words unsaid

pen-name Anonymous T. Rex | prompts

[anonymous-t-rex]

i'm sorry. for the things i've done, but even more so for those i haven't. every miss, every failure, every time i make you feel like you aren't the sun and the moon and the stars in my universe.

i'm not sure what to do with myself and that doubt is seeping towards you, but baby it's me.

it always will be.

you're the fucking galaxy.

[anonymous-t-rex]

why does it kill me that i can't be all you need? why does not being enough hurt so fucking bad? it's selfish and manipulative that i expect i could ever be everything to anyone. it's literally true that i'm not enough. no one person is. but it guts me every time you remind me that i'm not perfect in every way, that i'm human and flawed and that sometimes wanting something bad isn't enough. i can't just will everything okay this time and that threatens my very self-delusion of who i am.

i'm no good for you. just something when you've had nothing. but you don't deserve something. You deserve everything.

[anonymous-t-rex]

I want to tell you things.

That's...weird, for me. I don't usually want to be perceived, to take up space, it's safer not to. I'm embarrassed to say that...that I think that way, that I feel unsafe when I spread out. But I've been conditioned that way and I know it's safe that way and anything else is...unknown. And then I get in my head, I always get in my head and mess things up and I don't want to mess this up. Because I want to tell you things, you know? It's been a while since I've felt safe enough to do that. I probably won't even share this with you because I'm sure I seem crazy. And since I'm not then I can admit that I'm not sure if you like me. I just cannot know with enough confidence to satisfy my shit brain. Always doubting. Always. And you're so beautiful and kind and cool and I could never measure up. Why would you want me around? Unless I can offer you some value. Service. Gifts. Money. I know that sounds awful but I am so afraid to lose something I've come to love that feels so fragile. I bet your lips are so soft, your entire body, really, you're like a Renaissance painting. Sometimes I feel like people use me, and I don't always know that they're using me. But also they could NOT be using me. You probably aren't. You're a good person. Better than I thought people could even be.

[anonymous-t-rex]

i could tell you everything

but you don't want to hear a word.

[anonymous-t-rex]

I think the best parts of me

are the ones that seem inauthentic.

I want to make people smile,

I want to be kind and compassionate,

but that person in this world?

I wouldn't buy it either.

[anonymous-t-rex]

05.04.25, 1:34 pm

8,000 steps, thinking the whole time. Aching, because there’s this void inside me. Yearning for something more. It’s hard to be kind to yourself when you hate them.

Hate may be a strong word at this point - it fit before but I’m trying to be more compassionate, more understanding. And they had it rough. But they’re also the reason for this heartache. The things they did or didn’t do, the means they used to survive - I’m now feeling the fallout.

And I don’t blame them, but there is a part of me that resents them. I’m working on it. But for now, I’m trying to find other things, other reasons, other joys. Music, walking. They’re a distraction. They don’t heal this part of me. Writing, again, but it doesn’t feel terribly productive either.

I’m attempting to connect with the world. But, honestly, I was never very good at making friends. I’m not a sociable person. I don’t trust easily. I feel kind of disconnected in all elements of my life, like I’m floating on my own with thin, breakable strings tying me to reality: my marriage, my job, sometimes my family.

I’ve spent a decade ignoring the depth of my pain and problems and now that I’ve opened the door it’s suffocating, isolating, deep and dark and heavy.

I know that I’m in it, not through it. I know that this is the work. But, yea, this shit’s hard. Allegedly 20 sessions is supposed to “fix” me. I use that term loosely, but - 20 sessions and I won’t be…what I am. It doesn’t seem possible, but what do I know?

[anonymous-t-rex]

05.03.25, 5:23 pm

I’ve been trying to make connections with people. It’s not going great. No one wants to know me.

It really does make me doubt myself. Like, I think that I’m a person worth knowing, even with how little I value myself. And yet…maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m not worth knowing.

