cinnie

sorting thoughts into words all written by me

[cinniebellllll]

When is enough, enough?

How much does one have to give before they give up? If they were to give up, does it mean they have failed the test of strength or resilience? Or were they simply fighting a battle whose outcome was already written?

[cinniebellllll]

I speak of lies as affirmations to soothe myself to sleep at night, because the truth has claws awaiting me beneath my bed.

[cinniebellllll]

You stepped into my messy inner world, looked up to the sky of tangled thoughts and smiled. For the first time I felt the sun shining on my face.

But one thing about sunshine is that it’s temporary and unpromising

[cinniebellllll]

“Fantasy is fantasy, reality is reality.”

I thought this phrase would keep me grounded, realistic, normal.

Turns out staying grounded, realistic, normal, feels a lot like sinking.

[cinniebellllll]

Writing is a wicked poison.

I pick up my pen and I write,

I write and write and write about the trees and birds and flowers.

Somehow the endings will all lead to the tragedies, losses and you.