The Nervous Duck Writes

Terra-Lynne. 25. Single. Queer. Fangirl. Foodie. Workaholic. City of Trees.  All writing posted here is mine unless otherwise note. All writing is based on truth unless tagged fiction

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Ghost Town

This body of mine is a ghost town. All of the corners that were once filled with something good and pure. Somethinge bright. Something that gave me hope... are now haunted. Too many times of trying and failing. Sometimes now matter how many good and wonderful things you do, you can't keep the darkness at bay. Because all of the grief seeps its way like black goo into the good and pure of the soul. Leeching and polluting with ghosts. Ghosts that have names like "heartbreak" and "sorrow" and "fuck up" and "anxiety". No matter how many times you salt and burn the pieces in the soul that linger, tying these ghosts to you, they keep coming back. The memories. The pain. In dreams, In reality. There is no escaping. It is etched into your very bones. Forever a part of you and tainting you. Soon before you realize what's even happening you don't recognize the person staring back at you.

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Crash

I feel my mind sl i p p i n g like there's a pull and draw to take down this confident happy glowing woman that I became on my own pulling myself up by the boot straps continuing on when I didnt think I could anymore the things I love the things I'm good at suddenly becoming gray where there used to be brigh flashy colors I look inside and I dont recognize me or whats left of me I'm drowing beneth the weight of my insecurities my failures knowing its all going to come crashing down It always does.

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Beautiful Life

I see glimpses into your world and it draws me in like a moth to a flame. Curiouser& curisouer. My memory flickers with patchy images. feelings. half-truths. of what we should have could have would have been- become- but never were. It was over before it began. I feel this ache, burning raw& open, &exposed thing in my bones. Filling me up. It tastes like destiny. It tastes like hope. It tastes like it did when your lips touched mine for the first time. Im peering into your beautiful life, this creation all your own &imdesperate to be a part of it. I look at you and I see the version of myself that I've always wanted to be. I look at you and I think What if every. step. has led me to here: to this crossroads of embracing who I am instead of what I should be.

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Musings

I remember having a muse. Craving every detail of their movement. Seeking it out like heat. Trying to capture the feeling they instilled in you in that moment of observation through the retelling, re-writing of said experience. A muse is not defined by who or what or when. It can be found anywhere if you let yourself open up to the idea.

[archiveforthenervousduck]

This post started out at some feeble attempt at poetry. About feeling deeper and finding inspiration and how life gets busy and find yourself not going to that place anymore. That place where your heart lies. Where your secrets lie. Where all things you don't even realize you are thinking and feeling lies. Until I realized that I don't really remember what that's like. It's been so. long. I remember when the creativity poured out of me. I breathed it and lived it and needed it. It took over my everyday life. But now somehow I find myself trying to retrace my steps like the Brother's Grimm Hansel and Gretel. The wicked witch who kept me locked away goes by the name of life. Responsibility. Growning older. And at the brink of 25, I find myself suddenly, accutely aware of the fact that time is not slowing down. That I will, in fact, have more birthdays and get more grey hair. I will remember less and less what it felt like to stay up late each night, pouring my heart out to strangers I had never met before and yet felt closer to me than my own family. That time was precious. Oh what I would give for one more day.

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Together

It’s a rare occasion but sometimes, I let myself dream of you. I dream of us. I dream there is an us. That’s we’re dysfunctionally normal. You drive me crazy and I drive you crazy but at the end of the day our passion and loyalty to each other out weighs everything else. And then reality turns my perfect, precious dream into a strange place between what’s real and what’s not. I start reading too much into the little smiles, lingering looks, giggles, that escape from your precious face. I start letting myself believe that it’s possible. That we could end up together, forever, husband and wife. When I no damn well that’s totally impossible and stupid and we would probably kill one another. Our love would be a disaster. And yet the heart wants what the heart wants. Sometimes I think maybe I’ve dreamed this whole thing. That you didn’t kiss me on the neck while your girlfriend was sleeping in the next room. That you didn’t lean close to me at the poker table and rest your hand on my thigh. That you didn’t hold hands with me while we were driving back from a late night shift. That we didn’t hook up. Twice. The night of your birthday. But then I realize all of that really did happen. And it makes me want to be hopeful. It makes me think that there’s a chance we could be happy together. Together. Hm. What a strange word. 

