burnedastra

Queer. She/Her. 23 years old. French. Random Rambling. Primary blog @lytrc, but I post mainly on this one.

[jmfenner91]

Inktober Day 30 - Violin

[burnedastra]

Same time last year, you went full on ghost, the pain of it all being to unsuffurable and the shame to gigantic to bear. Now we're about to share a meal with your family

How peculiar

[burnedastra]

Pretty pretty boy

[burnedastra]

I am proud of myself cause yesterday I was at a party; his favorite song played and I ended up drinking is favorite drink for lack of options, I even talked abit about our situation with some friends. But i didn't reach out. Not to say I missed him while the alcoohol pounded through my brain. Not to say I'll wait however long was needed. Maybe it is going to be okay, weither we end up together or not. I think I'm truly going to be okay

[dumblr]

Choose the one who chooses you in a room full of people and not the one who wants you only when the room is empty.

[burnedastra]

He needs to choose himself for a little bit, heal and stop seeing himself in that awful way. I am hoping I would still be chosing him when he's ready, I really want to keep chosing him. And the tragic thing is I know he wanted to keep chosing me, if he was able

[burnedastra]

Je pleure quand c’est trop. Je pleure pour rien, je pleure pour tout. Je pleure pour l’enfant et l’adolescente qui refusait de laisser transparaitre quoi que ce soit. Je pleure pour chaque sentiment refoulé durant ses vingt-quatre premières années. Mais je pleure aussi de rire, de manière solaire, souvent, toujours dans l’excès et sans pouvoir m’arrêter. C’est là je pense une des plus grandes contradictions de mon moi paradoxale. Les larmes de joies me montent aussi facilement que mon dégout de celle de tristesse. Et pourtant les deux sont saines. Les deux soulagent. Les deux ont le mérite d’exister et le pouvoir d’exorcisme des sentiments trop forts, trop puissant pour être contenu dans l’étroitesse de mon être.

[burnedastra]

Needed You

There was a time when I needed you. A time when the mere thoughts of your absence made my heart go wild. A time when the idea of you leaving sank me into despair. Back then, I would have done anything to convince you to stay, to please you. I would have done anything to instill the proud spark in your eyes, to make you acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, I was worth something, anything. Back then, you were everything, and I was ready to turn myself into nothingness.

Now I get it. There was nothing I could have done. Nothing that could have made myself more gracious in your eyes. For you were always stuck on this unattainable delusion of what I was supposed to be. I was your perfect little project, I was supposed to fix every single one of your problems, wasn’t I? By simply being, I was supposed to heal you, fix you, gave you both the closure and the happy ending you desperately needed. But that’s not how things work, isn’t it? That’s not who I am, even if I pushed myself into that box, I never managed to fit in it. And therefore, I constantly felt like I wasn’t doing enough, or that I was too much, or that whatever I said – or omitted – it was never just quite right.

There was a time when I needed you, now I know that there was nothing for you to give me, for you were always too caught up in self-hatred to be able to give anything. Now I know that I fit elsewhere, far away from your container, and that I can fulfil myself perfectly.

[broken-star-deactivated20230207]

"Goodbye. Seven letters, one for every colour of the rainbow, one for every one of the seven seas, one for every wonder in the world, one for every note of music. Seven letters that can change someone's life. You know what's another seven-letter phrase that can change someone's life? It's Okay. Yet goodbye is all I ever hear, never It's Okay. Sometimes, people don't want you to leave, sometimes, all they want is the hear that they're not alone."

[burnedastra]

Funny Thing

It’s a funny thing, you know, how fast things can change. How one move, that doesn’t seem like much at the time – and honestly, they never do – can transfigure your story forever. How in one single instant, everything you know and believe in your soul can shake to its core. How one single breath can make all the difference between to opposite paths of your journey. And how sometimes, if you’re lucky enough, everything aligns just right so you get to experience it. Funny thing really, how with one glance, one smile, one touch, someone can become such a huge part of your story.

I don’t know if I ever really believed in fate you know. I am not even sure I like the idea. Not that pure random chances get a more sacred spot in my eyes, but sometimes, maybe everything feels like it’s too much not to be part of some higher plot. Maybe part of it is written somewhere, or maybe I just fantasize about it, the feeling becoming so overwhelming I can’t quite grasp the idea of it being due to simple coincidences. Because so much happened for all of this to happen. So many small decisions, last minutes ideas as much as long reflective thoughts. Some heartbreaking obstacles and both of us just pushing through it all, hoping, praying it will somehow get better, that we would get just one break. I can’t say what it was like from your point of you, but I can explain my experience of the story. Here it goes.

