words from a girl

just a girl in this world who thinks a lot and writes a lot and some of it makes sense and some of it doesn’t https://diphylleiadiaries.wordpress.com/

[diphylleiadiaries]

Hope in December

I slept late last night, I tossed and turned; artificial rain noises lulled me to sleep only so much.

I woke up okay, though. My morning cup of coffee, made with love and flavored with brown sugar cinnamon only woke me up enough to last half the day, so I made a pit-stop before class for a second cup.

When I did, I saw a friend, one I hadn’t seen in far too long. We talked by the register and I smiled the whole way through.

I got a gift today, beautiful earrings from a close friend. A darling friend, who revisited the same village we did, together. She said so much there reminded her of me. I put the earrings on immediately.

We both got hugged today, by our statistics teacher; we got her a card and she blushed while she told us we made her day.

I said goodbye to my favorite psychology teacher today, she gave me two hugs. I told her I was devastated I had to miss her last class, she said that the feeling was mutual.

I’m sat by my favorite tree again, feeling no rush and no stress this time. There is pink seeping through the clouds today, the smile on my face is real.

I’m going back to yoga today, it’s been too long. I’ll have to say goodbye to the instructor, but I feel nothing but content I got to experience her classes at all. I can’t wait to stretch my back.

I have had my eyes closed for so long, stumbling around, afraid of the light. Jets above me leave streaks in the sky.

It snowed last night but it’s all melted since then.

Two of my roommates will be heading out today, T-minus 20 minutes until our goodbyes. I am nothing but happy for them, for I know what these trips mean to them.

I think about December. 7 days in and so much has come and gone. I think about how much will continue to do so. I recognize that I’m still here.

I am content. I am okay, and I can do it again, I can do it forever.

[diphylleiadiaries]

Sun swims down a stream, like a golden river keeping up with me. I see soft ice, stagnant over the brightest parts of it. I want to jump, plunge into it like it’s nothing, to feel my breath stop and my heart work overtime. To fall asleep to a blue jay's song, dedicated to the naked trees. To greet my dreams with a shiver so harsh, it warms all of me right up. I will need my coat when I step outside, but right now, I am so reluctant. 

[diphylleiadiaries]

I am sat by my favorite tree again, 13 days later. The ground beneath me is still familiar, and so is the smell of smoke, but I am trying to get used to the ache in my lungs. I try not to ruminate on these next three weeks, my least favorite of the year, but it is futile. I feel stuck. I am unsure if I have it in me to turn my pain into some glorious metaphor tonight. The sun sets too early now; they’re each different, sure, but in this moment, it feels all the same. Blue and yellow and orange, muddled together until the canvas becomes dark again, like I am used to. I like being used to things. My roommates’ conversations sound foreign, the girl in the mirror is a stranger, I have this weird pain in my left shoulder, maybe I should have gone to my weekly yoga class after all. For 13 days, I was someone different, and 13 days later, I don’t want to know her anymore. I feel stagnant. My to-do list is a mountain and I have no plan for when to climb it, much less how. I am sat outside, on the golf course that has become my second home, hoping desperately to find the place in which my remains are buried, but I’m not even trying. I see no grave and there was never a tombstone to look for, all that I am met with is a rabbit hopping by, that’s new. I don’t like new. The next three weeks shouldn’t feel new, I’ve been through them before and I’ll do so again next year. New, new, new, everything feels new. The girl I once knew would know what to do, but these 13 days have killed her, and funnily enough, there’s still no tombstone to look for. Last week was warm but tonight the weather chills me to my bone, my hands are always cold but I worry my thumbs might actually freeze. These sweatpants were given to me yesterday and my comically large coat has finally made its debut. The growl from my stomach is almost comforting, if only it didn’t pain me in a way I wasn’t used to. I twirl my hair, the same piece I always do, but I just found out it might make it shorter than the rest, that’s new. Everything seems so close, but when I reach out my arms, it is only a gust of wind that greets me, and a magnifying glass falls out of my hands. I didn’t know I was holding that. I don’t know a lot anymore, apparently, and, worst of all, I don’t know if I have it in me to learn again.

