shhnarcissus

love, love, love

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

all that self awareness leads to protecting yourself. the thing is, once you start doing that too well, you're just lonely again.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

people fundamentally change you a lot but this is the first time I'm having to build myself up. Maybe not all of it's on you, maybe there were telltale signs all along but you were just to one to yank the carpet from underneath my feet. I was today years old when I realized I'd rather have a cat than a dog, and a huge part of that is our cat you so easily replaced. sometimes things mean far more to you than they do to other people. And i'm left in this weird purgatory, I have no person of my own apart from myself except I've always been with one. I'm questioning whether I'm incapable of love, of friendship, of ever being enough. All this is so much greater than you, but you were the catalyst. I have healthier love around me now, and maybe this quiet despair is just the fault of age, but atleast with you I never felt alone.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

would've been a year 2 days ago.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

time won't wait for words i won't say. you know that. you should go far far away. atleast the misery will make a poet of me. atleast I can revel in the pretense of being just awful without the knowledge of having tried and yet failing.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

you tell me that I underestimate myself and I don't quite know what to say. I can't comprehend how you choose to stay despite the countless pictures you have of me. It's hard to put into words something I've never said out loud before but every joke I make is another scribble on the mirror to avoid seeing my face. Every guy I offer my attention, just to withdraw is a hollow attempt at validation. Fear gnaws at the sparks, if they're with me for too long, they'll notice the cracks of my faccade, the texture of my skin I'm trying to hard to chemically disintegrate, the curve of a nose that I hate or eyes that could never be large enough. How I've imagined a surgeon cutting through layers of skin and finally fixing what's wrong and then maybe I wouldn't have those days where staying bed ridden feels like an armour. I haven't told you how I feel like throwing up everytime I eat but I've gotten close. Proximity that makes me want to flee and start a new life and sit in the comfort of knowing that I'm just a horrible person. So I just switch the topic and let the questions eat away at me. maybe they'll rid me of the weeds tarnishing my love for you, and then maybe I wouldn't question how you could see me half asleep, blabbering on calls and still smile so lovingly.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

and if he tells me he's in love with me i will tell him that i'm sorry. and i'll ask him why because i couldn't possibly deserve it. that there will always be a cherry pit at the center of my heart, and you eat away the red, the attention, the laughs, the sweetness and then it stops. i'm a horrible horrible person.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

it's not fair, it's not fair what if you have ruined me? I hate that my friends are yours and yours are mine and I can't tell anyone anything. oh how i wish i was one of the last stragglers in a dive club and there would be a quiet stranger sitting across me and I'd tell them about how you promised how you swore you would never go anywhere. it isn't fair how our friends get to see your smile and make you laugh and talk to you when I've built up 9 months worth of words to tell you. i fear i have too much self respect to ever find you again but he loved me he loved me he loved if he loved me why wouldn't change for me? please just why couldn't he change for me?

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

yeah and then i go to a good rave w my friends and like what was i even sad about?

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

I think the way we're brought up really beats the creativity out of you. I used to draw, I used to imagine holding a mic and slinking around a stage, I used to imagine the possibility of playing the violin for an entire amphitheatre, I used to dance, I used to write so much more and read whatever and whenever I wanted to. Now whenever I see an upcoming artist I just wonder how they're paying their bills. I used to want to study history, not because it's useful, but because everyone deserves to be remembered, but what is a historian, a philosopher in this modern world? the thought of studying english literature or art was beaten out of me black and blue when I realized what could one even do with these degrees? when I realized learning and knowledge could simply never be enough, something only reserved for people with millions in inheritance to live off on. I look at my case gathering dust and wonder how much I could sell it for. I think about tuition costs and read books to get me into college so that I can again pass an exam and again train and earn and save up and train and earn and save up. Every realization a punch so quiet, leaving my knuckle bruised. Yet I push back my hair, swallow the blood, comb down my curls in the pretence of neatness and smile for an exam ID, what else is a true determinant of my passion and love for biology than an exam seeing if I can read a 1000 words and answer questions on the assumption I know nothing of the subject in 30 seconds? god I used to struggle to reduce my essays to fit the word limit and now I sit and think of what to write. what shall I make of clipped wings? how much would they go for?

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

time is a stupid way to weigh love. something so diluted and evershifting and scientific to describe stupid,simple love? when my friend was crying about her breakup over a relationship that lasted 7 mere months, my mom laughed and said that's barely anything. With the first boy I ever really loved, it took me 2 seconds. he smiled at me and shit i was in love. and i know it was real and so very true because we still catchup when things are going good in our now asymptote lives. The second boy i fell in love with, it lasted for as long as a boy i started talking to later. the same period of time, one ended in deep resentment and a fear of ever falling, trusting and believing in promises again and one which i ended because i simply didn't care enough. the.same.period.of.time. yes and on the grand scale of things what is 2 years or 3 months compared to a lifetime? I've lived only for 16, ofcourse this is world-ending to me, the same way 23 years would be to my parents. time is a such stupid way to weigh love.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

sometimes I miss my best friend. When I see stuff I knew only she would understand, when I realize that this year would've marked a decade of us being friends, maybe malice and resentment shouldn't run so deep afterall, could such a thing as 2 boys and rumours cut bloodties? I imagine us circling back, overtime when tides grow slower and not everything is as huge and earth-shattering as it is to our lipglossed minds and giddy heads right now. I sometimes sit and think about how I don't have a maid of honour anymore and that now I have different friends for different parts of me. It IS freeing and I know we were drifting apart, the cracking lines of frutration were visible from miles away, the possessiveness, the jealousy, but isnt the final act of love to never speak to them again? somehow I cannot bring myself to even face you. I heard you broke up with him and I wanted to talk to you about it, we don't follow eachother on our socials anymore, but I still hope you find love that is good to you.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

deadass, peak is when you listen to love songs without anyone in mind.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

and it's almost like you love me. I mean you do, but i'm just so scared.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

I know that you were good to me and I know you're not a good person. How do I entertain both of those thoughts at the same time? It's conflicting how I could despise every inch of you yet still want only your arms to comfort me if I can't breathe.

[inkskinned]

oh, i am finally old enough to know why my parents took so long to grab their coats. why they would ask us to get ready to go only to sit down for another round of coffee. what would i tell myself, at 10 years old? it’s okay. sit down with them too. take in the extra hour with your friend and her family. when you get home, write down every moment in your diary. one day you will be older and you will be waving goodbye to your best friend, and you will turn the key to start your beat up little car engine, and you will look back over your shoulder. her hair will be blowing in the wind and she will be beautiful and you will be, for a moment, struck by all of it. what you will feel is so wide and nameless that it will engulf you. and you will think of being 14 and kicking her under the table in math every time you wanted to whisper something behind the teacher’s back. you will think about how long the days felt, and how you could hold her hand whenever you wished, but you didn’t. and you will think about all of the people you could have lingered with. and you will wish, more than you have ever felt a wish, that the universe just gave you that - more time to linger. more time to say - i love you. i know i need to leave, but i don’t want to leave you. and when i go, i am leaving a piece of my heart that lingers too. 

one more round of coffee. the days are so short, and you are so lovely.

[bakwaaas]

“The number of hours we have together is actually not so large. Please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving. Please forget your scarf in my life and come back later for it.” (mikko harvey)

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

the more I think, the older I grow, the more I realize love cannot be anything but a choice. fate is meant to be carried with intention, not helplessness.

[carpe-noctem-bitchess]

i love and i love and i love. what a fucking masochist.