I didn’t have the happiest of childhoods. Some of my most beloved confidents would tell you it’s an understatement and I’m minimizing everything that happen. I made peace with it by now, those are the cards I was given, and even if the game is clearly rigged, I find myself liking more than I thought I ever would how the party is turning out. And somehow, I think I managed pretty well to turn the misplayed hands in my favor, even if it wasn’t without hopeless moments. I like to reflect on those, and how they metamorphosed my story. I was never I school-smart kid, and even if my family situation can explain why I didn’t work that much at home, it would be false to say it was all there was. They told me from an early grade that I needed to just do better, and even then, I was too proud to explain everything that was wrong around me. So I pushed and I pushed, until they didn’t let me pass the next grade. I remember crying so much that day, the news of being held back, of having one more year in a place I hated to much, that made me hate myself so much, was unbearable. And yet, now as I look back on it, it may just have been one of the best things that could have happened to me. For everything that I cherish in my life, I wouldn’t have if it didn’t turn this way. For it allowed me to have one more year to know what I wanted to do, it made me encounter my favorite people on that earth who introduced me to other beautiful messes of human beings. Those people, who somehow never gave up on me, no matter the false steps I made. Those who helped me understand that hurting people was okay, as long as you didn’t do it on purpose and you sincerely apologized, and that it none of those mistakes truly defined you as a person. Those people who still try to teach me that it’s okay to not always do it on my own, that it’s okay to let it go, to be vulnerable and even cry from time to time, that strengths don’t stop there.

And as for smaller, unpredictable choices, it’s too much to believe it wasn’t a perfect alignment of the stars. I am no math fan, but I’m pretty convinced the probability of you, reconnecting with a long-lost friend, who just happens to be dating one of my favorite people, giving us just the occasion to meet before splitting thousands of kilometers away, is indeed very low. And yet it felt way too obvious for me to just let it go, way too obvious for it to be just a coincidence, to not be a part of the big plot of our lives.

Now, I’m not saying this makes it in anyway easy. That the Universe planning it just magically erases all the issues we could face, because this would me way too evident of a lie. However, I am saying that it makes it all worth it in my eyes. For when I look into yours, I don’t doubt a thing. For from that very first encounter, you spined everything around me, slowly becoming one of the main focuses of my psyche, building your nest deep inside my soul. And for the first time, the things I always held to, protected with the highest and strongest wall possible, I feel safe sharing it all with you. I feel at peace with being everything that I am, was and wish to be. And I fell it all blossoming in the most perfect, imperfect way possible, and when I look into your eyes, I truly get that even if I can do it alone, I don’t have to. That not everything I am needs to be kept and locked away, letting me be afraid of them being the cause I’m rejected. Funny thing, the impact you have without realizing it and being scared to do the opposite. How you came in a moment in my life when I was slowly stopping to believe that love was for me, and that I would always be on the sideline. How from a stranger that a friend told me I would like, you took the dusty throne I used to watch hopelessly, waiting for someone to sit in it. How that butterfly effect brought us together, and how we accepted to play along, because you can’t just ignore it. I truly find it all a funny thing.

[burnedastra]

Line

                                                                                                  October 9th, 2017 

Perhaps it was a bad idea from the start. Perhaps I should have seen the flags and warning signs that were thrown my way. Perhaps I should have listened to my guts, screaming and begging me not to go down this road. Perhaps it would have allowed us not to crash pointlessly into oblivion. Perhaps it could all have been avoided if I never went to that silly bar, on that doomed and freezing November night. Perhaps, perhaps… Perhaps. I’m tired of all those ‘what ifs’, all those unrealizable scenarios, all those pending questions that I do not seem to be able to answer on my own. The ones you do not seem to be able to give me the final answer to, the kind that would set me free and let me be.

I wish I wasn’t just left there, cross-legged on the floor of my room, re-reading the pages of that stupid journal, searching for all the little signs of where it all went rogue. All the little signs of where that fun, cute person began to consume me. All the signs of where exactly I lost myself into your words, your touch, your eyes. But of all those darken sheets, I can’t find the one specific day my smile lessened, nor the one I first started crying. Maybe I subconsciously didn’t write on those days, in a way to trick myself into thinking it was not that big of a deal. In all those scrambling, hand hurting sheets, I can’t find the precise day where I became the shadow of myself, unable to distinguish myself from you, deaf to the pleas of my friends, screaming and begging to stop this non-sense before it’s too late.

And now. Now I’m left there, sitting on the floor of my room, all dressed up, writing those lines at 1:34am. The world as all gone quiet, as I just wait for any signs of life from you. For I know that I am physically incapable of resisting the urge to get up and go wherever you ask me to. For I am way to far down this road, and what would have been the point, if I just stopped now?

