Writing Is My Power

I'm not normal and I have accepted that and I am happy with it. So don't expect anything like that. I write what I feel and that is who I am.

[emery-lh]

and then it hit me

like a sudden lighting strike

that it’s been almost seven years—

and when that clock strikes

neither your skin nor mine

will remember each other

the lips that kissed yours

and the flesh that wrapped around me

will no longer exist

gosh, i thought i was over it—over everything

i had made peace with just the memories

but how can i be over it? over you?

when the skin that touched yours will soon be gone forever

and you will actually just be just a memory in my mind and heart

and probably someday just my heart (if my mind goes)

i know it’s almost seven years but

still this hurts

knowing that—someday

no one will remember us.

not even me or you.

[emery-lh]

and it hurt so bad i stopped writing. i still haven’t started. that’s how much it hurt — how much I broke.

[emery-lh]

growing up is knowing the difference between choosing to be strong and being forced

[emery-lh]

“there really is a life after depression and heartbreak. i didn’t believe there was but there is. so keep fighting. please. “

[blossomfully]

“What’s your greatest fear?” she asks.

“To be forgotten,” I tell her. “But not just that. To be forgotten by a person who I could never forget.“

[poems-and-word]

Poems & Words

[poems-and-word]

Poems & Words

[emery-lh]

“I don’t miss you. I miss who you were—who we were.”

[blossomfully]

Is it really so difficult for you to imagine that somebody could love you? That they could stay?

[emery-lh]

Yes. It is so difficult.

[poems-and-word]

Poems & Words

[poems-and-word]

Poems & Words

[sweepmoon]

Florence and the Machine at last night’s Spotify event in Brooklyn. As Florence began to sing Sky Full of Song a literal storm began to hit, she never faltered and embraced the storm.

[teenageers]

feelings❌

[emery-lh]

For my Lord, God who has never and will never leave my side

[emery-lh]

“I was afraid he was my one chance at love. I screwed it up. Now, I am afraid that I wouldn’t find love again.”

[blossomfully]

It was a terrifying thing to admit. Almost too terrifying to say out loud.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“It’s a simple thing.” I said.

“What is it?”

“All anyone ever wants.” I said. “To feel important in some small way.

“To be loved.

“To matter.”

Sue Zhao

[emery-lh]

“I think the point of loving yourself isn’t to love yourself everyday but most days”

—I’m trying.

[poems-and-word]