Me/Ja/Ich

Quiet, calm, withdrawn, and somewhat bloodthirsty young man.

[behindthedeadcorner]

Happiness

It's a different kind of lonely when you don't fit in. You know it's not really your fault, and you can't do anything about it. Yeah, you can, you can change and act like one of them, but then you'll have to avoid all the reflections and mirrors, too disgusted to look at that thing those people call you. It isn't you, that disgusting, distorted, bizarre, and eccentric face, it's smiling back at you. Only feeling you get while looking at that godforsaken brute; it's unhealthy, it's making you sick to your stomach.

It's not you.

It shouldn't be you.

But, it is.

Because you are too scared.

Too frightened to be alone, to be called different.

So are you happy now? Satisfied?

Being called something you aren't. BEING something you aren't.

Are you happy now that you aren't alone anymore?

Surrounded by everyone forbye yourself.

-Author

[perfectquote]

“I might not be in love, but I’m in like. I’m in serious like.”

— Nicola Yoon, Everything, Everything

[behindthedeadcorner]

Why are you quiet? Are you mad?

Why are you not talking? What did I do?

Please come back! I need you!

I never felt this loved before!

I never laughed so much before!

Please...

Do not leave me,

Perhaps you do not need me,

Like I need you.

My soul has been aching for this type of love

it wanted understanding, it wanted love.

So why are you,

after you fed and watered my soul...

Why are you leaving me?

For I will be thirsty again,

And I will be hungry again...

- Author

[behindthedeadcorner]

There is blood on my hands

Blood on your head,

People cheer, they are happy.

I look at your mother.

The only person that was crying in pain rather than happiness.

And I think to myself, why the bother?

Did someone really brainwash that poor child of hers?

Who was just hours ago yelling to others,

Kneading their brains into what he wants them to believe, into what he wants them to know.

So why is he crying now? On that tree he is nailed on, begging the peope who laughed and mocked...

'Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.'

- Author

[werenotreallystrangers]

[behindthedeadcorner]

And who are You? Oh so mighty,

Powerful

Angry one?

Who are You to tell me what cannot and can I do?

For You I am nothing but the dust in the wind.

And for myself I am the one who can and who will.

Why should I pray and beg and scream

And yell for You to hear me,

When You do not even hear those who love You the most...

-Author

[feral-ballad]

Andrew McMillan, from Pandemonium; “swan”

[Text ID: “mother don’t eat me / mother I’m trying so hard / to get better”]

[sonofsol-deactivated20241222]

Talking to the moon.

I would much rather talk to the sun

The moon is constantly changing

Conversations are never the same

The sun is constant

No matter the weather

You know that everyday he rises

You remind me of the moon

[davyspoetryjournal]

when will you notice

that I’ve been here all along

waiting sincerely for you

even when you never looked at me the way I looked at you

- divine

[literary-lesbianism]

Seasick

Wake up.

Stumble through the day,

too sleep-deprived to think.

That’s the goal.

Act in the role of a human,

the person you ought to really be,

but who is somehow missing

and has always been.

Go to bed.

Try not to wonder

what you lived for today.

Try not to

Try

Try not to think.

The pills will help with that,

Until they won’t.

Ignore the ocean in your chest and stomach,

the waves slapping your insides

relentlessly,

painfully.

It is high tide now.

Try to sleep,

and wait until morning,

and begin again

and again

and again,

and pretend you can bear it.

[perfectquote]

“I don’t think all writers are sad”, she said. “I think it’s the other way around - all sad people write.”

— Lang Leav, Love & Misadventure

[behindthedeadcorner]

Coldness in warmth.

Since I had my first friends, I was... weird.

I could laugh and joke, discuss and talk, but...

But there was always something, between me and them.

There was always something, holding me back from loving the moment.

Some kind of brick wall that no one could ever break. It's cold, thick and heavy. I don't even notice how thick it is until my friends' voices become just a muffled scream. I don't notice how cold and heavy it is until it's surrounding me and blocking my view, its coldness expanding in my lungs like needles in my skin.

And I scream, and I shout, and I yell, and I try to be heard, but there is nothing, and I mean nothing, I can do.

Because the wall is too cold, thick, and heavy.

And it's cold and it's lonely and it's hard.

But the wall keeps me from saying that.

Because even though I found coldness in it, it found warmth in me.

-Author

[behindthedeadcorner]

And I wanted to support you

I wanted to clap my hands and cheer on you

But how can I,

When I know I'll be left alone

I'd be spit in the dark hole of existence, crawling my way out screaming for help dying because of the pain.

Because of the pain I gave myself when I wanted to be a good friend.

So where are you now

When I need your support

When I need someone to clap their hands and cheer on me?

Where are you now, when I finally crawled out of the hole.

Alone.

- Author