[diphylleiadiaries]

Cheating

Lights glimmer, white and red and gold. 

The stars do too, brighter, and just close enough to touch. 

The moon is right within reach; I take a picture, it doesn’t do any justice. 

Cutting through the sky, I’m too fast to be held back. 

My mind is a mess, working too fast to catch up, making no sense of my thoughts. 

Running on little sleep and less caffeine, I can’t quite pen my words even though I dream of worlds in my mind. 

I need to buy multiple birthday gifts, but I haven’t yet got paid; I need to think about Christmas presents but who gets what, and when? 

My brain won’t let me entertain the passage of time, it has forgone counting the days, and it cannot stand dreaming of the weeks to come. 

My heart only races faster as these wheels get closer to the ground. 

Does riding on an airplane not feel a little bit like cheating? 

My grandfather boarded a ship, at far too young an age with far too little to his name, making a house a home after far too long of a trip. 

People rode in carriages and familes crossed the country on wagons. 

At 9 years old I learned of the efforts of many, of the trials and countless tribulations of more. 

My people walked their forests on muddy soles and had less than nothing to say about it. 

Some still do. 

Between the water and the land, we have had it all and we still looked for more above us. 

Aluminum panels hug me tight but cold; welcome yet alarming. 

I have never felt more fear nor freedom than when I am in the clouds. 

There is calamity in the calmness that I feel when everything looks far too small, and then no longer visible, to my eyes. 

My life is in that of another’s hands, and it relies on a system of nerves larger than I can fathom. 

Over oceans blue and forests vast, visions flicker in my mind. 

Fire crackling and screams piercing, the whooshing of wind and its devastating pull. 

I picture the pearly staircase, either that or I really do see it. If I blink, it doesn’t go away.

When I wake up, the lights are still dark and my window is still closed. 

I am handed a Biscoff, I am told to buckle up. 

I hand my trash off to a nice blonde lady and I raise my music to the highest of volumes. 

I lean back, I look out the window. 

My heart beats so fast that I no longer feel it, and my brain is finally quiet.

The stars are nothing but dim, silver dots on a vast landscape and the lights are now giving me a headache.

I take three deep breaths and repeat it twice more.

I cheated but at least I made it home. 

I cheated but I will feel my mother’s warmth. 

I will wrestle with my brother and braid my sister’s hair; I will watch a film with my father and hear the laughter of my friends. 

I cheated but I will make it count.

[diphylleiadiaries]

hi posted a poem I’m rlly very proud of on vocal cus it’s a little longer than usual so if u wanna check it out it’s at https://vocal.media/poets/talk-to-me-miyn0sog 🫶😇🌸

talk to me

please, just for a little.

[diphylleiadiaries]

Life can’t be all that horrible because at any moment u can stop and write a poem

[diphylleiadiaries]

Two hundred and fifty days. 

I have not put myself through that pain for eight months and eleven days, but I miss it like my grandmother’s heavy quilt blanket on a winter night. 

Horrifyingly described and scarring to those who would know, I never minded it. I have the urge still, late into the night, while the stars sing to each other, and I am the only one in the audience. When I cannot stand being in my bed, resisting sleep, tired because I can’t. 

I haven’t done it. 

Proud of myself, I am, but a worse part of myself never cared about being proud. 

It never cared for the hurt or the scars. It never considered the time that I spent patching myself up after the tears finished falling as wasted. Rolling its eyes when I flinched in pain, chuckling as I covered myself up in all the ways that I could. It didn’t mind it then and it whispers to me that it would never mind it now. 

I have become quite good at drowning it out; between the music and the phone calls, using my fingers to write my papers and my poems instead, I ignore it. Less than a year later but more than a half, I’ve got other habits now, but I’ve not gone back there. 

Its familiarity calls out to me, it screams my name when it knows I’m alone, it sings me lullabies when acid rain streams down my face, but I’ve made my escape and I have to remind myself why I did. 

I wish the better part of me was stronger, I wish it better remembered the days in which I hurt and that it counted the ones in which I kept myself from it. I wish it could shower me with pride and let me hug my accomplishments to sleep. Instead, it clings onto the promise of the future, imagining the next time I might need the devil on my shoulder. 

