Love, Meli.

“I meet you where the spirit meets the bones." (Ivy, Taylor Swift)

[petrichorletters]

And who am I?

At this point, it's been a while since I started this blog, many years— isn't my first Tumblr though, but I needed a new beginning, and I realized that I never really introduced myself. Hi! Nice to meet you... (* >ω<)

And I am:

• English isn't my first language;

• '03 baby, and I've been on Tumblr since I was 14;

• Latin and Literature student;

• Sapphic and Genderqueer (any pronouns);

• Neurodivergent;

☆ Sidetumblr: @vampirellax

And I also write fanfictions and little entries on my journals, I love cats and my OC's and I dream with living in a pretty cottage like the Victorian houses I imagine in my books! Hope you feel comfortable here (*^▽^)/★*☆♪

[metamorphesque]

Letters to Milena, Franz Kafka (translated by Philip Boehm)

[metamorphesque]

Salomé, Oscar Wilde

[petrichorletters]

He said he wanted me to be his goddess, but in my blind faith, I stepped out of his shrine to love him like a mortal loves. I said I'm no goddess, I was honest about my flaws — I'm far from being perfect, I'm far from being immaculate. I showed my scars and wounds to prove that I'm far from deserving devotion, but still, he kept me on the altar. He prayed to me, and he offered the most pretty words. One day, I fell from grace like an Icarus who never seeked the warmth of the Sun but still got offered wings. I fell because I'm human, and he abandoned me in my despair. He loved a goddess, but in his delusion, he ignored that I'm not divine. He wanted an image, a statue, but my flesh wouldn't stop aging, and my heart couldn't stop beating for his sacred adoration.

[petrichorletters]

Again, my birthday. I betrayed myself one last time, claiming it's going to be last birthday that I'll cry until my head aches from missing you. Another birthday without my friend, another birthday where I still lack the piece of my soul you took with you. I still think of you, no matter how many times I buried the fading memories I have of how much you made me feel... myself. When I blow the candles I will wish for you to come back and be my friend again.

[petrichorletters]

A bruxa da Casa do Sol

No reflexo do espelho te vejo

De olhos grandes e cabelos dourados em nada contigo pareço

E a escuridão dos meus cabelos pretos e olhos castanhos engole a luz do reflexo de sua pele

Queria que você soubesse

Como eu desejo você.

Da Bruxa da Casa do Sol carrego a lembrança

Nunca te conheci

Nunca te vi

Nunca te toquei

Mas lembro bem daquela tarde, no fim de um inverno tropical

Onde meus lábios roçaram pelas tuas páginas e eu senti, Bruxa

Que se não temos a mesma alma, então ao menos tenho um coração que bate no mesmo compasso do teu.

As páginas me abraçam como as amantes que eu nego

O voto de castidade da minha carne se reflete na avidez em que consumo poesia

Grávida da literatura eu gozo palavras todos os dias

Não faço mais amor, mas ofereço meu corpo à magia.

Casei-me com a solidão

A ela dei o nome de Hilda.

[petrichorletters]

Today, I noticed how I share some things in common with my mom. And I don't mean how we have the same shade of brown eyes or how we frown our forehead the same when we think someone just said something stupid. No... today, I noticed that she is a girl like me, in the shell of a woman. I noticed how she's always cherished, but not included. I noticed how she's always happy for others but celebrates her victories on her own. I noticed she's pretty much like the sun in a never-ending cloudy day. This made me think of how she would probably be the type of girl I would be friends with in the kindergarten and how we would grow up sharing books and secrets, but fate is cruel and twisted, so it made me her daughter. It made me kick her inside her womb before I even gained consciousness. It made me make her bleed when she tried to feed me. It made me flesh of her own flesh. Made me the person who can't trust her, the person she loves but doesn't like. Mom, I hope in the next life I'm not your daughter, but the best friend you made in a Saturday afternoon while playing dolls in the playground.

[petrichorletters]

I read all the texts I wrote saying I would let you go. I would forget you. I would let time heal me.

Guess I didn't, I failed that... How can I promise to let you go when apparently you don't want to leave me? When I decided I want to forget you, you show up in my dreams, and tell me you're staying. One year ago I was afraid of forgetting, but now I'm afraid I won't.

So I decided to accept it. What else can I do except let you stay? I'm tired of fighting...

I started to smoke. You used to, the smell of nicotine is probably the closest smell I can have from you. I know you would hate it and would tell me to quit before I could get sick but you're not here to do it. Come back and tell me to.

Last night I even listened to Cigarettes Out The Window on repeat. "You'll find moonlit nights strangely empty because when you call my name through them there'll be no answer."