I don’t even know what makes someone worth knowing to the normal person. Pretty? Maybe. I’m not that. Thin? Nope. I’m smart and kind but none of that really matters if I don’t have the opportunity to share it.

And, honestly? Maybe I’m wrong about that too. I don’t know how I manage to delude myself that I’m amazing while also thinking I’m literally nothing.

I know that’s not true, blah blah blah. But I feel it. God, I just feel so… alone.

[anonymous-t-rex]

04.29.25, 6:20 pm

My partner says to write about my happiest moment, or a happy moment. I’m not sure I can manage to tell them the truth, it makes me feel so fucking pathetic: Nothing comes to mind.

That’s not to say I’ve never been happy, or never had happy moments. Practically every moment with them is happy, at least a little.

But for so long my very existence has just been…sad. Even when I’m happy, I’m still sad. And it’s fucking gutting to be honest about that, because any way you slice it, it aint good.

Either I’m being dramatic or fake or insincere or I’m legitimately so fucking pathetic that I’m perpetually sad. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t also joy, happiness, love.

Even at 16 when you had me backed against the wall I still managed to find the stars, the sky, the night and the fireflies. I always felt more at home in the darkness.

Honestly, maybe I still do. It’s like a warm sweater draped over my shoulders. Even the heaviness feels like home.

[anonymous-t-rex]

04.29.25, 5:36 pm

I feel restless today. Like, in all the worst ways. Needy, insecure, almost panicked. I don’t know why I feel so…bad.

Like, there’s no real reason for it. I’ve just felt kind of…off, since I replied to my therapist to kind of start talking about my trauma.

I just sent her a message, I don’t know if I should have, maybe I’m being too much, but… I don’t know.

I just want to keep moving or at least not feel, like, stuck, or whatever it is I’m feeling right now.

[anonymous-t-rex]

04.27.25, 10:02 pm

The way I feel right now is… painful. I don’t know if it’s from reopening these old wounds or something else entirely, but I feel – desperate.

Desperate to be seen, known, understood. But I still feel so alone. I don’t know how to get away from that. I feel like I’m spiraling a little, which is ridiculous, of course.

What have I got to spiral about? Because I’m getting nothing, no feedback, no understanding, no validation or comfort. This isn’t true, but I’m going to say it because I feel part of it intensely: no one cares.

No one cares about what happened or how it affects me, everyone has their own problems and their own concerns.

I have spent my entire life desperately trying not to be perceived, not to take up space, not to be a priority and now that’s exactly what I am. No one. Nothing. Just…an extra in the movie.

Maybe, maybe if I sleep I'll feel better tomorrow. Regardless, how I am now isn’t helping. Time for bed.

[anonymous-t-rex]

04.27.25, 12:55 pm

This is harder than I thought. The lack of reaction, the slower responses. It’s not any different than I expected, but I feel like I’m kind of flapping in the wind, like one of those inflatable wacky arm things.

I want some validation, some direction, something, but I feel like I’m not getting that. I think I’m just being impatient, truly. But if not, maybe I’ll have to switch it up? I don’t know.

I feel kind of bad. It’s that feeling, that recurring feeling: pressure in and behind my eyes, feeling like I’m going to cry or I want to cry, but that’s not something that I can actually do very often. I

t’s a little panicked, I think. Is it because I feel out of control, or something else? I feel like I need some kind of ‘you’re not crazy,’ like – ‘what happened to you was actually wrong. I need validation.

God, that feels…pathetic. It kind of hurts, too. I think they say it gets worse before it gets better. Maybe that’s what this is?

We’ve barely even covered anything, though. I don’t know. I guess I’ll just “trust the process” or whatever.

[anonymous-t-rex]

04.26.25, 3:41 pm

There’s this person inside me that…I don’t know what to call them, or how to share them, but… I’ve noticed them, I guess. For the first time in a long time, I’ve noticed them, still there. This person who sees good, who believes the best in people and the world around me.