After all, the angel is weak, and she is falling asleep, I am jealous, but I am holding back. Lucky me, I am so strong. 

Am I?

[diphylleiadiaries]

.

How was I ever happy? When was I ever happy? Why was I ever happy? How are other people happy? What do they do? What is their secret? Everything has gone wrong, so wrong, from one day to the next, and it won’t stop. I am tormented by the pain of existence every day, I cannot find it in me to accept this way of living.

[diphylleiadiaries]

Rooting

It must really be just so exhausting rooting for the anti-hero. 

What’s it like to root for me, when I always let you down? 

I am kind; I tell my friends that they’re beautiful, that they’re smart, that I’m proud of them, I say my “please”s and my “thank you”s, I compliment strangers and I hold the door open. 

I am compassionate; I offer my friends an ear to talk to, a shoulder to lean on, a person to cry to, I shower my family with gratitude every chance that I get. 

I am conscientious; I pick up trash off the street and always after myself, I load the dishwasher at home without being asked, and here, I always put them away. 

I am funny, it’s what my friends say; I try to be, I get them to laugh.

But yet, I disappoint. 

I never reach out first, and if you do then it will take me a day or two to respond, if we're lucky.

I dodge plans and play stupid like I don’t know what you want from me. 

When I make plans, I rarely flake, but I do try and cut them short, as short as I can handle. 

I don’t want people in my room, I don’t like people in my heart. 

Tell me all of your fears, I will never tell you mine.  

You don’t know what I want, but then again, I never will. 

I don’t give people a fair try; I run away like a thief in the night. 

Taking your name, your stories, our moments, our memories, the secrets that you’ve confided in me, the tears that you’ve cried to me, far, far away. 

I always seem so far, but, somehow, I’m close enough to touch. And you do; you poke me and you shake me, but I don’t move. 

When I finally sway, it's to let a leaf fall, and another, and suddenly they’re all brown and I have nothing more to give. 

I’ve disappointed you, again. 

So, you sigh, you walk away, and you say to yourself,

“Whatever happened to that tree? It used to be so pretty.”

[diphylleiadiaries]

Everyone’s up to something. It’s 4:23 and I’m sitting outside watching the trees sway. Watching the hawk soar the skies alone; we’re alike on that one.

Oh, how I want to skip through this field in my skirt, letting it flow; to twirl and twirl until everything is a blur and I lay on the ground for comfort, finding bunnies in the clouds.

My lack of energy aches me, sick to my stomach, but I take the final puff.

I was content just last night, with my grades and my classes, with my life, what changed in 12 hours?

Kafka wrote of the relief of giving into destruction, and God, he couldn’t be more right. Thank God for the sun peeking through the branches onto my all but warm body.

Faking it until you make it works, but it leaves you with a whole the size of all of your dreams combined and more.

I have grown tired of swallowing down my feelings, and I cried last night for the first time in longer than I can remember. It was cathartic, and it set me off. It set me free, but at what cost?

[diphylleiadiaries]

when you read poetry do u usually prefer reading poetry about love, sadness, happiness, or something else? am genuinely curious abt others tastes

[diphylleiadiaries]

On my sleeve. On a platter. In your hands, for you decide what to do with. Carrying it with me everywhere and I cannot help it getting heavier by the day. 

Take me home. Take me where it is held gently by my mother the way she did when I was a child. She will squeeze me gently; a hug from her to keep me from plunging into the darkness around me.

Tunnel vision. Clinging onto my thoughts about the future like it might escape. Throwing time, money, and empty love at it, hoping something sticks. But still, I am so afraid.

Closing my eyes, seeing everything everywhere; I’m in a nightmare. 

What can I do? What can I do to just be okay again? Where is the recipe for happiness? Nothing I have tried has worked, and I always figure it out.

I’m supposed to be the one who can always figure it out.

What does this mean for me? Am I losing myself again?

Where are the instructions on how to fix this? 

