self - examination

just going about life

[everylevel]

[everylevel]

And I guess there’s nothing I can do about that

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[everylevel]

Same energy

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The thing is that this blog feels like an archive of the person I used to be. And sometimes I wish I could be her again.

Seeing that gap, that stark contrast between me now, and me in like 2017 when I still posted on here, is really hard. I don’t like to see that gap.

[everylevel]

I guess the logical thing is just to post things right?

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I really want to post more on this blog like my art and my stuff because I don’t feel comfy posting a lot of my ~vulnerable~ art and such on Instagram but I’m struggling to do that idk how to get back into tumblr I think it’s the superior platform for anonymity and archiving without pressure but how do I use it again??? Help

[everylevel]

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Trying something new

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A list of things:

•all the things and people and places that I no longer hold but I can’t help but think about

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what does it mean that I feel so much or nothing at all?

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I’m trying to make stuff again

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I'm an empty plastic water bottle. I'm like those stress balls you squeeze until you lose it or you don't need it anymore and you're done squeezing so you put it away. I'm your favorite mug the one you drink coffee out of every morning I'm a sign that life is getting better for you You don't have to love me I'm the stone path. People like to give me themselves. They vomit up trauma and terrible exes who've hurt them in irreversible ways. They puke up fathers and brothers and childhood best friends and mental illnesses and the girl they fucked once then fell in love with And the guy who bullied them in the 6th grade. They say: "God, those pursed lips, those shining eyes, the cocked head to the left or to the right. Your eye contact and how you hold it and smile when it's appropriate." Don't romanticize my human kindness Or the pollution of the ocean Or flowers that wait until every other flower blooms before they get to. I'm not the moon the way you want me to be So stop looking at me and feeling lonely. And oozing questions and secrets and warm winds Getting emotional over light reflecting and telling me all about it. I'd slit my wrists and fall out of grace if it meant spilling everything I've ever heard and never having to hold it again. When I was a kid I thought it was the shape of my eyes. Really sad like downturned tears I look like I'm crying for people. I'm not a kid anymore, but I'm still suspicious of eyes and I wanna keep mine far away, slip them in my pocket for protection so I never have to look into anyone else's again. I wanna cry for myself for once. I wanna jump on your couch where you've spilt intestines and internal organs and veins and things The stains I couldn't clean but I did my best. I caught all your bloody insides and sewed them back inside I wanna yell about what hurts me But I grind my teeth. My jaw is locked. I don't want anyone to have me Exhausted emotionally I'm that one page of your diary the one you never wanna see again but you leave it in there and only think about tearing it out every time you flip through. Pollution, metal tastes, mouth open but never saying anything. I'd be a million plastic water bottles if it meant I could spill.

Nobody Gets to Know Me Because I Get to Know Them, 3/7/17

[everylevel]

Laundromat gyal

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Ghost girls have clawed my sweater sleeve and asked if it was juicy couture Held my wrist handle and flipped the pan over to cook the gooey side, baby flesh exposed I can't get the flakes of the dead off my clothes Rotten boys drilled into then filled to be saved Embalming fluid fusing with their heads, the shrunken pineal glands, the paints with the lead The parts we lost when we forgot how to eat with them The third eye Forgot how to tear meat with them The third eye Moon eye, lazy eye, blind eye All grown up and closed up But some people are never scared of jumping off swings or they're just good at playing brave Playing like they still invincible giants Fingers dipped in candles and the wax never hardens Boys in pink pants with huge paws tripping over themselves Seeing pretty where others saw erase blotches and question markings You know, children die so that adults don't have to And some of them get pulled until they're left with just string and no fabric God told me that you'd eat me when I cooled down But maybe I'm just good at putting words in his mouth

some kids I used to know are dead now

[everylevel]

Here is a list of things that know how to stretch: Flowers climbing towards the sun, jellyfish tentacles, chewing gum, rubber bands before they break, skin, muscles, yawns, a dollar, imagination, hours, days, weeks, veins The truth I've learned how to stretch myself too Into telephone wire appendages Reaching for the line on the other end A long thin shadow of myself during sunset Outstretched arms with a nail in each hand I'm like Jesus Christ murdered for your sins. There are three parts to every trinity And that means disharmony so I've stretched myself across all crucifixions My body painting the sky with skin pulled for miles Organs threatening to spill out and ruin the picture Or to make it more honest Splattering blood and stretching smiles that don't reach the eyes and Splattering things inside me that pull like elastic Splattering like vomit This is my body. It's not my responsibility to be beautiful just because I write poetry Poetry doesn't always mean pretty So swallow my name in between your teeth and don't speak it unless you know me The way I've known regeneration Respawning limbs stretched too far like starfish A shovel dragged across my skin White men tryna colonize it Buried when they no longer want it This is my body My truth I never gave this flesh to you This flesh was never meant for you I shoulda never tried to stretch for you Or you Or you There will be no more stretching Stretching means dying on a cross for other people's fuck ups Sitting in the kitchen Easter Sunday and thinking about resurrection Why should I have to die to teach all of yah a lesson Stretching means unfolding jellyfish tentacles when someone gets too close Short shadows at noon where I don't exist anymore The difference between supporting weight and carrying all of it Skin, muscles, yawns heart strings being plucked like harp strings The truth My words Growth means all these things but on my own terms Growth means ripping my palms through the nails and losing my hands I'll never be crucified ever again This is what I've learned about rubber bands: 1. Nobody gives a fuck about them. They'll stretch you as much as they want 2. You can be sacrificed and pulled for other and still go home to an empty room 3. Days to rise again is 3 days too many 4. Love as a verb shouldn't mean losing my body 5. Growth is not the same thing as being worn thin, you should never have to die for other people's sins 6. Satan never stretched for God cause she was a God too, and if one of the 7. Deadly sins is growth then I'm a sinner too 8. Growth is not the same thing as stretching 9. Growth means my body belongs to me no 10. Commandments necessary The holes in my palms where the nails went through won't always be holes

Father Stretch My Hands (but not too much)

[everylevel]

“but nothing means nothing / everything is fleeting / don’t get used to it”