Es ist so laut in meinem Kopf
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@leivfoel
Es ist so laut in meinem Kopf
Nein
Nein. Nein, ich möchte das nicht. Nein, lass das. Nein, nimm deine Hand weg. Nein. Nein. Nein.
Doch, du hörtest nicht auf mich. Deine Hand auf meiner Taille. Deine Hand auf meinem Oberschenkel. Nein!
Ignoriertest meine Worte. Deine Hand unter meinem Shirt. Deine Hand zwischen meinen Beinen. Dein gieriger Blick. Nein!
Es war dir egal. Ich war dir egal. Deine Lippen auf meinen. Deine Hand in meinem Nacken. Deine Zunge - kraftvoll, in meinem Mund. Nein!
Doch deine Lippen erstickt meine Worte. Deine Hand in meinem Nacken verhinderte jede Bewegung. Deine Finger in meiner Hose. Dann nichts mehr. Leere.
Hasste mich dafür als mir ein Stöhnen bei deiner Berührung entwich. Hure, Schlampe, Bitch! Von jedem gefickt, von jedem benutzt. Nicht mehr wert als das. Niemals mehr wert. Nein.
Isn’t life just the mere reflection of everything that is? A space where all sensations appear and vanish. I think life is mostly visible in the morning hours. When darkness turns into daylight. When reflections are disappearing. Those long reflections of light in the water. But where does a ray of light begin and where does it end? Maybe it’s just all at once? Beginning and ending in itself. When day comes, these reflections won’t be visible. But they are still there. Appearing in the consciousness of those who look deeply into the source of life. So, isn’t life simply the most beautiful thing you can experience?
Forgive me
Mom! You asked me how I am and I always said I’m good, But now I know I should, Have told you about my fears, And all the tears, That I wasn’t able to cry, that I wasn’t able to feel, Mom, now I just want to heal!
I feel this pressure, this hate, this pain, Living a life like that - insane. To say that I’m alive is a lie, And I don’t know what else to try. There’s this pain inside my breast, my heart, my fear, my anxiety inside my chest. Mom, don’t you see that I’m in pain? I am the rain. And you’re the sun. Like always. A harbor so safe, But all that’s left is a deep dark grave, A grave - inside my head, my chest, a hole, Reaching deep inside and poisoning my soul.
My life is a consistent fog. And the fog is dark, So dark that I cannot rest, nor park, I’m a restless wanderer with anxiety and grief, Mom, tell me! Where is the relief? Where shall I go? Where shall I hide? I need to believe. But don’t you see, What’s fighting there inside of me?
You know, Mom. I fell inside that hole. Many years ago. It hurts. So please, just let me go, I can’t resist this compulsive thought, You know, I’ve tried, I fought. I cried. But I know that might, Have never been enough. I’m tough. That’s what people say, But I’m walking inside wet clay. So gray that it may stay - forever. And I will never - be enough.
Mom! You asked me how I am and I always said I’m good, But now I know I should, Have told you about my fears, And all the tears, That I wasn’t able to cry, that I wasn’t able to feel, Mom, now I just want to heal!
I cannot sleep during the night, Cannot say what’s wrong or right And I might, just fight, And maybe that will be okay, But there’s just shades of black and gray. Where is the harbor? Where could I rest? Mom! I’m dying from the pressure in my chest. I cannot breathe, my head, my voice, I guess I’ve never had a choice. Or maybe, maybe I had and I went wrong. It has been so long, Since I last saw the sun, felt a little bit of fun. Mom! I’m always on the run. I can’t! I need to rest, I want to go, Please, forgive me, that I never let you know, About those nightmares in my head, Forcing me to stay in bed. But you know what? My favorite color has always been red. Like blood, like war, like battle, like death, It’s just a matter of time, Until anxiety is taking my last breath.
Mom? You remember when you asked me how I am, I always said I’m good, But now I know I should, Have told you about my fears, And all the tears, That I wasn’t able to cry, that I wasn’t able to feel, Mom? Please, I just want to heal.
I always wanted to be like the others, Or my brothers. Who got support and love, and trust, While I thought that I must, Rock this world, be independent and brave Maybe that’s the moment where I fell in that grave. The grave - inside my head, my chest, a hole. Reaching deep insight, and poisoning my soul.
I felt different and wrong, Since I never came along - with others. And so never belong - to the gangs or groups in school. Which made me feel like a damn fool. I feel different and wrong, Not like them, not like me, not like anyone. I lost myself, my faith, my soul, Spent too much time inside that hole.
So Mom, if you will ask me how I am or how I feel, Maybe one day I have the strength to reveal, That my life is a consistent lie, And I’m longing for the moment to die. This pain is killing me inside, And every part of me that died, Took a part of my soul, my inner child, That was once so happy and smiled - Long ago. Please, forgive me, that I never let you know.
I know you’re there and you’re the harbor that brought me through, And you know I love you. But love cannot repair my soul, That has been too long in this damn hole.
Mom? Please forgive me that I started to lie, But I can’t handle this pain. I love you, Goodbye.
Ich könnte einen Sturm in mir haben und ihr würdet mich nicht einmal wanken sehen.
Ich kann gerade nicht in geringster Weise beschreiben wie ich mich fühle. Ich kann auch nicht mehr beschreiben, was ich fühle. Es fühlt sich an als wäre da nichts und trotzdem so viel.
Ich fühle einfach nichts mehr nur so eine Schwere und kann nicht mehr benennen, wie es mir geht. Da ist ein großes Loch in mir, in dem ich mich immer mehr verliere. Nichts hat mehr eine Bedeutung. Ich nehme mich selbst nicht mehr richtig wahr. Ich fühle mich nicht mehr existent und so unbeteiligt, als wäre ich kein Teil des Lebens mehr.
- irgendwo gelesen
"Fühl mich so allein mit diesen Gedanken, obwohl so viele Menschen da sind."
“One of the risks of being quiet is that the other people can fill your silence with their own interpretation: You’re bored. You’re depressed. You’re shy. You’re stuck up. You’re judgmental. When others can’t read us, they write their own story — not always one we choose or that’s true to who we are.”
— Sophia Dembling
Es ist kein "Ich will oder möchte" sondern eher ein "Warum eigentlich nicht?!"
when i say “i’m just chilling” i’m most likely suffering
Keiner bleibt bei mir.
I hate myself for every decision I've made
“I’m so tired of being broken.”
—
"Habt ihr mal von second suicide gehört? Das ist wenn ihr sterben wollt, aber zu viel Angst davor habt es zu tun. Und so hofft ihr dass euch etwas anderes tödet. Wie ein Autounfall oder eine tötliche Krankheit, damit ihr es nicht tun müsst. Wie auch immer, das ist wie ich fühle."
my-privatlife
Ich hasse mich. Ich hasse alles was ich tu und alles was ich bin.
“The way they leave tells you everything.”
— Rupi Kaur