Currently avoiding life

Lotte | Queer Aro Ace | TERFS and REGs fuck off | Pro recovery | My Blog: currentlyavoidinglife.blogspot.com

[parallace]

The idea that romance is fundamental, that love is what makes us human and that finding that one partner to marry and have kids with is "the ultimate human goal" has been rooted in our society to the point where we don't question how faulty that mindset actually is.

Boys and girls can not talk to each other without people assuming they are dating. You can not be "too" close to your friends without people claiming you are in love with each other. We ditch our friends for lovers, we date desperately because we are afraid to be alone, we have to get married and have kids as soon as possible, we change ourselves to be the most desirable, we see celibacy as a failure and dating as better than any friendship or family relation, we let people intrude our privacy for relationship drama and gossip, we fight one another over love interests, we let people mistreat us “in the name of love”, we get fed romance and the idea of a 'happy ending' none stop.

And as soon as someone dares to break out of that scheme, they are wrong. I say I'm not interested in anyone, I get talked over. I say I don't want to date, I get dehumanized. I say I don't want to get married, I get told to just wait for the 'right one'. I say I don't need romance to be happy, they tell me I'm clueless. I say I don't want kids, I get told I'll change eventually. I tell them I'm old enough to know myself better then they ever will, I get ignored.

Whatever I say, I'm somehow not the right person to talk about my feeling, my wants, my needs or decisions. Somehow they know better what I want. They push me into corners I do not want to be in for the sake of being like them, when I do not want that at all, and I could never be.

[parallace]

Self-Love will grow,‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍To tender your heart.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Hope can overflow,‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Its missing parts.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Wounds that bled,‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Will cease to exist.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Hard times ahead,‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Show you persist.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍So don’t you surrender,‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍To the dark silhouette.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍When you fall and nearly scatter,‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍You can rebuilt yourself instead.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

[parallace]

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Let down the knife.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Let go the pain.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍A change of life,‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Awaits in vain.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Your broken pieces,‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Won’t shatter more.‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Cuts and creases,‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍Will restore.

[parallace]

I think a part of me died when I was a kid, And that empty part of me grew bitter with every year. I was angry at the world but destroyed myself instead. And now that I get older, I have to put all those broken pieces back together.

[parallace]

Why does it still feel, Like a part is missing inside of me? Something I lost somewhere, In my recovery.

[parallace]

When I post a selfie on insta:

My two friends:

When I add aro / ace hashtags:

A-specs and queers :

💜💜💜💜💜

[parallace]

‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍‍The Ace Audio Archive published my poem today, so I wanted to share it on here too. You can check the audio version here (and a transcript of all their audios here).

__

A different color:

Let the roses glow, I don't wish to take their spotlight, When they deserve to shine. I will watch them from the side, As they rise towards the sky.

Let the youth chase this feeling, Let them pick the taste they like. I will be delighted by the glimpse in their eyes, As they all come back, With the love of their life, Or the fling of a night.

Let them be happy and so will I, Without the flame of desire, Or the spring of that color. I can enjoy the smiles of my friends, With their love in their hands. The warms of their company makes me feel okay.

Let boys love boys and girls love girls. Let them love them all. And I will be me, Falling in love, With nobody.

Don't you worry, I'm not lonely. I'm not shattered or incomplete, Without the desire for one's body, Or the ability to love someone dearly, When I have a world full of possibilities all on my own.

I'm aware love is messy, And for sure it's complicated. But no type of love is better than the later, No color should be washed away, As red is not brighter than purple or green, Or any pigment in between.

The Greeks had seven, All different in their own way. Some people have them all, Some only four. Some loves will never see the day of light, Some stay forever in someone's life. Some people love too hard, And along the way some fall apart.

But if you only remember one, You may lose sight for other things that matter. Family, friends or yourself will be forgotten, All for the sake of finding that one shade, That may not always be obtained.

Some like me, Just don't blossom into roses, But rather trees, And I love every of my branches, Like they should love their thorns.

But as my leaves don't shine red, People tell me I was never meant to be like that. How dare you assume I should have been like you, How blind of you to think only flowers bloom.

I'm not without a heart, I'm not too young, nor cold as stone, Just different are my needs and wants, And none are wrong.

Ask me about love, And I could write you a book, One full of colors and feelings, And the stains they left on me. One full of people and sceneries, And the endless amount of memories.

But no, I can not love - Not you, not him or her, At least not like they ask me to. All I can is love someone in my own way. I may not be falling, But that doesn't mean I do not care.

I don't want no lover, Nor a date, As I'm already blessed, With every fiber of my being. Like every rose or tree before me, I too first bloom for my own joy. And I don't need someone else, To show me how to love myself.

So don't tell me I am confused, Or insecure, When I'm enough for myself.

Don't tell me I'm broken, Or missing out, When I'm already whole.

Don't tell me I can not be me, When I exist already, With pride and grace, As an aroace. __

[parallace]

Mood: queer aro ace with a bitch face.

[parallace]

Everything is just broken inside of me, and I can't seem to put the pieces back together.

Nothing can clean what's shattered, and nothing can heal the wounds I got from trying to.

[parallace]

I'm twenty and I still cry, Every night from the pain, And I can't even tell why, But it won't leave again.

I'm twenty and I'm still afraid, Of the whole world, like a kid, Hiding from shadows the night made, To look like monsters did.

[parallace]

Even if I strangely find my way into a potential friendship, I automatically destroy it before it can bloom. Every time, I fuck it up, and more often I find myself doing it on purpose: I crave having friends yet I'm unable to let anyone become one.

And why? Because that's the way my pathetic brain works: I avoid everything no matter if it's good, and no matter if it hurts more than bad things ever could.

[parallace]

And every night, I collapse under the weight of the world that feels so heavy that my feet can't hold it any longer.

[parallace]

Honestly, I would have already been dead, Had the 12-year-old girl not hesitated. I still look back on that day and regret, Why didn't I take the chance.. and left?

[parallace]

The demon tells me it’s because of my appearance, It's all my behavior that keeps people at distance.

It's the way I look: too ugly and too rough. Hating the mirror more with every glimpse I take. It's the way I talk; too much or not enough. Convinced they will hate me if I make a mistake.

It's the way I laugh: too loud and too forward. So insecure and afraid that I could be annoying. It's the way I dress: too unflattering or awkward. Feeling uncomfortable in every piece of clothing.

No matter what I do, It's wrong and stupid too.

[parallace]

Not to be dramatic or anything, but my dog is litterally the only reason I haven't killed myself.

[parallace]

Wanting to die is a feeling you don't easily forget again.

[parallace]

I warte auf jemanden der mir sagt wohin ich gehen soll.

Doch da ist niemand - niemand der mir sagt wie weit ich noch gehen muss und niemand der mir sagt wo das Ziel ist.

Also laufe ich hilflos durch die Gegend.

Komplett orientierungslos und allein.

Und ich bin schon so lange unterwegs dass ich meine Beine anflehe endlich aufzugeben.

(Ich will nicht mehr weiter geh'n.)