BUNNYYYY🐇

[prisonerofthemoon]

i lay bare skin stinging under water that won't forgive the mirror fogs hiding whatever i can't outlive

numbness slipping my fingers still i stay still i wait hoping it will rinse away something i can't name or state

i sink softly as the water turns red just washing out whatever's unsaid.

[prisonerofthemoon]

my mother is a gardener of small cruelties. she trims the edges of me until i stop bleeding, calls it pruning. i harvest my bruises at dusk purple fruit in the moonlight rose-pickered and fevered, i spill iron into the roots, and watch her garden bloom red where i bled.

[takkusbunny]

It’s 2 AM and I’m just staring at my call log, tracing their names on the glass. The late-night gaming, the stupid inside jokes—we built a whole world out of those moments. But a timestamp on a screen doesn't hug you back. The second the screen goes black and the silence floods the room, the warmth vanishes and the emptiness crushes my chest. Am I alone?

Maybe the hardest part is realizing that even when we do talk, something has shifted. You pour your heart out, but you can feel them filtering your words through their own interests, their own angles. They aren't just listening to hold you anymore; they’re keeping the parts that serve them. If you have to scream through their expectations just to be heard

And honestly, I am absolutely terrified. I’m packing up my entire life, preparing to go to a completely new place where I don’t know a single soul. To walk down a crowded street and realize that if I started crying, thousands of strangers would just walk right past me without knowing my name or the sound of my real laugh. It’s supposed to be a fresh start, but it feels like drowning in a sea of faces who don't care if I sink.

They keep calling it the next chapter. But staring at an unfamiliar horizon with absolutely no one waiting for me on the other side, the weight is too much.

I have a phone full of contacts, a lifetime of memories, and a new life ahead of me, so why does it feel like if I fell apart right now, no one would notice? Am I alone??

[takkusbunny]

If I had spent all my time chasing the blueprint of a perfect life, the clinical, flawless version we’re all taught to want, I would have completely missed the point. I would have missed out on true happiness, real friends, and the kind of memories that stay with you.

If I kept my hands clean and my schedule neat, I never would have tried sneaking out in the middle of the night just to feel the adrenaline of being alive. I never would have used a friend's name just to go meet up with someone. I wouldn't have spent hours roaming around the school hallways, looking for hidden places and quiet corners that felt like they belonged only to us.

And I definitely would have missed out on finding love.

A perfect life doesn't leave room for the beautiful chaos of getting to truly know people. It doesn't leave room for the nights where you stay up until dawn just talking to someone, or those endless hours spent watching movies together on call, or even just being on the line in complete silence, knowing someone is there on the other side.

Having someone to talk to like that, finding love at this stage in life, it isn't about everything being flawless. It's about the shared comfort of figuring it out together.

So maybe by standard definition, my life isn't pristine. It’s got sharp edges, weird stories, and a lot of unplanned detours. But in the end, the life I actually experienced was completely perfect to me.

[prisonerofthemoon]

i take a drag from you and, like a second hand smoker, i watch your life pass by through another's eyes. and sentenced to life i am by this tiny thrill of mine. i suck you in and breathe you out, the prettiest summary of you will only last as long as i am alive and through my mouth.

you may outlive and out remember me, but we will both die at the same time.

[takkusbunny]

the world is completely quiet except for the sound of your breathing. it’s that specific kind of dark where everything feels a little blurry, a little too soft around the edges.

you shift slightly, pulling the blanket up over your shoulder, entirely asleep and entirely unaware of how much space you take up in my chest.

and i just look at you, thinking about how you make even the ordinary days feel like poetry. how you pull me out of my own head without even trying.

i press a kiss to the crown of your head, so gentle I doubt you even feel it, and whisper it into the dark:

“i love you Sunshine.”

[prisonerofthemoon]

you hold me in your arms soft and safe, and i speak to you slow and scared.

please don't go away with the stolen summer air.

[prisonerofthemoon]

i think people underestimate how terrifying failure becomes when something has been your entire personality for years.

when you spend so long working toward one thing, your life starts arranging itself around it. morning routines, sleep, the way you imagine the future.

and then one day it ends in the form of a number on a screen.

the worst part isnt even failing. it's realizing life still continues afterwards. the sun still rises. people still ask to go to the movies. dishes still need washing. and somehow the world does not pause to acknowledge that something inside you has collapsed completely.

i used to think hard work guaranteed something. now i think it only guarantees that you will have more to grieve if things fall apart.

