nnnymsxctvty

Laila . 31 . Head all messed up. https://medium.com/@spiralpatterns

[nnnymsxctvty]

I Say It to You, You, You and You.

I’m tired.

[nnnymsxctvty]

I’m in constant pain. In pain all the fucking time.

And I still manage.

Don’t you think I’ll manage getting hurt by you?

Disappointed by you?

Even tortured.

Because I know I will.

And if I don’t, then I love you deep enough that it killed me.

What more can we want from life except this excruciating love—

the kind that leaves you wanting to be inside someone’s skin,

to feel them all around you.

What else can you want?

[nnnymsxctvty]

The minute I’m alone and the mask comes off, a rush of excruciating comfort comes rushing down all over my body—head to toes—but along with this comfort, there is a sadness that rises too fast, as if a volcano has erupted. A sadness that feels so familiar, deep, and feels breathtakingly beautiful that I will never, ever be able to shake.

The sadness that is truly me.

I’m nothing and no one without this beautiful sadness. It’s the only way I can live. It’s the only reason I’m alive. Without the sadness, I will not have any meaning. I will not know any sensations. I will not understand. I will not comprehend. I will not consider.

I will not be.

[soluksuret-deactivated20260516]

[nnnymsxctvty]

I decided I wanna be loved by you.

You will have fun doing that! You’ll feel more love than you can ever imagine. Just love me — love all of me. My mess, my absolute mess — love it, love it all until you drown in it. And while sinking, you’ll have me pull you out for air.

You’ll feel more love than you can ever imagine just by loving me. I’ll see you — really see you — see so far down and just hug your insides with my all.

[ageratoideses]

Two.

I want to be trapped in this late night eternal sorrow, because that's when I feel like I'm really myself. I truly feel human when I'm alone. My thoughts become manic, a feeling of amazing idea and tainted decision plagues me. I've always wanted love, but maybe I'm meant to be alone. I'm comforted by the loneliness of the night that surrounds me, a blindness that reassures me that I am alone, and my only pain is my own mind.

[nnnymsxctvty]

[weltenwellen]

“Where exactly do you put your hands on somebody who hurts everywhere?”

— Charles D’Ambrosio, The Dead Fish Museum: Stories

[weltenwellen]

Chelsea Dingman, Through a Small Ghost

[weltenwellen]

Natalie Díaz, from “Postcolonial Love Poem”, Postcolonial Love Poem

[nnnymsxctvty]

HURT.

What are you afraid of? I asked.

"Are you afraid you’re gonna hurt me?"

He responded, "Yes."

I said, "You’re not gonna. I won’t let you!"

"And if you end up hurting me, I can assure you I can get over it."

I said, staring at the ceiling, "I got over so much hurt in the past all alone. I can get over getting hurt by you!"

Not to mention, I love getting hurt. It makes me feel. It makes me feel whole!

LET ME IN.

[trees-waiting]

when they say “you’re hot” but kafka said “you’re the knife I turn inside myself” like do better

[nnnymsxctvty]

Consumed

It’s funny. We’re five years later, and the torment is still there. The only difference is that maybe—just maybe—now you know that you haven’t met anyone who deserves your love. You love so hard, and so beautifully, it’s fucking painful to watch from afar.

Who will love you like that in return? Is your lesson one of letting all this love fall towards your own self instead? Instead of fucking waiting for someone to do it on your behalf?

I know, I know—it’s way less lonely being acknowledged by someone than by your own self, even when it’s wrong, even when it’s not done right or is painful, the way you yourself show love for others. That will always be my curse: loving more than being loved, seeing more than having been seen, feeling every fucking little emotion everyone around you feels, without having anybody to feel it all for you or have them feel all the feels that consume you.

And that will keep consuming, till you disappear—just disappear.

[nnnymsxctvty]

Stuck in life

Don’t know how to stop.

Stuck between life or death. Stuck between love and hate. Stuck between staying or leaving. Stuck between unfurling or hiding. Stuck between letting go or letting in.

A long line that doesn’t end __________________, up or down should I go?

Stuck in life.

[nnnymsxctvty]

Falling in Love with Pain

Am I being punished, or am I being rewarded? Is it too blurred of a line to know, or is it just the price you pay for seeing too much?

Why is pain the only thing you seem to fall in love with? Why is it the only language you speak and comprehend?

Am I being punished or rewarded?

Is it ripping you apart, or is it making you whole? Is it too blurred of a line to know?

Will the love only grow stronger because it’s not your own pain? And who will love your pain?

Pain, pain, pain, pain...

I’m in love with your pain—please, love me for mine. Love my torment, love it all.

I’m being punished.

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Mary Kate Teske

[wheres-the-bear]

I'm convinced it is fear put into action.

[nnnymsxctvty]

The mess in my head goes round and round, round and round, round and round; the spin in head goes round and round, all day long!

[metamorphesque]

"The Brothers Karamazov", Fyodor Dostoevsky (translated by Constance Garnett)

[lightestgrey]

Permutation

So many monsters.

Shapes, forms, different.

Evil lives on a sliding scale.

Easier, to go into the dark, live there. 

Gratification through mutilation, of the mind.

Bones break, they heal.

The mind breaks. Permanently  Ill.

Permanently Ill.