[archiveforthenervousduck]

every piece of criticism or feedback is detrimental to my mental stability. at the slightest wrong move, wrong word, wrong tone, wrong response i can be sent into a tailspin. thoughts filled with unworthy, useless, stupid, ugly, not good enough. i wish i was mentally normal.

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Self Evaulation

Failure Fucking useless and worthless Absoulutely cannot do anything right Impossible to get along with Looks like shit most all the time Unworthy of love Ridiculously incapable Effort is use

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Journal Entry

You dont get to say it now. Not after all this time. I did what you asked. I did what i thought would make you happy. But now that youve have time to think, had time to process you decide its not what you want. You decide now it's not good enough. Its not fair. You dont get to say that now. It will never be enough for you. Just like how you said it was for your mother. You said you fight not to be that way but it seems like youre not fighting enough because its the same old song and dance. If it never changes it never changes.

[un-rooted]

one day it stops hurting. one day you’re driving home with the windows down after an early spring shower, a pop song playing softly on the radio, the sunset creamsicle orange in your rearview mirror, and you feel a sense of warmth spreading through you. it’s the vague hint that summer is almost here, that something is blooming within you. it’s the little nudge at your heart, the little voice whispering ‘you thought you could only feel this with him,’ and you realize with a sigh, and a hand run through your hair, it’s never felt so good to be wrong.

8:04 pm, Tuesday May 3 by KA (via un-rooted)

[lzlabs]

Song of My Heat

I don’t hear that song anymore breaking through the horizon in a fog whispered twilight that held the moon deaf now, the sounds that played to my heart that echoed like sighs of urgent lovers I’d love to waltz in the wind I’d love to love you again

[mgreywood-deactivated20200524]

What is that sound? That song coming from your lips? It’s you, your soul. And it is so very beautiful. Teach me, let me hear it and sing along. Perhaps we’ll find harmony.

Life, love, it’s all a song- © Michael Greywood Poetry-2016 (via mgreywood)

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Work to Fail

i've come to realize i wear this mask like it's my identity day after day i put it on before i walk out the door somenights it doesn't even come off sinking its way into my skin until i cant tell the difference between me and this career i am what i do it controls every decision i make i cant move forward cant let go of the past im in prepetual motion work hard work harder fail hard fail harder work to fail work harder to fail harder

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Shitty Poetry

today was one of those days the kind that make you want to set shit on fire the kind that make you want to create a big scene and scream and cry today was one of those days that i dread today was one of those days where it seems hopeless today was one of those days that you have nightmares about today was one of those days where i was over sensitive and over angry today was one of those days that always happen when it shouldnt just fuck it. fuck today.

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Desserted

I had forgotten why i had left this place i desserted one of the only places i truly felt myself. Every bit of the messiness of my mistakes my heart ache my happiness my love life my sex life all spilt ink on a blank canvas for strangers to enjoy. But i remembered today i divulged into the words i desserted here and they were filled with memories of him. I left to get rid of you to clean you out of my system but that was foolish thinking. Kidnapping the president would be easier than getting rid of you.

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Finding Home

This place feels like a worn in blanket the kind you pull out when you're sick or sad or watching your favorite Disney movie. I fall back into the same routine finding my voice again finding the rhythm of my fingers tapping against the keys the way i used to when it was 2am &the only thing that did make sense was that nothing made sense i left for a while but now i am back. Renewed and refreshed. This place is home.

[archiveforthenervousduck]

Love Blooms

It feels like a spring morning with floral perfume filling the air from new blooms baby birds chirping a light breeze making the hem of my dress tickle the back of my legs i look at you your smile your eyes and in a split second I'm swept away like the pollen off a flower, you look at me my heart flys through the air getting caught in the current of the influence you have over me i'd gladly let you sweep me off my feet for the rest of our lives.