I remember them, some. I remember them from the darkest times of my teenage years, trying to find the silver lining in everything, anything. I remember them from college, when I sought a fresh start. And I don’t know what to think of them, what to do with them.

Because, fuck, they’re sweet and kind and idealistic. They’re soft in a world where it’s so much safer to be hard. And while there are parts of them I love, there are also parts of them I dislike. They’re naive, foolish for an adult human in this world, embarrassingly so, sometimes. So they’ve been hidden, but they’re also integral to who I am…maybe they are who I am. This person that wants to see the good, that wants to experience and do nice things for people, that wants to believe that people are good inherently.

And it’s problematic, too. Someone who just looks for the good can’t see all of the bad. I don’t know. I guess I just wish I could be authentic without worrying that no one will understand, or that I’ll just be seen as…stupid, or fake. Because that kind of person does seem fake. Someone who is innocent, or…like, intentionally kind, or… I don’t know. I don’t know what about it seems so inauthentic. And I feel stupid even admitting it, you know? That there’s this innocent, vulnerable, kind part of me inside that is naive and trusting and… I don’t know. That kind of thing is foolish for adults, you know? I care too much about what other people think, that’s the real takeaway.

And behind that? I just want to be fucking loved, you know? Like… my partner loves me. But most people don’t actually see me. And if they did, what would they do, what would they think? I don’t want to be, like, infantilized, but I do have these very childlike outlooks and, I don’t know, desires? Needs? Probably trying to make up for what I didn’t get as a kid, yada yada psychology. I guess I just wish this was a world where that person could exist without being exploited or judged or…I don’t know, all of the bad things.

And then I just feel stupid for saying that. Like, being an idealist in this world is stupid, naive, childlike. But there is a part of me that still has that wonder, that curiosity, that…innocence? See, that sounds stupid too! I don’t know how to say it, to represent myself in a way that doesn’t seem…out of touch, I guess. I think of when I wanted to skip Christmas presents and use the money to give to someone in need, instead - but we never did. I don’t know. The point is, I wanted to be a good person, a better person than I am. I wanted to bring more kindness into the world.

And when I got to college I did make attempts to do that, and it was received well enough, but it also felt…insincere, or at least like it was received as insincere? I don’t know. I’m just full of contradictory realities.

I wish I could be that vulnerable, open, genuine person and be received well. I wish I could be cared for and supported and get these needs met without it being…what it is. Stupid, pathetic, disingenuous. Maybe, with therapy, I can find a way.

Because even if I can move a little closer to that person…I think it would make me happier, you know? It’s just so…different from the person I am now - the person people see, I mean.

Sarcastic, closed off, strong, stoic…whatever. I’ve created this shell to protect that authentic me, and I don’t know if I can just remove it and let the real me shine. But I think maybe I’d like to try.

[anonymous-t-rex]

I just want to be something they choke on. When they try to devour me, eradicate my identity, I hope they fucking choke. I want to be stuck in their throat, holding tight and turning them red, I want to feel their last breath. Kind of like Hercules when he cut himself out of that monster. My heart hurts and my body is tired and my constitution is not what it once was. But I persist. I prepare. Universe willing, I succeed. But at the very worst, at least it’ll hurt on the way down.

[anonymous-t-rex]

happy birthday, grandpa.

if you were still alive, you'd be rejoicing. pleased to see a second term, proud that you helped him get there.

you would celebrate as he signed away my rights. you'd praise him for eradicating my identity.

they say you're in heaven now, watching down. are the angels crying at your side? do you still smile wide?

happy birthday, grandpa. here's to you and your america.

don't mind the tears.

[anonymous-t-rex]

In school they told us drugs were bad.

They also told us

that cops were good,

that we are all equal,

that hard work pays off.

i think getting high repairs a part of me

that all their lies broke.

It's nice to feel light, if only for a moment.

[anonymous-t-rex]

i can lean

into the pain

or into the frigid

numbness.

[anonymous-t-rex]

i scream &

you

do not hear me.