[prisonerofthemoon]

loving you felt easy, like my heart had already known yours since we met, even silence beside you felt full of something warm, and i remember thinking that if life always felt this safe and soft, i would never ask for anything else.

[prisonerofthemoon]

i like getting haircuts, mostly because i've never gotten over anything in my life. for thirty minutes i can sit in front of a mirror and convince myself that shedding pieces of myself means i am leaving things behind. the hair falls so easily. i wish memory did too. people say time heals everything but i think time just teaches you how to carry things better. i have spent years pretending i am over moments that still live inside me like bruises you only notice when pressed. i preach forgive and forget as if i know how. but somewhere inside me is a little wooden box with flowers carved into the lid and inside it are all the things i still remember despite myself. the worst part is that memories come back so randomly. hot air near my scalp at the salon and suddenly i remember exactly how a certain day felt in my chest. not the details. just the ache of it. maybe i am overdramatic. maybe i hold onto things longer than i should. but if forgetting was natural then why do dates stay forever? 24 oct & 15 dec new years eve 4:23 in the morning your birthday and, the day mine stopped feeling important.

[prisonerofthemoon]

i used to think there was something wrong with me for not having a person. like everyone got handed one at some point and i just missed the day they were giving 'best friends' out. i have people. at least i think i do. people who would respond if i texted. people who would show up if i asked. but asking is the thing isn't it? because a friend who only comes when "summoned" isn't really yours. you're just borrowing them. and i'm so tired of borrowing. maybe that's why i'm not that sad about leaving soon. because you can't lose what you truly never had. or maybe i will be sad. maybe college will be different. maybe the rain will swallow the people i thought i had and i'll stop pretending i was on the top of their list.

[takkusbunny]

Maybe we don’t need to go anywhere. We could just sit here and let the clock run, talking about the same things we did yesterday until the words feel like an old song we both know.

I like the way the day feels when it’s predictable... the same coffee, the same walk, the same way you look when you're thinking.

There’s no rush to get to the end of the book when the current page is this good. If tomorrow looks exactly like this, I think I’d finally be satisfied. Why look for something new when I’m still not tired of this?

Maybe we don’t need to go anywhere.

[prisonerofthemoon]

a pattern of deep cleaning my room, taking the trash and impurity from under my bed, and promising myself i will never let it get this bad again.

but i get messy again i leave clothes on the ground, forget to feed my fish and let dust collect on his bowl.

i sit on clothes and practice things i might say to you at 2am a few months from now, and think about the memories we could've formed if it wasn't for me.

i recite old memories like verbatim and write words on scraps of my old physics notebook that i later discard.

[prisonerofthemoon]

i always wanted to save you so fucking bad from that place, from that little room in that little house that reeked of cigarettes and sadness so i brought you into my house into my room and i thought i'd scrubbed the scent out of your skin but my life started smelling like cigarettes and sadness too it wasn't your fault but, you'd been in that house so long you belonged to it.

[takkusbunny]

If the world ever asked me what “home” feels like, I’d probably just point at her and hope that explains everything. She has this way of turning even my worst days into something I can laugh about later, mostly because she’ll make fun of me first and then pull me in like nothing ever happened. It’s actually unfair how she manages to be that beautiful and still somehow funnier than me.

But it’s not just that. It’s the small things that stay with me. The random texts, the way she notices things no one else does, the way she understands me even when I don’t say a word. She’s a mix of chaos and calm, and somehow I just fit right into it.

I could honestly talk about her forever, but if I had to keep it simple, she’s my favorite person. The one who reminds me every single day why loving her feels so natural.

[takkusbunny]

I keep a small photo of us tucked away in a tiny pocket in my bag. Every time I miss you, I find myself reaching for it just to look back at that one moment.

In the picture, you are caught in the middle of talking about something, and I am just sitting there, completely still, staring at you. You can see it in my eyes how much I was actually listening, hanging on to every word you said.

Whenever things feel a bit too quiet or you are not around, I pull it out. Looking at it makes me feel like I can almost hear your voice again, and it reminds me exactly how it feels to just be there with you. It is only a small piece of paper, but it is the best way I have to keep you close.

[prisonerofthemoon]

i’m so used to people leaving that i started leaving first. i abandoned people in my mind long before my body follows, just to get ahead of it, just so i can say i saw it coming, just so for once in my life I’m not the one who got left behind.

i don’t fear abandonment. I fear the moments before it—when they stop asking how my day was, when I can feel them pulling away, so i have to pretend i don’t notice when i’m still holding on. but i can see it in their eyes that they’ve already let go.

my whole life, i’ve seen more backs turned on me than eyes looked at me.