its always âeat the richâ until some rich get eaten.
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@closeted-author
its always âeat the richâ until some rich get eaten.
Odysseus is stronger than me, becuase if i saw my ex, much less MY WIFE, my crew would be dead that instant
the words âcowardâ and âsquidwardâ are composed the same way
her absence has left me with less than nothing. pain is all i have to my name.
i think iâd prefer the void to this hell.
how can you tell me to love myself? it is so very hard to love myself, but itâs so easy to love you.
if it was codependence, i donât think i minded. she was my only source of happiness, but iâve never been happy before, and never will again.
i write her poems
when my thoughts go to her
now i am surrounded by poems
and she is nowhere nearer.
you want me to be happy, yet my true north is gone
you say that you wanted me to share, yet you cast me out for being broken
and now you say you need space, and once again i choose to believe you, i simply hope this time it is the truth
all my life, iâve been made to kneel at the feet of those above me. forced to show my deference.
so tell me, why is it so bad to choose for whom iâll kneel?
despite being very much alive, iâve written so very many suicide notes
one for each member of my family,
though i am buried to them now
one for each cherished friend,
though theyâve since wished me dead
two for the girl whom held my heart,
but it has been years since we last met
all those tears,
all the words
i felt needed to be said
post-mortem
and yet
not a single recipient
would notice if i
d i s a p p e a r e dâŠ
history head cannon: a single bottle of adobe spice mix would be enough to become the king of england in the 1700s
iâve seen the post here thats says something like âmy trauma didnât make me kind, it revealed my kindnessâ. i think thatâs valid.
but thatâs not me
when i look in the mirror i see a bad person. i see someone who is selfish and cruel and exudes toxicity. i see everything my trauma was, and worse.
the only difference between me and those that made me what i am? i decided no one else should suffer what i suffered.
i am a bad person, but i have no desire to make the world worse, even if i must wear a mask of false kindness.
death and love are far closer than youâd think.
i have watched love die, and now i lust for death herself. no mere sadness or self resentment could state my desire for the end.
for years, she was the only comfort on cold nights. through the inferno she cooed into my ears,
âi can take the pain awayâ
and she was always right. though i was never ready to embrace her.
i lust for death.
others donât see her as i do. âthe end of lifeâ they call her. i much rather see her as the end of suffering. the end of pain; a return home at last.
i donât want to die, but i lust for her embrace.
do you feel like thereâs at least one masochist in a boxing gym and is just so bad at fighting cuz they keep not blocking ?
of all the tragedies i have lived, not one of them compares to losing a love. every time a disaster would strike, my mind would go âat least i have her.â
what hurts even worse, is that my mind still thinks that from time to time, though it is a lie.
the only thing i hate more than myself, is you for making me this way.
of course Orpheus turned around. the same voice that called him into hell, called him to look behind.