[burnedastra]

Evidence

I am an “unsure” girl. An “insecure” girl. An “overthinking girl”. A never quite know what to say or what to do girl. Each step carefully thought about to not be too noticed, too much of a bother; for I might regret letting the darkest, weirdest, meanest parts slither outside. Somewhere along the way, the confident, outgoing kid was shut down, and I’m left here, searching for her in the abyss of my psyche. Somewhere along the way, I made peace with the fact that I will always struggle with social interactions. I would always not quite get the tone, the vibe, and often feel on the outside. I work on it, I try to get better, I do my best to get better. I got better. But the voices remain. I never seem able to completely shut them up. Never seem able to completely ignore them, either. And yet, from the moment you enter my life, I didn’t have one single doubt. When you are near, I don’t think about what to say or what to do. When you are near, it is like an evidence, like I can finally let go, finally breathe. When you are near, I just am, and somehow, for the first time, it is the exact perfect amount. Neither too much nor not enough. Somehow, the voices disappear and I am at peace.

[burnedastra]

First Kiss

Somehow, I still found it marvelous, how things can just go full circle. How sometimes, by some miracle, one may get a second chance. How everything is about timing, and respect. How sometimes, you might be lucky enough to get a second chance.

The soft sunlight is gleaming on the sheets as you’re still tangled in the covers. I smile as I watch your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath you take. How peculiar the road that brought us back together. Maybe it was inevitable, after all the heartache, fights and tears shed. Some part of me, the one who romanticize everything, wants to believe it was all written in the stars. Another one, the most realistic, like the idea of us making our way back without even truly intending to. Maybe it is both. Chances are it is neither, for in all the months we didn’t speak to one another, my mind still ended up wondering to you, unable to truly let you go, no matter how hard I try. And even tho I hate admitting it, I did try, fiercely.

Your limbs unfold as your eyes flutter open, raising to meet mine with a smile that makes my heart glow. I reach to you, our lips meeting with softness for the very first time. All the destructive tension gone since we last travel this road. But as the sun continues its way up the sky, the passion from two souls longing for one another also let its place to something warm and peaceful. We may not have done it right the first time but somehow the stars aligned again, for the two lost souls that we are, to finally come home.

[burnedastra]

Night

   I could feel it pouring all around me, drowning me in an unstopping flow of energy. I had been warned. No good deeds ever happen after the sun has set. But the one I wanted to talk to in the moment only showed in the dark hours. I guess I let the most fatal of all flaws take the better of me in those dreadful moments. My ego made me believe that somehow, somehow, I could fool him. That I could do what no one else ever did, for I thought of myself as more clever, more deceitful, more, more, more.

   Truth is, I wasn’t prepared for the sight when he appeared, across the black, glistening surface of the lake. I could have never braced myself for that sort of vision. He had of human only the misty shape. His aura made its way across the water, pushing everything away as it enclosed me, absorbing me in its dark cloak. By that point, all light had gone, and not a single sound was able to penetrate the camisole. All I could hear was my own breathing and beating heart, as long as the quiet sloshing of the creature I had had the nerve to summon. Its caressing energy slowly made its way up my body and wrapped itself around my throat. The last thing I was able to hear was its laugh, condescending, amused by my human foolness.

[burnedastra]

Family

I never been much of a family person. I never really understood the appeal of blood relatives, or how people seemed to find comfort in them. One might say that this is because of my – more than – non-present father. And even tho, it certainly did have a roll in it, it’s not the only thing. In both sides of my family, people do not talk. We don’t show anything, sharing little mundane anecdotes and call it a day. No comfort. I do love them, and I know I can count on them if there is a problem in physical or financial health. But in regard of the mental health, I learned very quickly it was all up to me. It was my burden to carry, mine and mine only to deal with.

You may understand my distress when I started to interact with people outside of that circle. Suddenly, people where sharing what troubled them; which I loved, for it gave me insight on how the human brain works and it fascinated me, and made me feel worthy. What I wasn’t prepared for, however, was they need of reciprocation. I needed to give them a part of me I was not ready to let go off. I was asked to be share my deepest thoughts and feelings. This didn’t happen without issues. For at first, I was convinced people could just read between the lines, look at the subtexts of my behaviors, and just get me.

By some magic, a group of people actually didn’t mind those barriers, and were patient with me letting them down ever so slowly, one by now. By some magic, they forgave me for my random outbursts or disappearances. They understood and waited for me to calm down and swallow my pride before going back to them. They learned to spot my tearless, fearful glances and fake smiles in the crowds, when everything around is just too overwhelming. In one single sentence, they found the power to put a true, bright smile on my face, no matter how my day previously was.