[diphylleiadiaries]

An empty stomach, an empty mind, even emptier heart. Tears refuse to fall and it’s driving me mad. Spiraling and spiraling and laying on the floor, sinking deeper but not going anywhere at all. Anything is better than this. Where is the remedy for this feeling? Alcohol, cigarettes, and weed have never fixed anything but still I try. Am I supposed to live with myself, like this, forever? If no one else has stayed, why do I have to? I am stomping my feet on the grass like a petulant child. Throwing a temper tantrum beneath a tree where anyone can see. All there is inside me is energy, albeit weak, ironically, and I have nowhere to put it. I need to run laps around this campus; I need to cartwheel my way through this golf course; I need to run away from my problems and give my legs a valid reason to rest on this ground.

[diphylleiadiaries]

I get bored way too fast. Of people, things, food, routine. That, plus my overwhelming fear of others finding me boring, and subsequently leaving me, makes me the perfect individual to run away in the middle of the night. Screaming silently, only to myself. Nobody gets to see anything but dreams of what could have been. And when we see each other again, 3 months later, I’ll just ignore you again, harder, and you’ll realize I was never worth it anyway.

[diphylleiadiaries]

3.

I am afraid that I cannot love. 

That it isn't what I was made for.

For when I do, I love with all of me, but I have none of me left to share. 

I have never had much of me that I could share, and in the moments that I did, it always slipped through my fingers, like a snowflake on a winter day.

Like my heart is made of snow and everyone's hands are far too hot.

It is a grand shame too, for my dreams whisper to me than I can, and that one day I will, but I am far too much of a realist to believe any sickly-sweet murmurs.

Your eyes are far too pretty, they glimmer even on this gloomy night. 

The pavement beneath us isn’t that comfortable, at all, but you say you don’t mind it. 

You say you don’t mind a lot when it comes to me.

My icy heart is leaping out of my chest, it wants only your warmth, a hold it knows will crush it in a matter of minutes. 

Do you mean the words you say? When you look in my eyes, do you see another's? What goes on in your mind, is there anything I need to know?

Tell me, please, I am afraid of the dark and it is a new moon tonight.

Tell me, please, for I cannot handle deceit or disappointment, the only things that burn me more than your hands.

I want to be God. 

I want to be so high that I am but a speck in others' peripheries. 

They know it is me, but they can’t be certain. 

A being so close yet so far. 

You see my silhouette, but the fog is much too thick; you cannot call out for me for you're not sure that's who it is. 

But you think of me, and you do so often. And I don't have to give up my heart for it, and we don't have to sit on rocky pavements, and it is sunny now, too, and everything is okay.

[diphylleiadiaries]

September 23rd, 02:11am.

It’s too cold. I am shaking and aching in every muscle. My teeth are chattering more than they ever have before. Loud enough to revibrate through the hills on the field before me.

I refuse to go inside.

What do I have but to ache in there? To wither in my bed and shake by myself. My stomach hurts and my head is so dizzy. Nothing can cure this; nothing can cure this feeling the way I want it to.

There is nothing to wash over, wash down, wash away, the way I am feeling and how badly I don’t want to feel this way anymore.

I have put myself through hell and high water for no worthwhile reason and I continue to do so because, after all, old habits die hard.

I want to drink so much water that I drown myself and my sorrows along with. But that isn’t how it works.

These stars don’t know peace. The ground beneath me will never know freedom. This desolate parking lot feels like my brain and right now, I can’t feel it at all.

Heaven is near, and there is no better time to hide.

[diphylleiadiaries]

8:16am.

I haven’t written in so long. The heels of the world penetrate my back and I cannot help but crumble at the pressure of it all. I am always picking between one vice or another, one love or another, never finding time for both. If I accomplish something in one area it is not without disappointing myself in another.

Logistically, I understand that this life is full of ups and downs, to enjoy one you must learn to enjoy them all, but I cannot find it in me to feel neither content nor okay with what happens during the fall. So, I rush to pick myself back up, building up a ladder so I can get myself to that peak again, fire under my skin, sparking up the wood, burning it into ashes until I’m left exactly where I started.

It has become exhausting, like it always does, but the roller coaster hasn’t shut down yet and I’m nowhere near the safety steps, so all I can do is continue to ride.