alwaysgratefullll]

Grocery list but it’s 02.36 am and I’m broke,

here’s what I want:

i. the ability to say all the right words, so i

wouldn’t know what misunderstanding means.

for the words to be soft and delicate,

they slip right through my mouth.

for them to convey exactly what I wish to speak

in a way

that even a plant grown out of a sidewalk,

would not get stepped over, or run down.

here’s what I want:

ii. a case for my broken phone, some coke, and a lip balm, for my chapped lips.

iii. i want the height of a person who never looks down on others,

and a heart that can bear all the pain and still pumps hard.

iv. i want the eyes that won’t water, a vision so bright that

even the memory of you will fade away.

but even more, i want you to come back.

here is what I want (really):

for you to be the one who gets my grocery all the time -

and it's entitled, sorry, and it’s selfish, i know.

but what I mean is-

i hope you always be the one who gets me grocery.

maybe some days a rose added in the list

i hope you’d always get me what i need,

and maybe add some feelings by dozen,

when needed.

//inspired by one of the poem i read here on tumblr, I can’t find it again but i wish i could <3