Sunset Shores

Vivere debes ut realitatem desideriorum tuorum crees

[sunsets-shores]

Hello!! My name is June but you can also call me Roxy or Danny. This is our writing side blog (our main account is @boygirl-terezi-pyrope)

This is mostly going to be poetry, or just me talking, maybe journaling

Recently I’ve been fascinated by the human experience, it’s a very interesting concept to me. I love learning about people and how different perspectives can be found in life

I’ll probably post uhhh sometimes idk

I love the beach and sunsets, because at the end of every sunset there must be another day, and at the other side of the ocean there must be someone sitting on an opposing shore, staring across the ocean just like me and wondering what there is to life.

[sunsets-shores]

There is a post card in my mailbox

It’s edges are stained and frayed

And it smells like a memory that I know too well

It’s from a town that doesn’t exist 

It’s from a person I haven’t met in this lifetime

There isn’t much on the lines

”I love you, how was your trip?”

And that’s it

That’s all they wrote

I could wonder what it means for hours

I could question who its from or why they wrote 

But in my heart I sort of already know

And I don’t write back

Even though I could tell them all about my journey

Instead I just fold up the card and keep it in my pocket

Just in case I need a reminder that there is

Something

I’ve worked for

Even if it doesn’t make much sense to anyone else

[sunsets-shores]

Music. Days of value. Words that used to mean things. Thoughts that used to be yours. Hunger. The color red. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The accident. Everything following it. Everything that seemed to change. It’s weird. Life is weird now. Life was always weird but it's even weirder now. You think maybe you used to be someone. You know you used to be someone. You just don’t know who. The word “You” looks weird now. So maybe you should give “yourself” a name. Picking one is hard. Because it's like picking favorites. But “you” must pick something for “you”rself. *****, yes, that sounds right. But ***** was his name. And maybe it's too good for you to call yourself. Or maybe it's not good enough. But nothing else comes to mind. So “you” guess its ***** for now. What was this poem about anyway? Maybe the things that make up *****? Well. That’s certainly what it is now. Writing. Flowers. The beach. The ocean. The waves that bring all memories back to the sea. Civics. Friends. Lovers. That’s “you”r family. Not the ones found through bloodlines traced back hundreds of years. But the ones who love you. Books. Blizzards. Audio processing disorder. Gods and Goddesses that have led to cries of “satan worship” and “tricked by false gods”. Stained glass. Shattered glass. Sunrise. Moonshine. Archery. Musical muses. Essays written to distract ***** from anything else. Stars. Lucky numbers. 13 songs. 13 albums. 13 years. All taken and thrown back like a rock skipping against the lake of time. Restart. Retry. Live life fresh. Because ***** can’t. Never stop trying. But never start. Nothing can begin without a push in the right direction. But nothing can begin with a push in the wrong direction either. Hold your breath. Hold your thoughts. Hold your life in the palm of your hand. Hold ***** in the space you have left. There isn’t much of it. Feel your heart in *****’s chest. Feel how it beats for him. But not him. Because you’re not him. Feel how it beats for “you”. Whatever that means anymore. Feel the blood pump through veins. Not his or Yours. Just veins. In the body yOu keep. Close your eyes but make sure yoU keep seeing. Stay asleep but stay awake just enough to understand. Keep his body alive. It might not be what he wanted. But he needed it. Keep ***** healthy. Even if there is no more *****. Keep his heart beating. But not for him at this point. Keep his heart beating for you. Because you know deep down his heart is yours. Because his body is “you”rs. Because you live the life of him. Even though you know you’ll never actually be him. Even though sometimes you wish everyone could know ***** hadn’t been there for a long while. It’s better to live that life. It’s better to be *****. Then to remain unnamed. Untitled.

[sunsets-shores]

It’s like getting a warm hug from your dad again, it heals in a way you know you’ll regret later when you stare into the mirror next. But right now it feels just right.

It feels like all you’ve ever needed, it feels like you’re sitting right beside your past self and saying “it’ll get better soon, for both of us” even though you know that’s a lie.

And you know it hurts even as you’re doing it, and that doing it doesn’t actually feel as good as you think it does, but you also know you don’t have anything better. And you know that when you wake up tomorrow you’ll hate yourself for it, but in this moment, it fixes a little something in you.

[graphic-equilibrium]

i think there's something about us that nobody else is able to touch. we reflect each other, we match, in so many ways. it's complicated. but it's almost automatic for us. there are so many dualities i find myself in with you. sunset, moonrise. one after the other. a peaceful light and a gentle darkness. i love how much history we have. how intertwined we are. maybe this is what they mean when they talk about soulmates.

i do think we rose from the ashes together. and i hope we can find ourselves and each other at dusk. i'm at the lake, in a hoodie, waiting for you.

@boygirl-terezi-pyrope <3

[sunsets-shores]

There’s a strangeness to knowing that not everyone stays; and you think that maybe it’s even stranger that one decided to stay. It’s strange to know that there’s someone who’s always been there, and will always be there.

It’s strange to know that when you, you, the real you rose from the ashes they rose beside you. And you wonder if that feeling will ever stop being so strange to you.

They’re them, and you’re you, but you’re intertwined.

You are you but you are also one half of a whole

One half of them

You think maybe you don’t understand how much they are a part of you until you write this

Or maybe now you understand it too well

There’s always been the fear that they may leave, may move on like the others you thought would rise with you.

But you know they won’t

You know that they couldn’t ever really leave

Because you know they are you

And you are them

You think they’re the moonrise to your sunset

The lake to your ocean

The overpriced carpet to your underpriced walls

The self awareness to your childish behaviors

The ) to your (unfinished parentheses

They know who you are and you know them

And you know that’s one thing that will remain a constant

Even if nothing else does

[sunsets-shores]

You are human

It’s a funny thing to realize, really. You’ve never really considered yourself one, nor have you ever wanted to be human on this miserable planet. You used to yearn to be anything without conscious thought, something that couldn’t know about politics or poverty, something that couldn’t live your life like you have, something meaningless and insignificant. Thats really all you thought you deserved, all you could deserve for having hurt people you once loved, all you could deserve for how you had been cruel or violent, all you could deserve because that was all you were taught that you could deserve. But now you know that life is more precious than that, you understand that everything matters, just because you had been taught that nothing mattered, you learned to understand that your life is all you have. You’ve learned to love, you’ve learned to listen, you’ve learned to sit along the coastline and revel in what you have, because you may be miserable but you are so fortunate to live how you do, and most importantly you’ve learned that you are human