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@jasperambrosemoon
Intro to my Page & Masterlist of Writing
What up, I'm Jasper, I'm 19, and I never fucking learned how to read! :D
In all seriousness, welcome to my dark little corner of Tumblr, I'm Jasper (otherwise known as Jasper Moon), and I am indeed 19. I like writing stories and poetry (I've figured out that trauma deeply helps to write poems :D).
The Water Always Wins
- Jasper Moon
My brain is a boat
in the center of the ocean,
a storm raging all around.
The water crashes against the sides.
It threatens to force us under.
My brain was weak,
riddled with cracks and leaks I was never able to fix.
I tried to patch them,
to cover them with pretty pictures.
Pretty pictures can't fix wounds like these.
The water wins.
The water always wins.
My brain goes under.
It drags me down with it.
I struggle and gasp for air and try to stay afloat.
I don't know how to swim.
No one taught me how.
So eventually,
I give in.
I let the water swallow me.
I never stood a chance.
----------------------------------------------------------
NOTES:
- written Apr. 14th 2026
- (maybe no so) fun fact: I actually don't know how to swim
When I Grow Up
- Jasper Moon
I never got to grow into myself,
only get pushed further away.
I never got to be me.
I was who my parents told me I was.
I was a puppet,
like my brother said,
but not in the way that he thought.
I was a puzzle --
one I was never taught how to put together.
My pieces are warped now;
from so many years of my parents
forcing them to make an image that wasn't mine.
I'm not sure what the image is meant to look like anymore.
I'm not sure I ever did.
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NOTES:
- written Mar. 30th 2026
- this is taken from one of my journal entries
- I believe the title was also meant to be a reference to Matilda the musical
lonely nights and quiet days
- Jasper Moon
the emptiness of the quiet
the coldness of the warmth
a life devoid of life
----------------------------------------------------------
NOTES:
- written Feb. 21st 2026
Heard
- Jasper Moon
Sound gets caught in my throat,
fighting to be released.
Sometimes, there's just a curtain --
push it aside, and I am allowed to create,
to produce something meaningful.
But sometimes the curtain reveals nothing but a wall of bricks.
There is no way around.
No way over,
no way through.
I spend hours with a chisel,
working open a hole in the brick,
only for someone to come along and patch it.
Only for me to be closed off from the world once more.
I will spend my entire life,
chisel in hand,
if it means my voice will be heard.
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NOTES:
- written Feb. 9th 2026
- written for my college freshman acting class
Different
- Jasper Moon
My passion rests just below the surface.
A fire is lit --
the passion starts to bubble.
But it never reaches a boil.
And it certainly never boils over.
Only ever a simmer.
It just rests.
My passion never extends further
than an idea,
than the hint of action.
I don't have the energy.
I try to light the fire,
but half the time the spark isn't even there.
And when it is,
it's never quite enough.
And so I rest.
In the hopes that maybe one day,
maybe I'll wake up,
maybe it'll be different.
Maybe.
Maybe I'll be different.
Maybe I'll find me again.
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NOTES:
- written Jan. 12th 2026
The Reason My Heart Still Beats
- Jasper Moon
I don't create art because I simply want to.
I create art because it is my entire being.
It is who I am in every possible way.
The ability to create is the greater piece of my soul.
I live it,
I breathe it,
it flows through my veins in place of blood --
it is the reason my heart still beats.
I am nothing without my art.
I mean nothing but to create.
The day I stop making art,
is the day I am dead.
To live is to create.
To create is to be alive.
I am my art.
I am art.
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NOTES:
- written Dec. 15th 2025
one can dream
- Jasper Moon
life is so beautiful;
though sometimes,
it's hard to recognize the beauty
through the fog of your mind.
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NOTES:
- written Dec. 11th 2025 (estimate)
- this originally came from the caption/description on one of my Pinterest boards of the same title
Passion Dies
- Jasper Moon
A chasm in my chest.
Echoes in the emptiness.
Desperate pleading to create,
my mind running blank.
Artists upon artists,
songs, stories, harvests --
a world coming together,
pieces of eachother.
A collage of humanity,
my piece hiding in obscurity.
My words clawing to escape,
trapped in place.
A raging storm,
a silent room --
words falling on deaf ears,
actions falling on blind eyes.
Spinning,
spinning --
the world keeps spinning,
there's no fucking winning.
Begging,
begging,
begging,
anything to get rid of this fucking feeling.
Trapped,
crying,
screaming,
lost in my hollow mind.
The me before blown away in the wind.
A shell of cracking bones,
rotting flesh,
muscle, skin.
Who am I?
Who am I?
Who am I?
Why do I exist?
