the lakes @an-eldest-daughter - Tumblr Blog

a fix that's not coming or a fix that tears layers it's not romanticising is a defense it's a coping mechanism is another

it's a vice for some killing oneself is better for others it's relatable for others it's relapse for me

~cns.

doing things because we love doing them

the things people love to do -- paint, write, draw, create, tell stories, build, and everything else and more -- are no longer done because they simply love to. they're all skill sets now.

let us go back to some life where we can do what we love because we love to without having to get better at them

your cigarette burns

your heartless ignorance

your narcissistic ego

your family that was never mine

i would burn your shirts now if i could

i ignore all news of you because i can

i hate you with all the passion

my family passed down to me

but you’re still here.

your handprints

your shouts

your escalated anger

your disrespect of space

that i still haven’t let go of

that still make me anxious

that still make me flinch

that i still try to scrub off

but you’re still here.

i hate being a writer

i hate that my best writings come from tears and anxiety attacks. i hate that it makes me want pain so that i can write. i hate that sometimes just sharing what i write is not enough. i hate that sometimes i need people to respond to feel like its good enough. i hate that i actually want people to judge what i write. i hate that there are writers who can write in ways i want to but never can.

i hate that i am writing in ways that my younger self never could so i have to love it because she probably would.

but i love doing what i love.

i love writing. i love being able to put pen to paper. i love being able to put words to the things i think. i love writing and finally being able to breathe. i love writing things i will never say out loud. i love writing down what i love about life.

i love what i hate being.

humans being humans

sharing their excitement with their social group when the first rain of the year arrives. displaying things they have created because of excitement with no ulterior thoughts or intensions. pure hearted displays of excitement without anyone to put it out.

feeling simple pure happiness on seeing a pretty part of nature. being around people who can make breathing easier because they are simply that comfortable to be with. happiness showing through when they do something they love.

does the wind follow your mood? i don't think so. but lately it seems to. the little breeze blowing your dress around your ankles when you cheerfully skip and walk about waiting for spring. the wind blowing your hair back as you walk on the footpath so that you don't have to worry about it.

the wind blowing the smoke away from your window at night and perhaps keeping those coping habits a secret? the wind keeping the sound of your tears muffled. the wind drying the tears you did not realise were pouring as you take a walk to clear your head and perhaps - to heal.

sometimes the wind picks for me. picks my moods and emotions and decides what i feel or don't. and i let it. as a poet, i let the wind bring my emotions to me - so that i can bring them to you.

smoke in secrecy herbs burnt delicately rested mentally burnt out physically

blurred window panes on the floor- broken chains heart saved from pain but lungs forced to strain

there have been times i've wanted to die, too. but i'm the same as you. i laid down for so long that my stomach started getting hungry

alice in borderland

a mental spiral is a spiral staircase.

you start wandering at the top, and just like alice, you're curious and you go down the rabbit hole, but look! stairs -- a spiral staircase that keeps going and going and the light does not get dimmer it just glows warmly - invitingly.

you go down one turn and reach a landing. your happy memories with everyone. you want to see more you go down another turn, and you find the bittersweet memories. why are they bitter? i don't know, lets take another turn to find out. oh this was why, you find the reasons on the next landing.

but whatever brought all this on? you keep going down and find the reason behind the reason behind the bitter of the bittersweet memory. i'm wading through a wreck now, a wreck i made in my mind when i couldn't take it anymore. and now i'm back in the middle of it all. but i don't want to leave. why do i find comfort in this more the weight of everything feels like a heavy blanket that suffocates but also a comforting hug holding me home.

and just like that, i'm at the bottom of the staircase, going through old memories, feeling old feelings and i can see you back the top waiting for me. i'm sorry you have to help me out again.

its almost spring but i'm not seeing a new beginning for me. can you wait for me too? winter come back for a little longer so that i can rest easy without having to match everyone's timelines and still exist.

does anyone else know how to respond to the age old question of how are you? the evergreen response of fine thank you how are you, is tried and true.

what about days when i cannot speak because i'm afraid someone might hear the hoarse voice and guess i was silently crying and screaming all night. and nobody heard a thing because my one constant my pillow that has absorbed all the sounds and tears over the years silenced the sound of my crying another time.

the funniest thing is that, we love being anonymous when talking about feelings that will most likely not be accepted. but then when i write about it, and someone says its beautiful, i feel validated even if its not my feelings that they find beautiful.

its the art that comes out of those feelings.

how long does a person keep thinking they want to cry but nothing pushes them over the edge? so those tears stay in their eyes, teetering on the edge, so close but unable to take a step further.

just like her, one foot on the edge, balancing her entire weight on that one foot. her other foot ready to be raised, and then raised, but frozen. not frozen in fear. but frozen because time stopped moving for her. the concept no longer mattered. did she care? did she ever care about the consequences?

she can remember those tears that were so close to the edge but never fell. they caused her so much pain. the lump in her throat, the pain in her chest, unable to breathe, unable to think straight, unable to take a deep breath for clear thoughts. frozen just like her. on that edge.

just like those tears, she too causing pain because she never had that one trigger to move over the edge. but staying there, frozen, no breaths, no thoughts.

this is turning into somewhere i rant. maybe its stupid, but i can't think of anywhere else i can do this anonymously. and i don't want to have to create and manage another account somewhere because i keep making the mistake of associating myself with the account. i'm no celebrity but being anonymous gives you the freedom to say what you want without the worry of someone finding it and wondering about it and asking you about it and knowing everything about you.

people who know you won't just listen anymore, not to me anyways. they have their opinions about me. their knowledge of things in my life and will try to justify my feelings or else just tell me its because of one thing or another and i cannot dispute their words because i know that's not the reason, but i don't know the reason, so what do i say?

what do i say? what do i say to them? what do i say when i have nothing to say that will give them the satisfaction their own reasoning gives them? what do isay? what do i say?

journaling does not help. ranting sometimes does, but i don't want to endlessly bother someone when i'm not feeling good. writing makes me feel like i'm just focusing on the bad instead of the good. and i want to focus on the good. on the way the sun looked in the garden. the way the fog made everything look so pretty at sunset. the way my food tasted good at dinner.

how do you cry in a healthy way? is it possible to cry without beating yourself up for being so weak that you start crying over nothing...

what do you do when you're too overwhelmed to move?

do you journal or watch youtube videos? do you listen to music and dance or lie in bed crying? do you do something impulsive or curl up into a ball in a corner of your room?

its really difficult to even pick up a journal and pen to write. to choose a song to dance to. to move from a curled up position on the floor. staying still is a must but then until how long is it alright to stay still

#overwhelmed #journal #brain dump #thoughts dump #talking it out #thinking out loud #what do you do

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