Scattered pages from the life I wasn’t given.

And words from the space where love should’ve been.

[disowneddiary]

25th

Today is my birthday, did you remember? If I count the years by who didn’t show up, I’m older than time. Thank you for the text reminder, How thoughtful of you.. Although a call would’ve been nicer. Wouldn’t dare ask for a coffee date - Even this day, the one with my name on it, Still couldn’t make it onto your calendar. It’s like clockwork — the hope, then the letdown, And still, some part of me hoped you'd show up. I hate birthdays. Because I never felt celebrated, Because the cake never tasted like home, that was of my own. Someone else always picked the flavor, Someone else always blew out the candles first. Now I don’t even like cakes, or birthdays, I trained myself out of wanting them. It's safer that way. But sure, you texting me is fine. Happy 25th to me, myself & I.

[disowneddiary]

One year later..

Funny how I thought things would be different by now.

More calls.

More effort.

More proof that I mattered.

The worst part isn’t that nothing changed, it’s that some part of me still hoped it would.

Happy 26th to me, myself & I.

[disowneddiary]

Longing

I guess people are always craving something different

Straight haired girls want those magnificent curls

Curly haired girls want the easy to maintain sleek vibe hair

Kids want to grow up so bad

Yet elders just want to be young again

I wish i could live a simple ranch style life

And i know there is a small town girl wanting to get to the big city madness.

[disowneddiary]

For the longest time i tought my grandfather’s favorite food was anything that got burnt. Long after his passing was the moment that I realized he didn’t like burnt toast or pancakes either.

And still to this day, when i make that first pancake a little burnt, I imagine him walking into the kitchen and snatching it up, like it’s his favorite🤍

[disowneddiary]

We used to call every few days.

Days turned into weeks.

Then whenever we remembered.

After that, months learned how to disappear.

I miss you

in a life you already moved on from.

[disowneddiary]

Not the narcissistic mother complaining that you are parenting her, like -girly that was your decision not mine.

[disowneddiary]

Being lonely in a crowd? Great-feels like home anyway.

[disowneddiary]

It’s my first time living.

It’s fine if I suck.

I say it to quiet the ache, or maybe to prove I can be kind to myself.

[disowneddiary]

Sure, you gave me a roof. But it never felt like a home.

[disowneddiary]

Maybe I’m not hard to love, maybe you were just too soft to try.

[disowneddiary]

Doomed Soulmates

Maybe we did something in our last life, and this is the punishment.

You, always just close enough to haunt me; me, always stupid enough to hope again.

Over and over.

Lifetime after lifetime.

Like the universe is addicted to watching us fall apart.

[disowneddiary]

Heatwave

It started like every heatwave does- Too hot to move, too restless to stay still.

You looked at me like trouble, And I looked back like I’d already made the mistake.

Everything felt sweeter in the heat, Your touch was fire, your hands were cheat.

Smelled like citrus and gin, tasted like sin- I knew the risk, and still gave in.

The kind of summer that tastes like Gas station soda, cheap cologne, and maybe love.

We never said forever. We barely said tomorrow.

But damn, we meant it for that one night. And when the storm finally broke;

You kissed me like you knew the heat would end. Like the fire was the point - not the lesson, nor the burn.

The word “heatwave” reminded me of Grease - that kind of summer love that’s too intense to last. What a clever little prompt, thanks to; @wrentalks , @picklemafia

[disowneddiary]

**“This reminded me of you.”**

That sentence shouldn’t mean so much, but it does.

It means I still live somewhere in your head, even when I’m not trying to. 🤍

[disowneddiary]

Maybe the grass is greener

I mean look at us, dancing around our words Like the idiots in love we are. Careful hands, careful sentences, The kind of eye contact That means everything and nothing Depending on who’s watching. We both know it’s wrong. You ought to know it’s wrong - When it feels so right. Maybe the grass is greener after all this time. Maybe it grew wild, While we looked the other way, Tending someone else’s garden, Planting roots where we never really belonged. We say we’re just talking. We say we’re just catching up. But my phone lights up and I smile too fast. You say my name like it still fits in your mouth, like you never gave it up. Tell me - Are we crossing lines, Or just pretending they don’t exist? Because we haven’t stopped thinking about it? I mean look at us. Still orbiting. Still pretending the gravity’s a coincidence.

[disowneddiary]

Billions of years, infinite chances to miss - and we still crossed paths. That has to mean something.

[disowneddiary]

Dead Signal

Hey mom, I think I might go back to school. Hey dad, I applied to college. Hey mom, I got into college! Hey dad, I graduated!! Hey mom, I got the job!!! Oh - right. I know you don’t know. Maybe you’ll see it on my socials, When my friends congratulate me. Or maybe you won’t. I know you’re busy with your new family.

[disowneddiary]

No One Ever Told Me

No one ever told me, that healing would look like silence, like walking away without a door slam, like deleting the number and not saving a new one. No one ever warned me, how grief can look like scrolling past your photo, but still pausing for just long enough to remember the version of you I used to believe in.

People keep telling me I’m strong. I keep pretending I agree. I eat my pride with a plastic spoon, and call that dinner. I’m not bitter. I’m just full of things I wasn’t allowed to say at the time they were happening. If you ask me how I’m doing, I’ll tell you I’m tired. That’s the polite version of "Please don’t leave, but also don’t get too close." I’ve learned to be fine in lowercase. Because uppercase always asked for attention no one had to give. So I’m quiet. And healing. And angry. And fine. All at once. That’s the truth. And I finally know how to say it.

[disowneddiary]

25th

Today is my birthday, did you remember? If I count the years by who didn’t show up, I’m older than time. Thank you for the text reminder, How thoughtful of you.. Although a call would’ve been nicer. Wouldn’t dare ask for a coffee date - Even this day, the one with my name on it, Still couldn’t make it onto your calendar. It’s like clockwork — the hope, then the letdown, And still, some part of me hoped you'd show up. I hate birthdays. Because I never felt celebrated, Because the cake never tasted like home, that was of my own. Someone else always picked the flavor, Someone else always blew out the candles first. Now I don’t even like cakes, or birthdays, I trained myself out of wanting them. It's safer that way. But sure, you texting me is fine. Happy 25th to me, myself & I.