S.A. McCarthy

Wrote you a thing, hope it makes sense. Poetry, prose, and emotional clutter. Thanks for stopping by. 🥀 https://wroteyouathing.art.blog 📸: @wroteyouathing

[wroteyouathing]

𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭

[wroteyouathing]

𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘹

[wroteyouathing]

𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴

[wroteyouathing]

𝘰𝘩, 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥

[wroteyouathing]

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥

[wroteyouathing]

𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦

[wroteyouathing]

Constellations of You

[wroteyouathing]

A Soft Place to Land

[wroteyouathing]

flowers instead of flames

[wroteyouathing]

A Mountain of a Woman

[wroteyouathing]

Decisions in a Dark Room

When you feel your dignity starting to slip,
your inner peace sinking,
like quicksand beneath your feet,
you may find yourself in a dark room,
trying to create distance from the choices that must be made.

Remember to be gentle,
to take a moment, dry your eyes,
and pick yourself up off the floor,

Because you must leave that dark room.

And when making those choices,
you must ask yourself “if not today, then when?”

Darling, please know,
once you decide today is that day,
you’re already on your way,
on your way back home to you.

— S.A. McCarthy // 05.26.2026

[wroteyouathing]

[wroteyouathing]

What Was Sewn Into Me

It began, like most things that end badly do, feeling like it meant something.
Slowly filling the spaces I never noticed were empty.
Like smoke weaving its way through your lungs,
engulfing them in soot and ash,
tar-black spreading through your insides,
latching onto each organ like a vulnerability.
Carving out hollow places in its wake,
making room for a different kind of suffering.
Spaces once filled with warmth and intrigue now rot in confusion and fear.
Aching for a peaceful breath.

Harsh words sewn into my insides as if they belonged to me.
Until they start to taste like they’re my own.
Mistakenly regurgitated as if I were a stranger to myself.
Absorbed so deeply, I’m left exposed,
my internal unraveling on display for faces I can’t even put a name to.

But there was always a hint of truth caught in my throat, suffocating me,
begging to be called out by name.

Deflection. Projection. Narcissism. Abuse.

Once stripped of its disguises, it no longer held any power.
Escaping my body through whatever means necessary: tears, rage, grief, art.
I feel the ash and soot leave my lungs,
replaced with light and love.
As I patiently unstitch each lie,
letter by letter,
until it knows me by name.

— S.A. McCarthy // 05.26.2026

[wroteyouathing]

The Things I Am, The Things I Am Not

I love complimenting people
Watching it bring light to their eyes
A genuine smile to their face,
I would say it’s something I do fairly often.
I have recently come to the realization that the only time I don’t compliment others
Is when I’m too busy focusing on the things I don’t like about myself
The things I am,
The things I am not.
What a silly waste of time
Not complimenting others
Not complimenting myself.

[wroteyouathing]

Meeting at new angles

[wroteyouathing]

[wroteyouathing]

I Will Be Me

You ever have days,
Where you wish you weren’t you?
And you thought to yourself,
“If not me, then who?”

I could be anyone,
Maybe even you.
And you could be me,
But you, I am not,
As you can see.

So I will be me,
And you will be you,
And we’ll just have to live
Like people who are themselves do.

- S.A. McCarthy // 01.11.2023