#melanchronic

[hazeldrift]

[vagueconfusion]

I can't tell unless you wanna know I won't ask unless you wanna show me Don't draw back unless you wanna crack Don't come near unless you wanna hold me

(...)

I can't tell unless you wanna know I won't ask unless you wanna-- Please draw back, I wanna take a step Pull my strings, cut my skin

(...)

I can't tell unless you wanna know I won't ask unless you wanna show me Please draw back, I wanna take a step Pull my strings, I need to feel something

[ismoyojessy]

Live Up to Dust

“I was counting every raindrops. I was believe that everything was futile enough to be ceased. I sat down at the bedside. I could hear voices in my head, as usual, it came again. It was echoing all the words I did not want to hear, then I cried. I cried because I knew that I was not supposed to cry, but forcing myself otherwise just made my tears fell even worse. I was tired of everything. I was tired of feeling guilty. I was feeling guilty that I might have hurt others with my words and actions. I was tired of being afraid. I was afraid not being good enough. I was tired of thinking. I was thinking that I was weak then I chose to be strong. I picked my choice and buried myself without one inch of bad-faith, like everyone else did to soothe their ego. I took my responsibility to do so until that people could see and think that it was always easy to be happy. Happy was easy, I repeated it thousand times. Enough to make myself believe the pain was not real. Truth be told, it was never easy to me. Never. Every single minute, my mind became a struggle. I could not handle it. Of all beautiful things you gave me, love it was, they said, you made me feel like I was worth less than I should be. I had been questioning myself whether it was love or not. Was it love, darling? Was it love? Or was it just a dust?”

(I read it on the notes between Gabriel García Márquez’s 100 Years of Solitude that I found in the library. I took it then today I read it again by chance. It was tucked between the pages of Paulo Coelho’s Brida).

[autumncode]