elli belly

17 && writer

[elliotxavi]

I miss my warm cocoon of sadness. Who knew sadness could bring an indescribable amount of comfort and safety to someone who craves love and happiness like it’s keeping them alive.

[elliotxavi]

People that take things you told them in confidence and throw it back in your face, do not deserve a place in your life.

[elliotxavi]

I soak and bathe in the idea that one day I will be a careless writer. I drown myself in the idea that I’ll be able to write everything in my head. My head is so messy. My head, my mind and my everything feels damaged. I’m sick of feeling like everything I do will have the same ending. I’ve prepared for everything I’ve grown so bored. I’ve grown bitter to the thought of another failed talking stage, another shitty english mark, another disappointed glare from you and more and more angst and boredom. How can life be so angsty but boring? I’m used to everything that I crave something different. I want change. I was always scared of it but I need it. I need it before I die from this loop I got myself stuck in. I need my mind. I need my life. I need to feel okay and let change happen. I need to embrace everything and anything. I want to live carelessly. I’m tired of this cycle of angst and boredom my teenage self created in a moment of self loathing.

[elliotxavi]

My last attempt at getting you both back.

Looking pathetic was the thing that scared me the most. Or was it the rejection? No. Definitely not. I’ve been used to you not being in my life.

I mentioned, how you were happy without me. I don’t mean to disrupt that. If I were you I would want to read it. Curious to the words of one, ghost of a friend turned foe.

Why did he take it? Why did he need to see it first? He got a letter from me once. I mean everything I write. I wouldn’t lie. I wouldn’t add secrets between the lines. My words mean no harm yet I feel as if he sees them as poison.

I’m the bad guy. I tried and I’m afraid even if I had offered a olive branch you will find a way to stab me with it. Along with making it look like attempted suicide. The way you’ve be able to do, all along.

[elliotxavi]

I want to be loved. I want to die loved. I want to be loved roughly and softly. I want to be loved like they describe it in books and poems. I want to be loved like a song. I want to be loved in all ways, shape and form.

-e.s

[elliotxavi]

I want to be enough for someone. Instead of filling the gaps with lies so they desire me as much as I need.

–e.s

[stay-close]

“I’ve found that growing up means being honest. About what I want. What I need. What I feel. Who I am.”

— Epiphany

[poetry-siir]

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[elliotxavi]

Maybe I could cry over it. What is a few tears worth? The salty water burning my cheeks over you. I could be angry over it. Throw a complete tantrum, trash my room and ruin all my good friendships. I could sit in silence and drive myself insane over it. There is so many different ways I can approach these things. I could let my mind think of the craziest things. Let it conjure up a bizarre fantasy. Let it consume me and take control of my emotions. I could. I would. But I will not. Instead I let myself be. I reassure myself. I talk myself down. I let the shit roll off of me. I let it all go. I can’t control everything. I won’t control everything. If it happens it happens. It won’t be the end of the world. Would it?

–e.s

[mkvx-deactivated20240202]

@mkvx

[tulipsofthemorning]

[leonardospoetry]

Love is the antidote to fear.

[elliotxavi]

Rant.

My life doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Everything is out of my control. Nothing is in my grasp. I’m slipping. I don’t know how to fix it this time.

[lone-nyctophile]

gorgeous gorgeous girls always have ink stains on their hands

[elliotxavi]

Seasonal Depression.

The mindless lull of nothing, Winter and Summer. It’s always the same, always the same feelings. Feelings of.. Feelings of what? It’s been years of this repetitive scheduled sadness. You’d think that since I know it’s coming, I’d catch it. Catch it like a cold, all too easy. Catch it since it’s infront of me? No. It blindsides me each season. I can’t fight the fight anymore. No matter what approach I take it swallows me, consumes the person I once was and spits me out a little less human then I once was. What’s the point? Why was I given this? Who’s to blame? God gives you everything you’re meant to do and strong enough to handle but this just kills parts of me. The best parts of myself each time. I’m less and less here. It’s the post school lull. Who am I without routine? Blessed and cursed to never or barely survive without being scheduled to exist, breathe, eat, wake and speak. Is this just life? Am I complaining about what every human feels? Am I just another teenage burnout that is questioning the system? The system that is iron tight and stronger then my own mental walls? Why is that? I do everything for myself. I do everything for me. I follow the societal system. Again questioning if it’s me or it? Both? My brain is racked with questions, desperately trying to find someone or something to blame. I’m dying. I feel it. I don’t want it to be my fault. Another thing. Maybe I already died. Maybe I’ll die again? Only God knows. Only God knows the fight that he’s giving me is slowly consuming me, again. Why? Why is this my battle? Why do these feelings run through my heart and soul like familiar friends. Like they know every ventricle and vein on my heart. They know my every breath and every strand of hair on my body. They know me better then what they’re there to do. What they’re there to wreck. To break. To kill. I wish words flowed out of me like they did before. I wish I wrote how I did before. I wish I was who I was before. Just for a moment. The parts of me that died are so buried away. I never got to properly mourn. I changed my name and let those parts sink away just because they reminded me of you. I never want to hurt myself like that again. But then again, the summer is coming. 6 days left of my happiness. Of myself. Until I die again. Born into fall. Wonder who I’ll be then.

– e.s

[thoughtkick]

“You own everything that has happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

— Anne Lamont

[elliotxavi]

Speak with pride. Share what feels right and never let anyone tell you otherwise. Your trauma and experiences are yours to keep and hold.

[elliotxavi]

I wish to share my strongest emotions and feelings to the world, to inspire people all over that big emotions don’t define us and we will always be able to tackle our biggest feelings.