Pythia Writhing @pythiawrithing - Tumblr Blog

nixscriptum

pythiawrithing

I'll always be your candle. 🖤

worksandmusings2

Bitter Nostalgia's Hand

I hold onto broken things.

They remain shattered in my hands.

They still have a use, I believe.

They must.

I hold onto broken things.

People ask me why?

I tell them of the memories they hold.

And I am told they have served their purpose.

That they are hurting me now.

I hold onto broken things.

They have been there for so long.

They were beautiful once.

A gentle hand grabs the items out of my hand.

Red is left in my hands. A parting gift. How sweet.

The broken things are gone.

Yet the cuts remain.

Whispers around me inform me that they will heal.

The scars will be the shadows of what I used to hold.

But no longer.

I used to hold onto broken things.

And sometimes I still do.

But I am learning to let go, so that my scars will heal and so that the red will clear.

pythiawrithing

Beautiful. Thank you for writing and sharing. ♥️

🖤🖤🖤

Like hope and gloom

The smell of hospice gardenia will always sicken me and heal me all at the same time.

quiteink

Sometimes I catch you mid-laugh

and it feels like déjà vu

without the sting.

The way you sprawl out on the floor,

unafraid to take up space.

The way your joy is loud

and unapologetic.

The way you assume

someone will come when you call.

That’s the part that gets me.

Because I remember learning early

how to fold myself smaller,

how to read the room

before I spoke,

how love felt like something

you could misplace.

And there you are

moving through the world

like it wants you here.

I don’t resent you for it.

But sometimes it knocks the air out of me.

Not because it hurts

but because it shows me

how simple it could have been.

I watch myself respond to you

without thinking twice.

I show up.

I listen.

I love you on your worst days

the same as your best ones.

No debate.

No hesitation.

And that’s when it hits me

If loving you is this natural,

then love was never supposed to be complicated.

You don’t heal me by trying.

You heal me by existing.

By letting me witness a childhood

that doesn’t carry the weight

mine did.

By reminding me, quietly,

that what I needed

was never impossible.

It was always just love

given freely.

A.C

pythiawrithing

Absolutely stunning. Thank you for writing and sharing. 🖤

nixscriptum

pythiawrithing

This is just fucking gorgeous.

literaryvein

L. V., excerpts from a past life

unscriptd-deactivated20260317

The Silent Voice Gerald Moira

"Thereto the silent voice replied; 'Self-blinded are you by your pride: Look up thro' night: the world is wide.'" -- Alfred Tennyson

idyllisk

“Do not unsheath me without reason. Do not wield me without valor.”

inscription on the sword of a Giovanni della Bande Nere statue on the facade of the Uffizi Gallery, Florence, Italy.

thesufferingjester

Take me somewhere thought can’t survive.

Somewhere logic collapses under its own weight

and finally shuts the fuck up.

I don’t want psychology’s hands on me—

picking through my ribs,

calling adaptation a disorder,

turning endurance into pathology.

Labels are a quiet kind of violence.

They don’t see you.

They inventory you.

Who are you to name me

after what I endured?

And who am I

to pretend I know you

by the shape of your scars?

It’s stupid—

how we worship the shadows people drag behind them

and ignore the light that kept them alive.

I’m not broken.

I’m not a case study.

I’m not your metaphor.

I’m tired of being explained away.

So take me somewhere coherence isn’t required.

Where I don’t have to justify my existence

in language that was never built for me.

Just somewhere

I can breathe.

pythiawrithing

This speaks to me as a humanistic psychotherapist. Even the system that I work in daily has such a history of violence through labeling and pathologizing things that are simply raw human experience that needs to be witnessed and felt in kind. I strive daily to use labels and diagnoses conservatively in my practice and not ignore the violence that has been perpetuated even in my own field, even by me when I was still learning. I am not a perfect therapist, but I always try to be a kind and gentle witness and an advocate and fierce warrior when appropriate. There is a time and place for all, and more than anything we can always return to our breath to show our nervous system safety when it feels like things are collapsing. It's okay to acknowledge that they are, and it is time to rebuild better. Been finding a lot of help in the works of Terence McKenna, Carl Jung, Irvin Yalom, Mr. Rogers, Aldous Huxley, George Orwell, Oscar Wilde, William Wordsworth, Ram Dass, Swami Sarvapriyananda, Thich Nhat Hanh...Sending out lots of love from human to human.

#therapy #therapist #humanistic psychology #poems and poetry #poetrycommunity #dark poetry #psychology #psychonauts

thecoolerwinter1234lo

this fanfiction shit easy af

maygodactuponmemercifully

I said I love you and you didn’t say it back, instead, you asked me what I meant.

I said that if God came down and told me I had to live a thousand lives, I’d ask Him if you could be in all of them, any way will do.

You looked at me as if I asked you to carry something impossibly heavy.

I said, no, you don’t understand, I love you.

I love that you exist, I love that God, in His incomprehensible vastness, made you.

You said I’m being romantic.

I said, no, you don’t understand, I’m deeply grateful that you’re happening, that you move through this existence with a voice and agency, that I got to experience you.

You asked me what I meant.

I meant thank you.

pythiawrithing

Beautiful. Thank you for sharing.