And just like that, they made me understand what a family was for. Step by step. We may not be blood. We may be opposites in our core, but like some wide man said one day “there’s no one I’d rather be too hot or too cold with”. I found my family someplace else, and I know they would go to battle for me, just as much as I would for them.

[burnedastra]

Placard

Je ne saurais l’expliquer mais j’ai toujours eu une attirance pour les endroits étriqués. Ceux dans lesquels je me retrouve entièrement englobée, disparaissant le temps d’un instant de l’univers. J’y ai toujours trouvé quelque chose de foncièrement rassurant, comme si dans ces recoins les plus étroits, je pouvais y trouver la certitude que tout allait bien se passer. Il m’y a toujours été plus facile de mettre mes pensées à plat également, cachée des autres et de leurs attentes ou humeurs variantes. Enveloppée de cette atmosphère, je me perds dans cette stabilité, me rechargeant de ce calme et priant des dieux auxquels je n’ai jamais vraiment cru que la tempête passe. Puisqu’elle est là, la réalité de cette amour de retrait. Au sein de ces quatre murs, ensevelie par des manteaux et autres vêtements, loin de la lumière du monde extérieur, c’est comme si rien ne peut m’atteindre. Enfin. Le poids des objets tombant sur mes épaules alors que je me blottis dans un angle du petit espace m’apaise, tel une étreinte offerte après des mois sans effleurer la peau de qui que ce soit. Les textures des différents textiles et surfaces m’ancre dans l’instant présent, caressant doucement mes doigts fatigués jusqu’à ce que l’anxiété s’en aille peu à peu. L’absence totale de lumière me permet de laisser libre court à tout ce que je retiens. Chaque mouvement, conscient ou non, est alors dépourvu de jugement car invisible. Peut-être qu’ainsi isoler du monde réel, je deviens comme ce bon vieux chat de Schrödinger, pas réellement vivante mais pas vraiment morte non plus. Dans cet entre deux étrange mais reposant. Dans cette contradiction solitaire où chaque chose peu doucement reprendre sa place. Mais le double tranchant est de si perdre, j’imagine. Longtemps, j’ai langui de faire de cette sérénité un état constant. Mais si le chat n’est pas véritablement mort, ainsi terrer, il n’est pas vivant non plus. Alors il est temps de sortir et de retourner vers cette lumière éblouissante et frappante, retrouver les brouhahas et le déferlement d’humeurs et de regards, car la survis pure n'a jamais été assez pour qui que ce soit.  

[burnedastra]

Expectations

  I was always from the quiet kind. No waves. Never. For that meant I put attention on myself, and therefore some sort of value above other people. I chose to be from the silent type, observing people from afar, watching them as they lived and moved on. I guess, somehow, I put it on myself. I put it on myself to stay the exact same thing, always. Predictable girl. I witness my loved one as they make their lives, growing proud with each step they take. And I comply in this. I thrived in it. Always did, in some sort of way. But there is one terrible contradiction to it. One that is no one’s fault. Not even mine. Well maybe it is mine, even if I don’t have any control on it. The truth, the awful, bare truth is: I find people disappointing. For all the hopes I put in them.

  I do know it is unfair. I do know I should not. It is not fair to anyone to wish they see me the way I try to see them. It in not right to wish they understand me the way I – try to – understand them. But it is the way I am, I guess. I always wanted people to just keep up with the clues I gave up, the silent and withdraw I led on when it was all too much. But people don’t read your mind so I try to fight against this instinct. I try to talk more, to give off more obvious clues. To explain more, as much to myself as to others, my way of thoughts. So maybe by doing this, somehow, I became too much for some people. Too present for what they first signed up for. And I wish I could blame them. But I don’t think I have it upon myself.

  I was always some sort of in between. Too much or not enough. Too loud or too silent. All there or not at all. Maybe it is my fault. To want people to stand still like I do. To keep up with their promises. To not disappoint. To not overlook me. I do think it is my fault. For, by always being there, I am taken for granted and, therefore omitted. And I end up just staying there, hurt by being forgotten, but never finding the strengths in myself to do quiet the same. That is the petty thing, I guess. I want to be ‘an eye for an eye’. I want to make them feel sometimes, like I do. Not give them recognition right away. But when the opportunity does present itself, I don’t let it. Because they mean too much to me. Because I can’t let them down. Ever. Even when disappointed. Even when overlooked. Even when deeply hurt, and sad, and alone.

[daily-prompts]

prompt 1793

Give your character a goal and then make a list of things that would make it harder to achieve. Write a paragraph about each.