things i wrote

just some passages from my diaries. i thought posting them somewhere might make me feel more permanent :) 21f, she/her

[justthingsiwrote]

they awakened god halfway across the world and all I can think about is your eyes

that I have tried to avoid time and time again, looking anywhere else to avoid that unbearable feeling, the second before a fall, the punch to the gut, the cold wave of realisation, the dull emptiness of reality, all these cushioned by a glimpse of the terrible thing that caused them in the first place. my field is changed forever. life is changed forever. a point of no return has been approached and all I can bring myself to think about is if you are thinking of me too. anxiety rises in my chest and threatens to break me open unless I hear how your day went. your laughter rings in my ears and (despite my best efforts) so do your moans. the breakdown of reality and religion cannot do to me a fraction of what the image of your face can. the question central to all humanity and science is in it's best position to be answered that it has ever been and I am pausing to ask instead what you had for lunch. i throw myself upon the altar of your most abstract qualities, there is not an ounce of objectivity in me. the scientist has dissolved. I am an animal.

[justthingsiwrote]

maybe its my eternal punishment but the original sin is evading me I've built so much around it that I cant separate what is real and what is not oh god let us talk forever and ever and ever I think we can echo each other into infinity and drift away into our imagined parallel realities together if the foundation is faulty what is holding together what was built on it? this brings corporeality to belief because a house cannot stand on nothing a life cannot be built on nothing otherwise it is not a life it is a delusion. or is there hope? hope of a misconception instead, not a crumbling of the whole but a de (by definition a re) construction of a part, though which part if all of it is cast into doubt? clarity is something I will never be blessed with. even now my beliefs are uncertain and these words come not from my mind but from my hands. hands which carry out the sin that the mind may or may not order. this does not make the mind less culpable. why all this talk of mind? it bears the punishment of its unwilling partner, bound together by nothing but chance, in no ordered universe would these traits have been placed near each other. this alone disproves the existence of a god. every passage that starts about me dissolves into abstraction, I cannot hold it (her?) together long enough for analysis. what have I gained by losing this? another strike against god, imbalance prevails yet again, something has been taken but nothing was given to replace it. I seem to be the sink into which all poison eventually drains.

[justthingsiwrote]

today i saw the high branch of a tree and a large fern and the leaves changing colour on a bush and i almost felt that i could be forgiven

[justthingsiwrote]

I dont know what to do I can't stop screwing up i can't confront myself to live i can't explain myself i can't separate these thoughts from feelings and these dreams from reality I can't show myself and i can't kill myself so all i do is be silent and grow mean and cold and distant and scared.

[justthingsiwrote]

i feel like ive been given pieces of something, some machine, something i need to assemble to get myself out, but no instructions, no help, no windows. im starting to think i might have to confront the fact that ive never been loved. and if ive never been loved i never will be loved, and i dont know why im holding these pieces, i dont know why i thought they would make something, i dont know how to live but that doesnt absolve me from living. god, why doesnt it absolve me from living.

[justthingsiwrote]

on scurvy, and how it rips open old wounds. maybe if i allow mine to be opened, it will make a map to my past, through the skinned knees and slit thighs and burned fingers, maybe it will open me up and feeling will pour out of me, alongside blood and seawater and all my sins that have been swirling in my body for years.

[justthingsiwrote]

On the morning of our departure, the sea and I sat in silence. It was low tide, leaving a large expanse of empty wet sand as it receded and giving the impression that it, too, wanted to be as far away from me as possible. The silence hung heavy between us, heavier now since I had gotten used to the sound of angry crashing on the shore. I looked to it for answers every day. The sea was god, the sea was fate, the sea was myself. I never got them. And now I was leaving. 

[justthingsiwrote]

god feels like a cruel joke to play on lonely people.

[justthingsiwrote]

the breakup depression feels so stupid to me because like. I am sobbing uncontrollably and a lifeless husk of a woman over a BOY???? it's like girl.... get up.... except the girl is me and i cannot get up I just want to disintegrate

[justthingsiwrote]

has anyone else only been able to make it to like 12pm before the melancholy hits them like a truck recently or should i see someone

[sowedpearls]

[justthingsiwrote]

on that night, as the clouds fractured and lay spilling around the moon, on the night the smoke drifted through the streets and under the cars and beyond the graveyard, on that night i was being chased. i was being chased by something large and unyielding, something almost dutiful in it's pursuit, something that could smell my fear. yet i did not run. i had been running for so long that all i could do was pray it would catch me before i sat down in the smoking circle, finish its duty before i would have to confront all that had been rushing through my mind those last few nights, the thoughts that had been forcing their way between my teeth and into my nostrils and down my throat. perhaps it had been sent as a mercy.

[justthingsiwrote]

i really don't know what to do with this sudden tenderness.

[justthingsiwrote]

The hotel was an ancient, crumbling thing, constantly under some kind of construction. Everything here was old and slow, the elevators, the water heaters, the staff. The hallways, dingy and narrow, made you feel overwhelmingly temporary. The floorboards were cracked and the walls were peeling, but the view was wonderful. Large, open kitchen windows that faced the ocean, the date palms swaying slowly in the breeze. Through the other windows, a graveyard, with colourful tombstones surrounded by huge, ominous-looking trees. The furniture and panelling was all made of the same kind of wood, warm and brown and comforting against the white walls. Being here felt like a brief respite from time. I spent my mornings half heartedly studying and sending countless emails to the elusive Sarah, who I was rapidly losing faith in hearing from. In the evenings we went to the beach, walking for hours along the shore and looking at the dying starfish in the sand. There were always a couple of oil fires in the distance, tall and bright, giving the impression of giant accusing eyes. I saw accusations everywhere those days, in the glances of strangers, in the soft rush of the sea, in the silence of my friends. 

[justthingsiwrote]

i really want to start writing my diaries in this style again, it felt super fun to be dramatic and tbh its one of the only things i dont cringe at on reading again.

[justthingsiwrote]

he's been on duty since the beginning of time. always providing just about enough, always saying just about the right thing. never letting the mask slip. never knowing where the mask ends or if there is a mask or if it is all one and the same. he has always been a father and never a person. i remember him crying only twice in my life: once at his own fathers funeral, and once when i told him the tv was too loud. he let a single tear fall, and i saw it. his greatest and only failure. i know now that it wasnt about the tv, but i was just a child and so confused, what could i have done, how could i have hurt him, and now i am afraid every step i take is a knife to his chest. i would take a thousand tears, a thousand knives, anything to learn how to heal him, even just to know how he is broken. he will never tell me if he is hurting and i will never ask. when i fail i fail not only myself but him and a thousand men before him who smile but never laugh, never cry, never betray anything less than perfect parental duty. i wonder if he has ever had room for joy of his own. i could never doubt he loved me, but i am convinced he would like me more if i had been anyone else. we were crafted together. i to disappoint, and him to love despite.

[justthingsiwrote]

it feels, to me, that things can only become this intensely beautiful just before they end.

[justthingsiwrote]

there is something here. out of sight but within earshot. of this i am certain. maybe its god. maybe its my mind breaking because i cant accept that im alone. but whatever it is. its here.