[ivynightshade]

fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘i am tired of making a religion out of my suffering’.

[text id: i am too little, and too much, and never enough.]

[sa-dnesss]

nobody talks about the fact that you can have all this crazy shit in your head, and want to open up and talk about your feelings but no matter what, you just can't make out the right words and properly put your thoughts and emotions into words

[athingofconvenience]

Tell me I’m not the only one who feels like happiness was made for other people but not for me

[athingofconvenience]

I don’t care who you are, you’ll never hate me as much as I do.

[athingofconvenience]

Sometimes I really struggle to see my worth amongst others. I don’t really know why I have friends or sometimes if I even actually have friends. I don’t know what anyone gets out of knowing me.

[athingofconvenience]

Some nights I struggle with my sense of disconnection.

Sometimes I get so caught up in my positive interactions that I feel like I have friends, like I belong, like I’m worth knowing. Later, when I find no one to turn to, I am forced to confront the truth: I am an outsider.

I do not fit the way others do. The more I recognize it, the harder it is to “act normal” in social settings. The more I think about it in every silent moment. The more awkward I become.

I am confident that none of this will even make sense to anyone else. I can’t seem to find words to paint the emotional mural I feel.

Perhaps this is what a ghost would feel. So close to the real world, but never able to truly belong.

[athingofconvenience]

Still feels exactly the same

[athingofconvenience]

Is there anything worse than the feeling of hearing “oh HERE WE GO” when you finally speak up about something bothering you after enduring the behavior for hours

[athingofconvenience]

[athingofconvenience]

The sound of the light misting rain landing on fallen leaves

The lazy drip, drip, drip from the gutter

A symphony of frogs and crickets, singing so many harmonies

Tires spinning in wet pavement, muffling the engine’s strain of acceleration

The click of my lighter followed but the softest crackle at the end of my joint

Searching for sound to drown out the caterwauling of my mind

[athingofconvenience]

I’m overwhelmed by a sudden increase in my desperation for validation. It crept from the shadows, stalking, only to overtake its victim.

I am disgusted by it’s stronghold, furthering the self loathing I find that it’s infected me with.

[athingofconvenience]

Some nights I struggle with my sense of disconnection.

Sometimes I get so caught up in my positive interactions that I feel like I have friends, like I belong, like I’m worth knowing. Later, when I find no one to turn to, I am forced to confront the truth: I am an outsider.

I do not fit the way others do. The more I recognize it, the harder it is to “act normal” in social settings. The more I think about it in every silent moment. The more awkward I become.

I am confident that none of this will even make sense to anyone else. I can’t seem to find words to paint the emotional mural I feel.

Perhaps this is what a ghost would feel. So close to the real world, but never able to truly belong.

[athingofconvenience]

“You only said no because you were hurting” vs “we don’t have to if you hurt, it’s okay”

Unexpected ways trauma knocks the wind out of you

Your partner unknowingly recites the opposite of an excuse someone used to rape you.

[athingofconvenience]

I am the whirlpool descending the cold pipes of your bathroom sink.

I am the insect colliding with your windshield.

I am the crack in the asphalt giving way to potholes.

I am the residue of the gum adhered to the bottom of your shoe that you just can’t get off.

I am the bridge lift when time is of the essence.

[athingofconvenience]

You can’t love me & leave me with the same breath…

[feministism]

[athingofconvenience]

Thoughts of depression seem always to conjure imagery of water. Laying supine in the coarse sand, as the tide plays with my hair and the salt of the sea finds kinship in the tears on my face. Violent waves pummeling a form as it fights to find the surface. Raindrops slowly, haphazardly gliding down the length of an unlit window.

Depression is liquid in the way it flows into all of my spaces. I am simply an ornate decanter. Cool and slick, depression pours into me, reaching every nook, every cranny. It flows down my arms to fill my fingers, down my legs to fill my toes.

Perhaps that’s why it feels so heavy.

[athingofconvenience]

My favorite thing about anxiety, is when you’re super anxious about something, but you’re trying to work on your anxiety, so you decide not to indulge it. But what you’re anxious about, is that you’re perception of things is skewed. So you want to talk to a friend about it. But you don’t want to indulge that anxiety and give it legs. But then your anxiety is whispering in your ear that your perception of things maybe *isn’t* skewed… maybe it’s real… so maybe you should talk about it… but then people think you’re crazy. So you sit & swirl in this sinkhole of misery.