Saltwater Dreams

I'm not disappearing anymore.

[lo-ki-love-deactivated20160918]

Date someone who is aware and reflective of their behavior.

[longdaysxxlongnights-deactivate]

What a fucking concept

[kehnee-blog]

I had a good day today, I just need to stop staying up.

[kehnee-blog]

One of the hardest things for me to come to terms with is being cheated on. It's been a couple of months since it has happened and it still sucks. It would be easier if I talked it out with people I trusted, but I don't like coming off like I'm victimizing myself of how I feel. I get so worried about how my friends and family would perceive me that I just bite my tongue and don't say anything. I hate feeling like I'm a burden to people or I don't want the people closest to me thinking I'm weak for not getting over it by now. It's so frustrating because I was so set with myself. I was confident and I was pursuing my passions. And it sucks even writing about this because it just feels like I'm making excuses. I'm so conflicted with myself everyday and I get so bothered by little things because it reminds me of what happened. My anxiety levels feel high. I'm constantly overthinking and I don't want to feel like this. I know it's a process, but I hate it. My mental fortitude is crap now after building it up so much. I feel like people think I've changed or I'm overly sensitive now and that feeling sucks. I really wanted to just vent about this but it seems like I'm holding back again. I'm so worried nowadays and it makes me sad.

[kehnee-blog]

Homelessness is a man who doesn't remember how to take off his shoes.

[kehnee-blog]

I’ve been antsy lately. It’s been bugging me because I always feel like I’m pumped on adrenaline constantly. My mental state has been kind of wonky and I don’t like feeling as if I’m hitting some new lows. I think my interactions lately with people have been subpar at best. It’s sad because it’s all I have. I need to reset myself properly and get level headed as soon as possible. 

[kehnee-blog]

"Here's the thing. People are scumbags; that's just how it is. People are capable of change, yes? But, honestly, why go through that effort to change when you're not hurting yourself? If I had told myself and taught myself that people were selfish mother fuckers, I would've booked it a long time ago! Honestly, I hate it. The selfish and conniving individuals who do whatever the fuck they want with no regard of those around them. They will kick you when you're down and continue to use your broken bones to start a fire in their own heart before they would even think about showing compassion." "So, what then? Why stick around people? It would be safer to just be by yourself and remove yourself from ever getting hurt." "Because -- people are capable of change."

Conversations I'll never have #5

[kehnee-blog]

I hated the way you looked at me. Your eyes dug into my skin as if you were nothing but a shell. The hue of your voice tore into my skull. I felt the rise and fall of my chest. My eyes dilated as I felt anxiety take over me. I wanted to leave. I knew exactly what I needed to do, but, I couldn’t. There was something in me that wanted to continue to compromise. I laid on that bed. I felt my stomach curl inside itself as every breath felt like barbed wire escaping from my throat. The room was cold and the only comfort I found was on the walls. The sun continued to rise and I continued to spiral. My body relaxed. My eyes were heavy. I found something inside of myself to fall asleep.

[perrfectly]

You don’t need another human being to make your life complete, but let’s be honest. Having your wounds kissed by someone who doesn’t see them as disasters in your soul, but cracks to put their love into, is the most calming thing in this world.

Emery Allen  (via perrfectly)

[kehnee-blog]

Hey guys I'm just here for writing! Always enjoyed meeting new people but if you're planning on doing some crazy stuff like get underneath my skin and fuck me over please don't! Thank you!!!!

[kehnee-blog]

He is a motel with the vacancy sign on. His heart a furnace that no longer spreads warmth to his rooms. The smell of burnt wood smears across his skin. His stomach filled with the push and pull of ocean waves yet he cannot find the courage to swim. His toes, dipped into the edge of the shore, drag broken landscapes and stories of ships never making it back home. What does it mean to breathe, he wonders. His fists cradle his mother's laugh; and open palms remind him to let go. Lonely is a color that stains his fingertips blue.

what it means to be human #2

[kehnee-blog]

When I have writer’s block, I either shut myself off from thinking about writing or I force myself to sit here and sift through my thoughts.

When I see my mother, I see red. The Khmer Rouge  forced its way into her veins, but she found her way home and raised two kids. I hope to have a sliver of her strength.

I used to be so upset that I was losing everyone around me, but I haven’t lost anyone. They are there, we just haven’t said hello in a while.

I keep coming back to typewriter fingertips and soft hues.

I would say I’ve been in a slump these past couple of months, but I feel more confident than ever now. I love myself more than ever.

I still haven’t gotten over the fact that a natural death and suicide strikes different cords in me. 

I can feel the sun peeling through my window to show itself. The light is swaying on my walls. 

You are a garden that I will tend to for the rest of my life. 

[kehnee-blog]

I feel your heart beating into pulp and dry. Every artery pumping out your saltwater dreams, but I swear, I know you can swim again. 

[kehnee-blog]

besides wanting to express myself, one of the reasons why I write here is so one day someone will tell me that my words have resonated with them in some way or simply for them to go ‘how the fuck did you just write what im feeling.’ 

[kehnee-blog]

There is a garden beginning to grow through the white of my ribs and the roots begin with you.

what it means to be human #2

[kehnee-blog]

He is the small cottage, made for two, by the shoreline thinking he could withstand a storm. The cracks on those winding streets waiting to be filled. His lungs punctured by her lips; thinking he could still breathe. His hands are no longer soft. His fingers are molded by the soft beats of her heart when she held on too tightly.  His mouth is an ocean filled with her poetry. Every exhale followed by her laugh. What a mess. What a bloody mess he is.

what it means to be human #1

[blossomfully]

He’d never cared much for strawberries, but that summer her lips were so stained with the juices that they were all he tasted. And he’d never had a favourite fruit, but two years later, a new girl is sat in front of him, laughing at his jokes. “If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?” She asks playfully. And he remembers how her hands traced the veins in his neck and made their way across his chest. He remembers her soft breathing and limbs draped across his shoulders. “Strawberries.” He tells her. “I could live a life on nothing but strawberries.”

S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #54 -“Strawberries” (via blossomfully)

[kehnee-blog]

I have walked into the lion's den without knowing that I'm wearing nothing more than zebra fur.

K