Any meaning at all,
leave me to crawl
through the dirt,
through the mud.
Foundations
ripped from beneath my feet.
Carpet peeled away
to reveal damaged wood.
Far beyond restoration,
a fleeting reason to remain.
Thoughts swirling in my brain,
screaming to refrain.
Hurling,
words curling
around my throat,
dread unfurling behind my ribs.
Bones snap and break,
life takes and takes
until nothing makes
sense.
Lost
lost...
Lost.
How much will this cost?
Money.
Heart.
Knowledge.
Passion.
What will be left?
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing is left.
Nothing.
Lost.
Who am I?
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NOTES:
- written Oct. 27 & 28, 2025
- yes, the title is a Falsettos reference
Floating or Failing?
- Jasper Moon
The feather doesn't float
because that is what it wants.
The feather floats
because that is all it knows.
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NOTES:
- written Oct. 27, 2025
Follow the Path
- Jasper Moon
I regret everything,
yet I regret nothing.
Certain moments,
certain experiences,
make me desperately wish
I had picked a different option.
But then again,
every choice I made
led me here.
Led me to people who make me feel like me.
I thought I was scared to lose my friends before;
before I found my friends here.
I feel college means the stakes have been raised.
Like if they leave,
they're gone forever.
If they leave,
I'll have to do this alone.
But if I go too,
I'll have to restart anyway.
I didn't have a clue what I was doing before.
Now I'm somewhere new,
only that feeling hasn't gone away.
I still feel trapped --
my parents hovering over me.
God, how disappointed they'd be
if both their kids were college dropouts.
And while dropping out calls to me,
no better option does.
I either stay alone,
or go back "home."
That place isn't my home.
I feel like I'm only now beginning to understand
what home can feel like --
home in people.
Nothing feels right.
How am I supposed to know what to do
when nothing feels right?
I look out my window and all I can think is
"What am I doing?"
I go to my classes and all I can think is
"Why did I choose this?"
I hang out with my friends
and all I can think is
"I don't want to lose this."
I don't want to lose them.
I'm scared.
I don't say that very often.
But I'm scared.
No one prepared me for this --
for meeting people who feel like home
only for them to want to go back to their own.
And of course I want them to do what's best,
but I selfishly want them to stay.
I've never known how to make friends.
I don't want to do that alone.
And I know if we're really friends
it won't matter how far apart we are.
But that doesn't stop the ache in my chest,
that desperate longing to keep them close.
That desperation doesn't seem to ease.
It aches and aches
at every twist and turn
and thought and moment.
It feels like my heart
is about to rip out of my chest
or fall through my stomach to my feet.
Am I a bother?
Am I too much?
I'm tired.
I'm so tired.
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NOTES:
- written Oct. 13, 2025
- i wrote this at 1 in the morning after having an existential crisis pretty much all day lol -- though, at the very least, i got out of the dorm and went on a walk, so that was nice :>
Prompt: Worries
- Jasper Moon
Prompt 1: Make a list of what you worry about
Public speaking
Making new friends
Inviting friends to do things
Bothering people
Job interviews
Not having a job after I graduate
Grades
Picking the wrong major / career
People
People
People
Did I mention people?
Making a fool of myself
Saying the wrong thing
Not being good enough
What if people don’t like me?
What if my friends don’t want to hang out?
What if they think I’m texting them too much?
What if they think I’m not texting enough?
Do my friends actually like me?
Does anyone actually like me?
Am I too much?
Am I not enough?
What if I disappoint everyone?
What if I disappoint my family?
What if my family doesn’t accept me?
What if they disown me for being trans?
What if…
What if…
What if…
Losing everyone I care about --
Everyone I care about leaving me
Being alone for the rest of my life
Not having anything to live for
Prompt 2: Why are you so worried?
Society is full of expectations -- expectations that are all but beaten into us from such a young age that they begin to consume you. They consume me. They creep into every thought, every word, every action -- they curl into every crevice of my brain, wrapping itself around my skull until it feels like that’s all that’s left. It’s like a parasite, feeding off my fears, growing bigger and stronger, doing everything in its power to drag me down with it until I die and it can move on to its next victim. People can say that everything will be fine -- and maybe somewhere deep down I know that -- but the parasite of worries doesn’t care about logic. It cares how much fear and anxiety it can feed off of. I’m worried because society made me that way. I’m worried because people made me that way. Because every time I interact with another person, I’m reminded of all the times before when someone thought I was weird or bad or wrong, and all I can think about is how much they won’t like me if I’m me. I’m worried because money -- because capitalism runs society, and capitalism doesn’t like artists, and being an artist is all I have. I’m worried because we can do everything right and still fail. And failing means I lost.
