scatteredabstract

[scatteredabstract]

Will i ever be okay? I bear the splintered remains of my own being, binding myself with the fragile thread of endurance.

[scatteredabstract]

George Bernard Shaw said, "When a thing is funny, search it carefully for a hidden truth."

[halfapoet]

Love is always left unfinished, I think. We were talking once, I was telling him about this story I really liked as a kid but I couldn't remember the name. He said it's okay, I can tell him when I remember. When I was on the phone with my mother last night, she asked if I remember the book I loved when I was young. And I did. I have the name now but I don't have him. That's just how it is, I think. You spend a few months together but you have to wave him goodbye at the airport. Or you're in each other's lives for years and because of one technicality, one glitch … you're not anymore. You're married, you do everything right, you have years and because we're human, one person dies first. Someone is gone and you're left with the name of the book but no one to say it to.

[scatteredabstract]

“You read like someone who’s lived a thousand lives and carries the ache of each.”

~scattered abstract

[scatteredabstract]

I know the feeling when my gaze is glued to white walls, As the room shrinks closer, the feeling of silence and shivering without cold. I've heard the pleads of dark while I'm crouched in the corner, dim light cascading the silhouettes that hear me cry. The breath of cigarette which burns my lungs yet eases my wounds, white before the red as I stare for it to bloom brighter. I've seen the shadows dance with my steps, and heard the music play as soon as its dawn, clear residue of my pain lingers under the sweats I wear in the sun for cold. I've seen the smile of void, staring back at me from the mirror, as I try to paint it's emptiness without the shades of terror.

[girl-on-films]

[scatteredabstract]

[aahanna]

Peak intimacy

[scatteredabstract]

[scatteredabstract]

[hereiswhatremains]

You hate yourself so loudly. You hate yourself at the top of your lungs. Your loathing for yourself permeates your speech. "Sorry I'm just rambling." "Don't worry about it." "Just ignore me." "Sorry if I'm annoying you." "Sorry I don't make sense." "Sorry about that."

Sorry, sorry, sorry. You act as if you have to beat everyone else to the punch. As if the punching bag is you. If you hate yourself first, if you hate yourself loudest, then nobody will hurt you. You clapped your hands over your ears and shut your eyes and balled yourself up so that you'd never have to experience people's loathing for you. And it meant you never heard their love. You drowned it out. You screamed your hatred over it. And you never got to hear it.

—Anonymous

[scatteredabstract]

[antleredheretic-deactivated2025]

What cure did you provide against that sickness?

[shakespearesdaughters]

[scatteredabstract]

“A mind steeped in literature, a heart lost in the rain.”

[scatteredabstract]

My family is not them,

It has me,

It needs me,

I complete my family but,

That,

It’s not mine.

It is complete without me,

And that’s why my family is mine,

It’s mine.

And it’s not them.

[mahoganyamore]

for once just don’t give up on me

[scatteredabstract]

There are days when sun seems too bright, the traffic is too loud and you just feel like what if all this just, disappeared?

What if I disappeared? Would that make a difference? No, right? And that’s when you fell down the steep of that ambiguous reality of, what if instead of the world, I disappeared and finally find that piece of me I lost along those streets of chatters and tracks of mist.