Inconsistent monologues @inconsistentmonologues - Tumblr Blog

crbbcrbb

alley-rose-deactivated20180701

Grainy knife gifs are my fav

inconsistentmonologues

Tattoo appreciation ❤️

Issa cutie✨

???

comadidas

marleens-diary-deactivated20160

rose-of-salem

shawtysantana

a girlfriend is a potential wife if you ask me. relationships are investments not hobbies. y'all gotta grow up.

inconsistentmonologues

I lie awake each night and question my interpretation of what’s wrong and what’s right, and whether I might see things differently if it wasn’t for that wave of dark that washed away the light. And my obsession is obsessing over the lies that I was sold and the lies that I have told, and questioning if when the devil took hold, he had asked whether hell had ever felt quite so cold. Because “Forever” Was the greatest lie she ever sold, and when I swore id never leave I did the same, truth be told. And depression took the form of a revolving door, as the ceiling would fall and embrace with the floor. Maybe it’s finally time that I learn to reap what i’ve sewn, and embrace the fact I lack the function to ever tarnish the soil by planting seeds of my own. And though at first distressing, I find myself confessing I now see it as a blessing, that all of my branches are broken and torn, and despite these splinters that have pierced the skin I’ve worn and embedded themselves within my core, I’ve somewhat learned from my past, and maybe I’ve grown. But I’m never all that sure, because what if there’s a demon in my veins and this is just the cure from above - that I might come to terms with myself and accept that everything I could give was never enough. I’ve came to the realisation that through my own selfish fixation, I mistinterpreted her intentions and blinded myself to the basic connotations, and it’s simply a product of inconsistent thoughts and not the air that got stuck in my head, wrapped around my mind to silence the screams before the oxygen reached my lungs and the devil could be fed. And the letters that fell from your lips spoke a truth I had long since aborted, because you had sorted through the fiction and you finally felt supported. And even though I knew I was wrong it still stung, so I laced my words with venom and left you with silence as I swallowed my tongue. Maybe fate interjected, and it was gods will that my affections be rejected. But why would he formulate convictions like these, conspiring to inflict further pain and disease upon those that are already infected. And all of my intentions were dissected when my body was rejected, because I was nothing but a failed design in his eyes when I was tested. Because we were all created to be creators and that was our only purpose. So why was I built with broken parts and abandoned with a broken heart, seeking answers from above the clouds and beneath the stars in the hope that one day they might surface. Maybe one day I’ll understand why I was born to grow worthless.

Christian Wheble / inconsistentmonologues (via inconsistentmonologues)

inconsistentmonologues

I confined myself to solitary confinement, to hunt the constellations in search of solar alignment. Recalling vaguely parallel lines that briefly intersected, creating something beautiful yet unexpected before opportunity did call and it was suddenly bisected. And depression took the form of a revolving door, as the ceiling would fall and embrace with the floor. I’ve lost hold of my soul once before, sinking deeper into the same old hole but expecting something more. The poison stirred within a chalice half empty, acting to douse the flames of last nights torment and yesterday’s regret. It festers away in my veins today Convoluting thoughts and diluting DNA, like leaves that are carried away by a summer night stream, pulling me aside from absent minded dreams of intertwined lives and shared graves. That i might someday be swept out by the currents and waves, and be dragged deep beneath the open sea where I might find the missing piece of me that I constantly seek, or maybe this is all just in my head - and it’s my mind and not my body that’s weak, to think that I’d be better off dead. I’ll throw these empty hands out wildly in your direction, with fingertips that scar your skin to re establish some connection, my lack of empathy that covers up my desperate need for your affection; perhaps I’ll fall foul of my own illusions but I swear that that was never my intention; that these broken arms of mine might somehow offer you protection. But what if I could be the shoulder on which your tears might one day collide and dry, in a hidden space between the bones in my chest where you can lie whenever you feel the need to hide. To heal the fractures from a prior impact which at the time you lacked the versatility to displace yourself from the affinity, but still I fear that you might cut your skin upon the shattered glass of the ceiling i had broken; the night that we’d first spoken; and you might bleed for long enough that the beast inside my soul be woken. So I’ll set fire to myself in this half made bed just to coteries the nerve endings, or at least numb them instead, because I’d rather feel nothing at all, than feel like a burden forever in your debt. Where all I can see is the frame that borders the reflection, but it’s a reflection that I can no longer recognise in spite of detailed inspection. So I’ll keep tearing away at the layers of skin that grew over this shell, ripping at each and every piece till theres nothing of value left in this body of bones in which I dwell, where the lines have blurred the distinctions between heaven and hell. Exposing lovers under cover in a void that’s fit for two but occupied by at least one other, I guess I should have listened to the words of my mother, devoted myself and my words to a single love before I sought another.

Christian Wheble / inconsistentmonologues (via inconsistentmonologues)