Do you know how this quote ends? It ends with "always your heart will be aching for me and your brain will give you the doubtful consolation that you did... a brave thing." But the sentence before is my favorite, when he says "you'll look into the faces of passers by hoping for something that will, for an instance, bring me back to you." I wish I could've told you that.

I wish I could tell you anything like I used to do when we were friends. I wish you're haunted by me as much as I am haunted by you.

I wish you did that to me because you wanted to hurt me. Not because you wanted to protect me, because since that day I'm far away of being safe... Come back, please.

[petrichorletters]

I try to dry my tears with the back of my hand — like a child does when they fall in the middle of the playground.

I wish my mom could pick me up, clean my wounds, and kiss it better. I wish it was a real wound, so I could find where the blood is coming from.

But I can't, not when what aches is a feeling, what hurts me is the bitter feeling of losing, is the pain of missing. Oh my God, I beg to the skies, I talk to saints and goddesses.

It hurts. Still hurts.

[petrichorletters]

Oh, Lord, oh, Lord

I cling onto 'Ya

Just to ask with the tears in my eyss

Why,

Why, Lord of mine

Does the cross I have to bear

Feel so heavy against my back?

Lord of mine,

I humbly kneel on the dirty.

I faithfully put my forehead on the ground.

I fearfully avoid Your eyes.

Just to ask you one more time

Please, please, Lord of mine

Have mercy on my mind

Does You really believe

That all the heavy pain I have to bear

Makes me better than any other man?

Please,

Please,

Please,

Let me have what I want.

I don't ask for much.

Just a heart without all this sorrow,

And a life where hope isn't a dream

But a promise for tomorrow.

[remindertoclick]

Here's your reminder to Click for Palestine today! 🕊

[sapphic-nature-witch]

Just in case anyone is wondering about my stance on Palestine. Even though my platform isn't particularly big, it's still important I say something.

I support the people of Palestine. What's happening there is horrific. Please seek out smarter and more well-spoken and organized people than myself to find resources because every time I try to organize myself here, I fumble, and the people of Palestine deserve the best representation right now.

[petrichorletters]

"Love isn't for people like me" I say with a smile on my face after drinking my beer. The glass produces a clink after hitting the table — my friends look at me like I'm crazy, assuring me that one day I will get married and have babies, the idea that I won't is absolutely insane. After all, how could someone so full of love end up without somebody to receive it? I don't know either. Maybe it's a curse or just past life karma... Maybe the problem is exactly that I'm so full of love that in the end nobody will be able to handle the amount of it that keep locked inside my heart, maybe I'm so full of love that all this love is becoming sadness. I said it's okay to be alone, there's so much to do in this world, it will be easy to fill up the empty seat at the other side of the table, right? I truly want to believe that, but I would like to know why can't never be me.

[petrichorletters]

I'm loyal like a dog — I'll wait you come back home by the front door, even though this house isn't a home anymore. I'll wait you come back because this house is the home I know, I'll wait you come back because that's what you do. I'm loyal like a dog, I have teeth by I won't bite, I'm starving but I won't bark.

[petrichorletters]

The day you left was the day I realized that I have this thing inside of me, like if I was cursed to kill every beautiful thing that appears on my path — my hands are covered with the blood of the things I loved the most, I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Now, I live like I was in front of a crystal clear lake, and I want to wash my tired body so badly, but I can't, because I'm toxic and washing away whatever lives within me means poisoning the water and everyone that navigate there. So I just stare at the lake, I see the time moving on, and the water flow as nature guides it. I'm not part of its course.

[petrichorletters]

To me, love is a religion. I can't give less than my most fiery devotion, I can't help but be on my knees when Cupid shots its arrow aiming on me. Let love consume me like a disease, let my heart beat like the angels when the Apocalypse is near... oh love, please, come back to me. I feel the metallic taste of hunger while I ache with the emptiness of a life without love haunting me. I will stay here, praying every day for you to fill me like a lustful kiss, love, that spreads your wings before wrapping me.

Happy Valentine's Day. ♡

[petrichorletters]

Today is my birthday. Every time I listen to the sound of my phone, I hold my breath, and the anxiety creeps up. The silence that lies between the "happy birthday" and the "thank you" is ankward, I hate that every year I have to go through this, and I never learn how to do it. Maybe it's because they are wishing me a happy birthday when all I want is to sleep and wake up only in the morning after. I don't like my birthday, and I feel guilty for it because I should like it, I should be glad that I can celebrate another year. Why does it make me feel so depressed, though?