kimi

just spewing whatever comes to my mind not so early 20’s | she/her

[kimirambles]

Kind of an emotional masochism is there in keeping everything to yourself and pretending to be strong while it eats you away.

[kimirambles]

Kind of an emotional masochism is there in keeping everything to yourself and pretending to be strong while it eats you away.

[astriloquum]

[mournfulroses]

Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Mrs. Holland, featured in The Letters of Emily Dickinson

[velvetversesjournal]

Stumbling and hesitating

Silence flows through my veins

It grows within me

A quiet home full of ink

[achillesinhighheels]

[kimirambles]

so I sit with myself, I see all versions of her.

After the countless, utterly pointless battles with her; I see someone who still hopes.

Didn’t you say you wouldn’t do so? Why?

Tattered will, bruised heart, undecided mind, on the ground, seething with bright eyes as I tell her “it’s hopeless. you’ve never done anything, you’re so flawed, useles—” our eyes meet.

silence drapes us, me. the critic and the sweet child who hopes still shines, though bruised.

I cease the war. I sit down in defeat.

I was never kind. Always selfish. As if I always knew everything about others.

Kind to everyone but not to me. Selfish. Selfish.

how could I be kind, when I was never kind to her?

I still get angry, but I remember her hand clutching my sleeve; for her— I will. It’s okay to let her hope, to let her breathe, to live…for me.

it’s okay to hope. it’s okay to want. it’s okay to want good things. it’s okay. it is okay.

[oleskyfm]

[brokenbythesirensound]

[iwilleatyourenglish]

my partner and i have become fixated on this stupid comment left by a conspiracy theorist on instagram and we can't stop saying it and i just know i'm gonna slip up and say it to a normal person

[iwilleatyourenglish]

[angelicdust]

[kimirambles]

And one day it settles down slowly. Scattered, barely visible dust particles suspended in air, settle layer by layer on the surface. That’s how grief works. A somber realization, a quiet ache that you cannot name. Your little spark hiding beneath layers, so you could see this fine layer of dust, that has been collecting for years; from giving more than receiving, bending backwards, losing yourself to keep others. A silent erasure for yourself, so grief settles in; not to tell you that ‘you have lost yourself’ but to let you know the unfamiliar ache of every inconvenience you have done to yourself to be convenient for others. Grief is not loud, it is definitely not on the forefront. It is the sigh feels heavier slowly. But fret not, the spark is never lost. It is always in you.

Light will sneak in through the cracks. You will find the window again, open it and let the light in. You will breathe in, feel the ribs expanding with the fresh breath of air and slowly exhale. The sun always rises. The sun always rises.

[Disclaimer: the pics are all mine btw! everything is what I’ve captured. ]

[kimirambles]

Maybe I was meant for the sidelines. Meant to cheer for others, watch them participate. But I cannot want that. It is too pure, it is too luxurious, too much but I’m too little for it.

I lean forward against the railing watching everyone have someone to walk by with— I longingly sigh, I yearn, but I know; I was meant to watch others from the sidelines.

[the pics are mine! And comments and reblogs are appreciated! Constructive criticism too :) ]

[kimirambles]

Was it your incapacity in loving me or was it me being a fool? Was it because we had so many differences or was it because you didn’t care as much as I did? Was it love at some point or was it plainly just lust? Was I conjuring up a loft dream with you; when to you— I was not more than a mere afterthought? But I knew, it would all come to an end. Despite knowing better, I held on— to a sliver of hope, that you too would care. I forgot, I forgot myself while trying to love you. I forgot my needs for you. I lost myself in loving you, that when you left— a part of me also left. In you, I saw me. In you, I saw love. In your eyes, I saw god.

[kimirambles]

“Maybe the longer way home is a good way to smell the flowers and still know that you’ll reach home, and by home—maybe, it’s you, maybe it’s me. A home.”

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Gustave Flaubert, from a letter to Louise Colet (via letsbelonelytogetherr)

[paper-wounds]

[achillesinhighheels]