saije's

[saije-s]

Familiarity can be so gut-wrenching.

I used to come to the same place every week, a friend’s house, my second home. Now that I’ve left it, too far to even imagine myself visiting it— I’m afraid it won’t be the same when I come back. I might stand there with a crying heart if I do. Watching dragonflies flying over the overgrown plants, trying to see if someone’s still inside. I don’t want to come to a place I’m familiar with and see it lack the life it used to have. I don’t want to be familiar with the things I used to love, but how would I have loved it if I hadn’t known it? Familiarity makes my heart sink.

[saije-s]

they say something hurts your heart when you have love for it.

oh, then, how i love the things i’ve always yearned for

to happen

to become true

and not just a dream i think about every-time the moon shows up

not just a thought i found impossible to come to life.

love, how cruel can you be? for me not to feel love towards people

yet my love for the things i wish would happen,

is in the form of a sharp trident piercing my soul, my heart, and my lingering mind

all at the same time. how it hurts to love something,

love

i can’t begin to think how you both fulfill and break my century-old dreams.

[poetryofmanya]

Charlotte Green, 'You say you do not want a boyfriend, but you know that's not true.'

[saije-s]

“It’s never just about the fact that you didn’t buy me the drink you promised to get me and I cried like a child over it. It’s beyond that. I wish I could tell you, how parts of me were empty and I filled it all by myself. I thought that when I finally heard you say “Yes” to get me something, I wouldn’t be disappointed. Perhaps, I trusted your words too much that it made me never want to ask for anything again— after being handed yet another broken promise just right after the boost of joy your sugary words gave me.”

[saije-s]

every night i stare at the ceiling and realize i’m nearer to death than the feeling of being alive

and it’s a nonstop chain reaction where i remember every single memory, i can never seem to forget all the things that have ruined a part of me. i can never seem to forget what all the bad things did to me, and how i can never turn back time to change how i choose to view love.

if only i wasn’t too young, too naive, too…limited with words. maybe i would be free from this chain around my wrists.

[feral-ballad]

Bianca Stone, from What Is Otherwise Infinite: Poems; “Other Wound”

[resqectable]

“Be very, very careful what you put into your head, because you’ll never, ever get it out.”

— homas Cardinal Wolsey

[stay-close]

“That’s how you live: you cry, you ache, you hurt, you can’t breathe. That’s how you move forward, by feeling it all.”

— Kayil York

[saije-s]

i live, but it doesn’t mean that i feel alive

i’m quite impressed by how many years i’ve managed to keep myself intact

years that felt like forever to me

years that felt as if there’s nothing in the world

that i can hold on to anymore

but i’m breathing

and i like that i am

though i’ve been living with cuts from the string

that i’m holding onto

i’m trying to search for an answer for every sea of blood that i shed from the sharp, clean cuts ,

why does being alive hurt me?

i always try to find love; in pain, grief, sadness, and all things associated with the idea of falling into an endless slumber

i concluded that love cannot always be found in everything we feel, because love is the sense of being alive

and to tell me that my longing for death is love

,it’s just pathetic philosophy, making love roam around in places where it shouldn’t be.

[saije-s]

If luck isn’t real, then why does everything I choose become miserable?

if luck isn’t real, then why do i always tend to make things worse?

i always force myself to think i’m lucky, because i’m still alive. 

i thought being alive is something considered to be extreme luck, but i don’t see the point of being lucky 

living in such a hellish state every other minute.

i want to be content, but i don’t see anything around me to make me happy. 

what does contentment even mean if you haven’t felt real happiness in such a long time?

what would my affirmations do to my luck, to my contentment, if all of those means to be happy in the first place?

i try to be better, to make myself feel happier, because i’m told that i’m lucky, and that i should be that way

but does it really make a change to think about colorful patterns

when all i feel inside is a winter that never seems to end?

[saije-s]

if i had the ability to love, i would have already admitted to you how often you visit my mind and how often i try to ignore it, rethinking how i fail to treat love as a lifelong promise every-time it falls on the edge of my fingertips.

i wish i could express how much i have to give, but i can never find the meaning of entirely giving yourself to something that’ll take a pool of emotional turbulences, just to tell everyone you have learned to be gentle, all because you experienced fear while trying to love.

[saije-s]

Does life mean anything without belonging somewhere?

I don’t need to find my purpose whenever I’m with you; It’s both enchanting and lonely to only face it the time I face you.

[saije-s]

delusion disguised as acceptance

Some are made to embrace themselves, and some are made to love how they are made. It is unfair, but I don’t think anyone will ever get what life’s goal is— going around like that making everyone love and hate, all opposing sides. One for the group of their beautiful reality, and one for those who live in delusion in order for them to love themselves.

To accept is to force yourself to think you love who you are— where you tell yourself, “You are beautiful,” but pictures tell you otherwise.

I wish I was crying over nothing. I wish that when I cry wishing I was different, I hope I am actually what I’m trying to be like. I hope I am what I think I’m not.

I check in to see if I’m still me. I check in to see if I’m still the person I want to be. I hate not to notice my own changes first— that other people are ahead of me noticing how I’ve changed.

I severely hate to write all this, knowing I still can’t express what I so badly want to scream out until my lungs run dry.

[saije-s]

tall child

We’re born, each day growing as someone new and we don’t even notice.

We’re babies, searching for the presence of our guardians every second. We’re toddlers, refusing to go to school because we’ll be away from mom and dad.

We’re children, dreaming of growing up fast— then finally we’re teenagers wishing time had moved slower.

We’ve grown forward, and realized a lot of things since our first day here,

But going forward means leaving a trail behind you, right? We’ve grown taller, but to grow taller doesn’t mean we’ve lost all our childly desires—the feeling of home and the warmth of innocence.

[saije-s]

i never want to wish bad on someone, but is wishing for them to nurture your crumbled past because of them being aware how badly things have affected you since the days they started to teach you to look down on yourself; is that really wishing bad on someone? is longing for the love they never had the chance to show to me wishing bad on them? is it?