Trial cheese

Here’s my chaos. Have fun.

[trialcheese]

Indecisiveness

I find myself, every night, stuck in the same predicament.

Stuck at a crossroads, impossible to discern the right path - the true path for me.

The world continues and revolves while my fear holds me back - a handicap I wish I could ignore.

I want to be spectacular. I value validation above everything else. Why can’t I find it anymore?

[trialcheese]

Imaginary Memories

I sometimes reminisce on events that never actually occurred - usually times of success - despite my meager accomplishments

The fake memories make it hard to separate reality from fiction, longing from truth, mediocrity from the excellent

My world sinks after each high as the crushing lows become deeper and darker, as my memories grow more extravagant reality steadily becomes bleaker until all that remains is a slump so low I can hardly discern anything.

I learned to rely on meaningless escapes, empty pleasures, simple gratification, to avoid these slumps bu the depression is inevitable and the more I run the emptier I feel.

From a young age we are taught to dream big, to reach for the unimaginable, to carve our own existence into the unforgettable. But no one ever reveals the danger this holds. When the dream is too big or the person not enough

Why wasn’t I enough?

[trialcheese]

Opaque Skies

I can’t sleep.

Tossing and turning the blankets become a jumbled mess. I sit up, my mind alert, eyes searching for mindless stimulation.

A wall of windows greet me, yellow street lights pour into the empty room around my pallet.

A desolate neighborhood lies beyond the windows, my mind relaxes at the clam tranquility the late hours provide. Why can’t it always be this quiet?

Suddenly, I want the scene before me to last forever. I feel like the last person left in the world and the though doesn’t scare me

I welcome the darkness with open arms and a clear mind wondering - will I finally be free?

[trialcheese]

Trials

Flashing screens, loud voices, bleary eyes

I can’t keep up

Assignments pile up, deadlines start passing, my attention looks elsewhere

I don’t care anymore, why can’t I focus

My mind blanks when I force myself to focus, it screams in protest when I attempt to figure myself out

I’m changing

[trialcheese]

Are you happy? I’m not.

Reminders of my inadequacy haunt me constantly.

People still mentioned you to me, looking for a reaction I refuse to give.

I wish you understood how happy I am for you.

I know I failed you, and that lies my only regret.

Because, through all the pain and suffering, I was able to meet you.

[trialcheese]

I had to do it. I am so tired. It was inevitable.

Right now, as I reflect on the words I shared, the thoughts I exposed, the agony and anxiety I flung out in the open, I wonder if it will all be worth it.

Dear god, I hope so.

[trialcheese]

I’ve never been good enough for them. I see it in their eyes, constantly.

The way they neglect me, pass their gaze over me like I’m an extension of the wall. I’m nothing to them.

However, I’m not as emotionless as them. Where they gloat, I cry. Where they forget I silently sob. Where they despise , I desperately try to wipe away the tears that manage to escape my unwilling eyes.

I’m tired of it. Why can’t they let me go?

[trialcheese]

Rage

What good is rage if you cannot show it? What good is anger if you cannot act out on it?

Instead you must keep it inside, smothered, suffocated, dying.

Rage is the basest of all emotions. You don’t think about it, you don’t work your way up to it.

It consumes you, it eats you up and takes everything from you until all you can see is red and you feel the uncontrollable urge to yell at anything and everything until your head beings throbbing and you can’t breathe.

It’s not meant to be suffocated. To be locked up and thrown away. You cannot hide rage.

[trialcheese]

Love is a fickle little fucker.

The world his boundless playground and we are toys available for his amusement and disposal.

Do you truly love me?

Or is that feeling simply desire?

At this point love seems like to me a elusive fantasy,

A fallacy humans foolishly entertain yet never quite fully attain.

So tell me why seeing him with her affects me still after all this time?

[trialcheese]

Suffocating

I can’t breathe. I feel trapped within the confines of my mind. How can anyone live like this?

I don’t fear death, but a cage where defiance is impossible. Where free thinking is forbidden. Where my ideas remain just dreams and my actions are not true reflections of the storm and fire raging within my soul.

But being forsaken for so long has its toll. I fear now the cage in my head. The fear of vengeance in my mind crippling my hard earned and long fought freedom.

Dear god, this fear is consuming me.