Prompt 3: Make a list of what influences and expectations you operate under
Parents
Teachers
Friends
Authority figures
Grades
Being a good friend
Being a good student
Being a good child
Being a good person
Society
Myself.
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NOTES:
- written as a 5 minute in class writing for my college freshman english class
- written Oct. 9, 2025
- i made it more creative as i was writing; i wrote the list like it was supposed to be sort of poetic, and i just liked how it turned out and wanted to share
Existence is a Chore
- Jasper Moon
TW: mentions of death
I don't want to die.
I just wish I didn't exist.
I wish I hadn't been born.
Because dying
means losing all the good.
I don't deserve to be here --
no, that's not right.
I do deserve to be here,
I just don't have the goals,
the aspirations,
to make anything of myself.
I want to live,
but not by society's standards.
I want to see the world,
explore and make friends,
and simply enjoy
what life has to offer.
I don't want to be stuck
working in an office
at a job I hate --
or worse
working a job I love
only to not have the money to survive.
I don't want to live my life
struggling and in pain.
So I wish I hadn't been born.
If I hadn't been born,
I wouldn't feel the pain
of loss,
of love,
of joy.
You can't miss
what you never had.
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NOTES:
- written Oct. 8, 2025
The Fool
- Jasper Moon
There's an ache in my chest,
a longing for a calling,
a painful need to want.
I want to want.
To live,
to do something.
Nothing feels right.
Nothing calls to me
the way it does for others.
How is everyone so sure?
Why am I not?
Where did I get lost?
It feels as though the rules
are in a foreign language.
As though society wants only
to mock me.
To make me the fool.
Who allowed me to believe
that I could be... anything?
Why was I so sure...?
----------------------------------------------------------
NOTES:
- written Oct. 8, 2025
Embers
- Jasper Moon
This empty feeling in my stomach
swallowing me whole,
collapsing in on myself like a dying star.
My light fades with every passing day,
leaving a dull flicker
where that passionate little girl once drew.
Those pictures, however messy,
were the blueprint of who I was meant to be.
A waste of potential.
Who am I to think I am anything special?
I am no different than every other ambitious artist.
Only my ambition comes from a digustingly desperate need to be good enough.
I will never be good enough.
I am here to disappoint.
My art lacks a spark I once held,
a spark that refuses to grow,
a spark I am desperately trying to fan,
desperately trying to catch fire.
That fire I see burning in others --
I wish it burned in me.
----------------------------------------------------------
NOTES:
- written Aug. 10, 2025
1 in 4.
- Jasper Moon
TW: vague mentions of sexual assault
This feeling lurks over my shoulder
like a stalker hunting its prey.
It looms over me,
ever waiting,
a shadow trying to consume me.
It feels inevitable,
like no matter what I do,
there's no avoiding what may happen to me;
what a man may put me through.
I live my life in fear that I may be next,
that I may end up another statistic.
That I may be the 1 in a group of 4.
That when I stand beside my friends
that I will be harboring a secret
that I am desperately trying to bury.
I wonder how many people I know
have been through the unimaginable.
How many of them
can't speak what happened to them.
How many of them
can hardly live with themselves.
How many suffer,
live in fear.
How many are the 1 in 4?
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NOTES:
- written Jul. 20, 2025
- inspired by Trust (2010)
Exerpt: Fuga y Misterio
- Jasper Moon
And then it was only us, the dancers seeming to slow in step beside us until all that was left was me and him. The quartet was all we could hear, eachothers hands held tightly in our own. My whole focus zoned in on my love in front of me, the one I wasn’t meant to have. That love would never leave me; no matter how far, no matter those who force us apart. The world may not see it, but I know it in my soul -- love written in the stars, in the stone beneath our feet, in the breeze that rattles the leaves in every tree we’ve passed, every tree we’ll meet. Our steps fall in time, in line, each move we make comes natural, as though we’ve known this dance our entire lives. That look on his face is as gentle as the feeling that seeps out of my heart, flowing through every vein in my body, aching to get out. I’m so desperate to hold onto this moment, to never leave, to hold it close to my heart and never let go. I don’t know when we’ll get to see each other again. I want to live in this moment forever. I would do anything to stay in this moment. There is not an ounce of doubt in my bones that this is what my life was supposed to look like. More gentle moments, only us. Forever us.
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NOTES:
- written Apr. 5, 2025
- inspired by the piece Fuga y Misterio composed by Astor Piazzolla, specifically the ending solo and slower part -- fun fact about me, Piazzolla is my favorite composer. i highly recommend listening to Fuga y Misterio, or literally any of his pieces, he's fantastic.