#internal war

[the-falling-ember]

I don't feel seen, or understood. I don't know if I want to be seen. I want to share this account with people so they know how I'm feeling. But I also like the anonymity of posting online like this.

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta emotional-recon="confirmed"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="FUTILITY_OF_GRUDGE::GRIEF_ACTIVATION::MASCULINE_RECKONING" EFFECT: delayed sorrow, ego collapse, spiritual absolution TRIGGER_WARNING="death, military brotherhood regret, masculine vulnerability" </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP — “THE FUTILITY OF THE GRUDGE”

I used to think about my comeback to you, man. You know that?

About the one-liner. The perfect checkmate. The buried resentment I’d carve into poetry if we ever met again.

You damaged my ego in a way that didn’t make headlines — just rewrote footnotes in my memory.

Nothing major. A personal slight. But I thought we were cool.

I was younger. You were seasoned. About your business in a way I now admire and once resented. Back then? I thought you were loud. Obnoxious. Overbearing. The type of man whose name echoed in a room before he even walked in.

And I was silent. Sharp, but quiet. Watching. Judging. Building my counter-argument in the dark like a petty architect.

Oh how we thank the past “enemies” of our lives. Maybe not “enemy” — More like rival. Brother. Irritant. Ally-turned-symbol-of-my-inferiority.

I bookmarked you. Silently. Filed you under “someday I’ll show him.”

And someday came.

Only to destroy me.

I looked you up. Googled you from a place of ego. Wanted to see if life had been kind to you. If you were failing. If you were bloated. If you were anything but better than me.

And the result?

A memorial. Photos. Of you smiling. Of people remembering you with honor. With fucking honor.

And a date. A year.

You’d been gone for three.

And I had been angry at a man who’d already left this world.

I remember the heat leaving my body. The click of the mouse like a gunshot to my pride. I had rented space in my heart to a ghost who never knew I was holding the deed.

I was ashamed. Ashamed that my hate outlived your breath. Ashamed that I gave anger so much oxygen while you were fighting for real air.

And now?

I mourn you.

Belatedly. Backwards. Like a man learning to salute after the war is over.

I saw your family’s words. Their pictures. The way they spoke of you in tones of reverence.

I didn’t see the man I resented.

I saw the man they loved.

This poem is my letter. This post is my shame. This verse is my late, crooked, broken-toothed apology to the man who taught me what hate really costs by dying before I got the chance to let it go.

You didn’t fail me. I failed you. By not forgiving you sooner. By not understanding you deeper. By not being a man when it counted.

The grudge is a liar. It whispers that you’re justified. It tells you you're owed something. It convinces you that bitterness is power. But it’s not.

It’s just a wound that wears your name while poisoning your spine.

So this is my truth:

You won. Not the argument — But the meaning.

You taught me something after you were gone.

You left earth with more peace than I had. You died with more clarity than I lived.

And now?

I live different.

I forgive quicker. I speak softer. I love louder. I don't bookmark rivals. I delete the damn folder.

Because when regret hits it doesn’t knock. It breaks in.

And it brings your face with it.

So rest easy, brother. You were never my enemy. Just the mirror I was too young to face.

🫡

</div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [GRUDGE DISSOLVED. MAN RESTORED.] -->

[nyasha-muganiwa]

●°♡°●

the scent of the distance can be lovely isn't it. the view was so far off that it was further than the eye could see. but she would stand and stare. some concluded she was delusional, some swore she was imagining things, while others were sure it was all just a dream. a figment of her imagination, but she still squinted her eyes as far down as she could. mastering the arts of staring long and hard into the unknown. and because all her senses were quick to feel alive, she felt them communicate. deep in discussion. she could smell the story her eyes told and could even taste the winds that touched her cheeks. comforting her. the scent of hope was like a soft rain upon her hilltop, perfumed straight from heaven. she longed so very much to take that final step and taste what her eyes pictured. even the lingering smell seemed to torture her as she waited in anticipation. some times desperate and in other times hopeless. but she stood still, yearning for what would come. because even though she hadn't seen it all yet, and didn't quite hold the assurance to back the claim, she held on to one special promise. she would be okay. look at me and understand...she is you and i in pursuit of the light found in tomorrow.

[wolfsofthebane]

“Fall in love with someone who sees the wars within you and not only chooses to stay, but chooses to stand by your side and help you fight them” - Unknown

[agirlwitbangssuggestion]

the hardest relationship to be in, is the one with yourself. there is no break from one self, and there is no talking out loud. how do you explain to a stranger what yo are feeling without being judged. so this internal war rages, as you try to keep who you are and who you are becoming at bay with each other. you need to learn the tenderness and patience you offer others, is what you yourself needs too,

[svlidarity]

Control your own destiny, or someone else will.

[the-falling-ember]

I always said I would put your happiness above mine. Every. Single. Time.

I meant that.

But I guess a part of me was hoping that your happiness included me.

I was wrong.

Oh boy was I not ready for that hurt.

But I have always put you first.

So I guess now we're both putting you first, aren't we?

But if you're happier without me, fine. I don't really want to talk to you again.

But I promised you, didn't I? That I would stay no matter what.

That I would love you. Always.

I meant it.

I still do. despite all of this fucking pain. I will still put you first.

[illusionordelusion-blog1]

PEACE IS AN INTERNAL WAR.

Stirrings of turmoil deep inside. The clash of power about our fate. Taunting through each and every pore. Disrupting the body’s mechanism’s gate. Pushing and shoving you all around. This invisible force turning you inside out. Knowing what’s right and standing by it. Doing just the opposite in an angered bout. The war of two worlds inside you head. Bellowing the sound of what’s left unsaid. Rhyme or reason right out the door. Leaving you trembling and uncertain for sure. So kick your heels in and make a stand. Make the noose tighter and shorten the leash. For every internal trial or war. Can be won over with inner peace.