[borrowedair]

i remember crying about you. i remember sliding down my wall and slamming my head against the goddamn wall, trying to figure out where it all went wrong, why you were pretending you didn't know me. i remember the angry stage. i fucked him and made sure everyone knew, including you. i hurt you, i knew it. i thought i didn't care anymore, i had managed to put your clothes in my closet and i didn't listen to our songs. i thought i had moved on. then someone texted me about you and her, asked me if i thought you would hurt her. i knew you fucking would, but i defended you. i have always had your back, and i think i always will. i saw you tonight after a long six months, and you still smell like sandalwood, vanilla, and home. we had so many close calls, eye contact kept for too long or spiked breaths when you got too close. i felt like i did that first date in the movie theater last year. when you invited me over tonight i promised i wouldn't let this happen but suddenly we were in your basement suddenly your hands were in my hair suddenly the bed was under me, and i let you. i didn't realize i loved you until tonight and i feel sick. you pulled back and i could feel the tears on your face because you know this shouldn't be happening. i asked you where it all went wrong, why we didn't work. i could've made you fucking happy, i could've protected you, i could've kept you safe. but you shut me out because boys like you don't want to be held, boys like you want the cold. im in an uber right now, choking it all back and pretending i didn't see you smile at me in the dark. i felt the goodbye in our last kiss and i felt the longing in our last hug. you stayed silent when i said i'd see you again sometime. i know this is the end but if for some goddamn reason you come across this, i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i want you to be happy and i guess i have to accept that won't ever be with me again. it was just for a night. i won't tell anyone, i promise. i don't regret you, just maybe 2 am wasn't the time to try again.

does she know what we do in the dark?

[icedcoffeeandmurder]

i love contrast, things that don't inherently go together. reading your ancient greek text book while listening to mac miller. light touches and deep stares. a long black blazer and white converse. shouting in dead languages while at a rave. the fucking dichotomy

[dreaming-of-artistic]

To lie would be pointless. Knowledge for the sake of knowledge is beautiful, so attractive and desirable. Unmistakably, that is wanted on its own. However, there’s a certain thrill, a certain rush, from knowing that you are the most intelligent person in a room (or at the very least having everyone think you are). The power is just as desirable as the isolated hunger for knowledge is. Manipulation is desirable; knowing exactly what game you are playing and how to play it the best. Having the upper hand is desirable; being one step ahead of others, always. But how to achieve it. How to maintain it. To keep it permanently in place. That is the question. Awareness. Opportunistic. Ruthlessness.

[uvisaa]

john keats is a chaotic romantic on the poetry scale

[x-carpe-o-noctem-x]

read classic poetry in the bath.  scratch shakespeare quotes into your desk.  keep black-and-white pictures in a golden locket.  learn the language you’ve always wanted to learn.  dance in the rain, even if you’re not sure how.  read wikipedia pages on unsolved mysteries at two in the morning.  live your life the way you want to, make your own rules, become who you’ve dreamed of being.  because really, who’s stopping you?

[ambxtxo]

Hypothetical dark academia novel in which instead of the crazed obsession being death, it is birth. Imagine a group of teenage girls drunk on the power they have to create life. They consider themselves gods. They drink wine, have bacchanals, and eat fruit in mossy caves on Sunday mornings. They gather every day before school to review the latest scientific discoveries over orange-peel tea. They write plays and raise their voices in excitement over new plot devices and marvel at the endless possibilities they have. The girls are avid feminists; they write essays and speeches about femininity and gender roles. They romanticize Renaissance women. They show up to school in all black, dress shirts rolled up to the elbow, hair in elaborate braids. Imagine the romances, the scheming, the poetry, the art, the speeches, the projects, the philosophical ramblings, the wide-eyed wonder and subsequent ambition.

[lummoss-deactivated20191024]

Who wants to make a secret society of the arts with me? Who wants to wear old tweed blazers, blouses, dress pants, black stockings and oxfords with me? We can meet in the same tiny cafe or in a hidden bar. We can paint, compose music, write poetry, stories, read to each other, learn and teach each other languages, new and old, existing and made up. We can critique each other’s work over a coffee or glass of red wine. We can discuss ancient and modern history, artists, writers, old and new composers. We can read newspapers, write journals, learn about what is happening in the world. We can be the silent, academic rebels of society. We can make history. Both boys and girls, we can be a brotherhood. An Alliance. We can change the world.