[l1ttlef0x]

And I think part of me despises my Mom for what a good person she can be. That she's capable of goodness, she just wouldn't be that person for me.

And I think I react poorly to my Father because I've seen him show love. Tenderness. Just never to me.

These people who, despite having three other ongoing failed projects, decided to take up another assignment..

These people who don't even care for one another, yet believed they could care for each other's offspring.. I can only offer to them the darkest space in my mind. The one I dont go to often.

This is my token of kindness to them, offerring them a seat at the table even if it is the farthest from me. I will always feed them.

[palepinkfairy]

[l1ttlef0x]

I work hard to maintain my sadness. I painfully lace it into each second of my life. I have to. Because what is pain if it is not me? And what am I if not pain?

It is the thing that is profusely scribbled into the corners of my mind.. insufferably so. And I am the overwhelming feeling that renders people uncomfortable in their everyday lives.

We are the same, pain and I. More so than I'd like to admit. So I'll keep it around until one of us grows bored of the other.

[l1ttlef0x]

I saw something that said 'if a person states that they're - just tired, when asked how they are.. they will likely commit in the near future.

But I've been saying it for years

[l1ttlef0x]

I think i have lived more than enough.

Now I just kind of... float.

Like a planet we forgot the name of, or a shape thats shape is a little off.

Like a tidal wave when no one's there, like the voice no one hears because nobody cares.

Like your mother before the aisle, like the toys sat in a pile..

I am a childs option that was never chosen. An equation that didnt equate to me.

Does that make sense?

[l1ttlef0x]

20 minutes ago, I tried to 💀.

Now, I don't feel anything.

Miraculous.

[l1ttlef0x]

I am CHOOSING to hate you.

In the same way that I wake up in the morning and CHOOSE to be kind.

It is a great kindness, for myself.

[l1ttlef0x]

Dear Mom,

I was assigned to write you a letter, by someone I dont talk to anymore, about half a year ago. So here goes.

I have an intense connection to poetry, or maybe simply the rhyming of words, but there are no syllables that may be forced together which would narrow the distance between us. The distance that I put there.

We are two sides of the same coin in that I am your reflection, yet never your exact match. We have always been so similar in our cruelty. And sometimes also in our kindness.

You taught me to admire the underdog, but also to remind them of their place. That they can be loved but they must remember why they were once not.

You taught me to cradle the babe, but falter when it cries. To hand it back.

You taught me to prick my finger on every sharp object but hide each wound like a crime. Because it is frowned upon to hold your history too closely, lest you see where you went wrong.

I find you in most songs about love, and loss, and dying, and living.

You have the tolerance of a Knight, yet the patience of a King. If that makes sense, mom.

There are so many words too say, but I'll be writing for the rest of my days regardless - it would be a pity if all my words connected back to you.

So let me preach, on my little blog, about the sins you teach. And the girl-like-dog.

I was trained so well, until I bit. And mother it was Hell, until I relinquished it.

Our relationship, so dedicated and frail. Girl-like-dog gives lip, and woman-like-wolf simply says 'I've set sail.'

The ocean is nice, if you can swim. Girl-like-dog fights, but woman-like-wolf will win.

[l1ttlef0x]

I lock my doors before I sleep.

Its quite the quite the behavior from a scared, little sheep.

I just dont trust you, alcoholics.

'You'll be fine'? Dont believe you, if I'm honest.

And this poem doesn't rhyme,

And it's not even in time,

But what does that even mean?

To a girl afraid to have been..

In a particular place in the house where she lives..

Or atleast where she rests her head and gives-

A safe place for the cat to do the same.

But the doors are locked - to keep them safe.

[l1ttlef0x]

I imagine when I meet death she'll be wearing white. We'll walk hand in hand down an isle built of every stick and stone that ever tried to break me. She'll hold my hand tighter than anyone has ever before because she will love me in the way I have not been loved before - unconditionally. I will probably cry when we reach the alter because the walk will have tired me out - it's a long walk from nowhere to somewhere. Death and I will look eachother in the eye and swear fealty but she will know that our allegiance began the day I was forced from the womb; the birthplace of death. She will likely smile, and for the first time, meaningfully, I will too.

[l1ttlef0x]

And the thing is: I built this thing from the ground up.

This violent, sad thing. It's me, as I am it.

It's not going anywhere, it's too fragile to let go of. Don't you know how dangerous it is out there?

[l1ttlef0x]

I will love anything if it holds me the right way.

Which is possibly at arms length, over 80% of the time.

[l1ttlef0x]

All the people walk past as I burn on the pyre.

All the children run fast as the flames do not tire.

All the parents shout 'hey! Leave room for our fires!'

While not realizing I am tied, my fate dire.

Or maybe they know and they see but rise higher -

To negotiate with better God's, who only perspire.

Because the God's, though are beauty, are nothing but liars.

And the very same who tied the girl to the pyre.

[l1ttlef0x]

'You will still be

You.

You must live in spite of all of this.'

- Kathleen Glasgow 'The Glass Girl'

[l1ttlef0x]

Just found some old messages from my Mom. She doesn't have any clue what she did wrong.

She thinks it was the divorce.

No, Mom, that's what you did to Dad. Your affair did not affect me in the slightest.

You clueless arsehole.

[l1ttlef0x]

I leave my 'home' once again. I fear I will never find a HOME. The real thing that cures depression. And all the other things that are wrong with me. Or perhaps it will cure nothing. But I will try again anyway.

[l1ttlef0x]

'I didn't ask the thoughts to come,-

They came when I wasn't looking.'

- How it feels to float, Helena Fox