Oh Darling

I want to be the kind of person people write songs about.-38 years young-female -sensual-deviant-sweet-emotional-writer -reader-lover-listener-introverted-raw-real

[hevesmiibiraktiniz]

[pixublr]

[violetvodka]

"You can’t see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears"

[udrug]

[violetvodka]

For real. Send me music.

[violetvodka]

Yeah, I’ve got wounds.

Not the kind that heal cleanly, more like the kind that learn to disguise themselves as my personality.

I don’t remember where I end and the coping begins.

Just fragments of reaction.

Just patterns repeating in different rooms, different people, same ache. The same hunger.

Sometimes I think I was built from absence first…and everything else got added later just to make it look like I’m whole.

I’m an empty void and I attach to souls like his.

His beautifully, well put together soul.

[violetvodka]

There is something sacred about evenings like this. The kind where the world finally stops demanding things from you. Vinyl crackling in the background, tea growing cold because conversation matters more, your hand lazily brushing against mine as if it belongs there.

I think love sometimes looks less like fireworks and more like this, shared silence, tired smiles, and someone choosing to stay while the music plays on.

[violetvodka]

Yeah, I have daddy issues.

What now?

You gonna psychoanalyze me, or finally admit you want me too?

Ya I’ve got attachment wounds. You want me to name them all? This one’s called resentment and it’ll happen when I finally get a clue.

Sure. I have old patterns that show up when I least expect them to. You want me to trace these patterns on your flesh too?

I’m not pretending to be untouched anymore. I know who I am and what I am now.

I’ve learned how to smile at things that still echo through my chest at night.

And even after all these years I still don’t know what part of me is “me” yet. Or what part is just survival wearing my pretty face. I’ll figure it out one day.

In the meantime …

Go ahead. Love me daddy… I’m real good at playing pretend.

[violetvodka]

Want me with the kind of hunger that ruins your composure.

The kind that lingers in your chest long after I’m gone.

Want me harder than anything or anyone.

[violetvodka]

I have this sick, disgusting craving to be loved gently.

To be chosen without hesitation.

To be valued without having to earn it first.

Pathetic, isn’t it?

Wanting something so human it almost feels fictional.

[violetvodka]

All I want is a long day of silence and a short night of rest, nothing grand, only the luxury of being left alone with what I love.

[violetvodka]

My soul is on fire, like always

But life is a lot quieter now

And I have learned to love the calm

[violetvodka]

"I felt there was no point in telling anyone anything that was happening inside me."

[merwesstuff]

[tenephre]

[aperiodofsoftness]

Ronjanicola

[violetvodka]

[violetvodka]

• Maybe my biggest red flag is that when something hurts me, I don’t really talk about it. I just go quiet. I overthink everything. I start acting a little off. I pull away. Not because I don’t care, it’s because I care way too much and I don’t know how to say “hey, that hurt me” without sounding needy. So I slowly start detaching to protect myself. I check out emotionally before I actually leave. And one day you’ll say “you’ve changed”. But really I was just hurting for too long and didn’t know how to say it. •