cia

[hopeless-violence]

oh, every melody with the sweetest tone coming out from your lungs delivered using your mouth across to my ears / they are always the sweetest to hear, listening to the sound i can call home, so warm and comforting—but how can they be so deceiving? how can such calming melodies lead to dread? how can just the the thought of your comforting words once again be so gut-wrenching when the memory of it gushes through my brain you left an imprint on / the fleeting act of your tenderness will always be left lingering echoing in my heart.

[hopeless-violence]

With each day creeping in, all the tenderness in my heart dissolves and transforms every fragments to discomfort knowing i am letting every moment existing slip through my fingers. A haunting presence of nostalgia itself consumes me whole, yet i thrive to embrace the pain whole. Say, i endure the agony that prolonged longer more than the memories I've lost.

[hopeless-violence]

and just like that, the months have passed. all i have now is the lingering cold of december, thriving to keep myself warm despite the weariness. the unceasingly heaviness i prolonged to endure as my hands are barely holding in the destruction of my existence. i am yearnful for a good change, for this is unsurvivable.

all i have done is to beg for everything to be gentle with me until I've starved till the last month of the year—but all i was left with was lonely grieving nights: so full of despair and unheard woes.

[hopeless-violence]

the truth is, i do not wish to isolate myself. i ought to be acknowledged on why i wanted to do so. the desire to run away from everyone isn't equivalent to the desire to be understood. i realized that i wanted to be seen and known, hence, i am afraid to be seen in a deeper sense—therefore, i thought that isolation was an easier way.

[hopeless-violence]

on cold nights like this, i ought to realize that i have long denied the countless feelings i have felt but remorse. i rue the times i have split myself apart just to prove my own suffering to myself. the scars i have left in the thinness of my skin have always felt shallow, as if my wounds are nothing compared to one's excruciating pain; because they were not bleeding. a thirteen year old girl hopes for nothing but to feel validated. therefore, i live with the vileness of regret inside my chest.

[hopeless-violence]

my words and my heart weren't enough to give

it is vile, not being good enough. words are not enough to describe the agony inside my heart. all the feeling this incompleteness could present me was weariness. i am exhausted rather fatigued, i tried to be the best but is trying akin to no purpose?

[hopeless-violence]

this anger will soon consume the fragments of my soul eventually. as my way of persisting to endure finally becomes shallow, and i am no longer able to scream in silence. god, it is agonizing how the silence of my rage is beyond my heart can handle. my hands will soon refuse to hold my destructive existence and I'll scream until my last pulse completely fades. I will deliberately let anger slip out of my tongue. I will loudly unsuppress atop the layers of my silenced throat, for all I've done is to endure.

[hopeless-violence]

Disgust is a monster that lingers within the days where I wake up in the morning to feel the sensation of repulsiveness for my own consciousness, I've grown to loathe myself to an extent where I understood why my mother's eyes have always held wrath towards me, it's enough evidence on how such existence can averse one—I myself have abominated the concept of my own presence as it is extremely exhausting to live such an unnecessary aliveness. To exist in a life to be so full of self disgust is the biggest punishment I was given for just being conscious, it's as if persisting to live is a cruel sin; I have done nothing but to be a very hateful woman towards my own self to a degree where I've always thought that my presence is extremely harmful.

[hopeless-violence]

"I never wanted a future until you stated that you stated you wanted one"

For have I always loathed the idea of myself persisting in the near future as I know I have no capability of surviving; I am a despiteful woman whose mind is filled with hopelessness and despair—I have far neglected the concept of my own existence for it to even reach for a longer time.

Although, that did not stay the same as you spoke about how you've seen me in your future with you, something about that made me meet the desire to thrive and collect the bits of my soul I've left scattered—maybe I wanted to live.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[hopeless-violence]

For have I neglected the idea of affection for a long time while, say, I've committed to loving someone again. The tension of agitation builds up, the devastating salvation as my destructive presence was held by your unharming hands have me enthralled. Never have I thought I had the capacity of having someone to persist in my violence; with that, I ached to be selfish. I want you all to myself as you presented me with a feeling I've never had.

[hopeless-violence]

I'll caress you in my arms with pure greediness, hence the fact you'll be bleeding with the tendency of violence I raise upon my own devotion towards you; you will be suffocated by my tight grasp. To be loved by me is truly agonizing.