baby

trigger warning - i do not condone self harm, eating disorders, etc. this is for myself and my own personal use.

[yellowbabyblue]

I had an ex who didn't like to deal with my emotions, so would usually end up arguing "that was your choice, now you have to live with the consequences". When I was dating him, I hated hearing that. I felt so dismissed, shoved to the side, not cared about. It was horrible.

Now, I use that line against myself. When having an emotional time, I am somehow able to weasel his mean words out of my own mouth; telling myself to suck it up because it was my choice; my decision; my action; and now I have to deal with the consequences.

I cry for my younger self sometimes. I understand deep down why she did what she would do, but part of me pushes her down. It was her actions, now she has to deal with the consequences. And here I sit, dealing with the consequences decades later.

He was right, my ex. Why should I ask for any help, any guidance, when it was ultimately my fault. It is my fault. It always will be my fault.

[yellowbabyblue]

At one point all you needed was for someone to hold your hand.

I've tried to hold my hand.

It twists my wrists with a slight pain,

It feels uncomfortable, foreign almost

as if it weren't meant to be.

I scramble for options;

Patting my own back,

Wrapping my arms around myself,

Holding my own tender face,

It's all the same;

as if it weren't meant to be.

I argue like a great philosopher,

And my argument is as follows;

If holding myself the way, say, a mother holds her child,

feels as uncomfortable as a strangers greeting,

it is fair to say

we were meant to be together.

For if the Gods or the Universe; Whoever be it you believe in,

wanted us to be happy and whole,

They would have given us comfort in ourselves.

Instead we find solace in one another,

so as follows:

we were meant to be together.

[yellowbabyblue]

sometimes I wonder if this is all life has to offer.

nothing better can come from a world that has had its innocent, loving, roots pulled and replaced with cold, hard, concrete.

nothing better can come for a person who has tried to touch the world with love but had their fingers severed by hate.

the tangible world is inescapable.

[yellowbabyblue]

Rotting from the inside out

I've always had something rotten inside of me. I don't know if it's been there since birth, or if it's grown after years of trauma, but I have something rotten inside of me, and I fear it is growing so big that it has made me rotten. I fear that if someone were to get too close to me, if I were to shed a few too many layers and bared my soul for all to see, they'd notice the stench of abnormality. I fear that if people are around me too often, I may leak these rotten juices onto them, and they'll turn their noses up at me and face their backs to me. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I'll fix it please just don't leave! It engulfs me more and more every day. Cell by cell, its progress is slow, but it never fails to heel. Every now and then it suffocates me, but I've learned to breathe a little less. Take up less space. Find more layers to bury the stench. I don't mean to be rotten.

[amitycollectively-deactivated20]

mine

[yellowbabyblue]

i don’t want to be here anymore

[yellowbabyblue]

I can’t ever trust myself to be truly myself around anyone, because the people who were meant to allow me to express myself freely chose to silence me and teach me that I am less than those around me instead.

[yellowbabyblue]

i miss my dad. who he was before everything went wrong. i miss when we were happy. when mum was happy. when we were allowed to speak about you. when I was daddy’s little girl, his princess. i hated you for so long but that hatred was hidden behind the pain of how much I miss you. I mourn for a person who is very much still alive.

[yellowbabyblue]

I used to tell people that I would never leave their side because I know what it’s like to have someone leave, and I always hated that feeling. I hated that hole in your heart that feels like it will never be filled. That hole that keeps growing and growing, edges burnt with memories of ghosts; of those I loved ever so dearly to the point I was empty. There’s nothing there anymore. I’m empty. I’m more than empty. I’ve given more than I could offer and it’s never been enough. I’ve reached the point where I’m finally okay with leaving. The pain that others would feel could never amount to the pain I live with on a daily basis. The pain that seems to keep growing and growing. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, I don’t think it’s a tunnel. I think it’s a bottomless dark pit; one surrounded by slippery walls that don’t let me pull myself out; one covered in painful memories of what was and what could have been. I’m tired. I can’t keep revisiting memories of those I can’t let go, those who’ve left without a second thought, those who’ve hurt me; those who were meant to love me but instead stabbed me in the back and called it tough love. I wasn’t made for this world, and perhaps in the next I’ll be able to live freely. Live as the beautiful, innocent girl I was born as, not as the mangled, empty shadow I now embody. They say we should always be practicing self love, allowing myself to finally be put first, well, now I am. And when I’m gone, you can call me selfish, but remember I’ve always put others first, and now that I’ve decided to put myself first, for the first time since the day I was born, don’t forget that I did this for me.

[yellowbabyblue]

I don’t think I’ll last

If I sat alone, for even five minutes; Seeing the dark world around me, hearing the bustling streets and quiet chatter of inconspicuous people, the smell of dirty air with a hint of fresh trees, the feeling of that cold, dry breeze blowing ever so lightly against my pale face, slowly turning my nose and cheeks a rosy shade of red; I don’t think I’d be able to last. It’s not the fact that I’m alone today nor is it the fact that I’m impatient and five minutes seems to last hours. It’s the fact that I can’t bare to acknowledge the existence of my presence, nor do I think anyone else does. It’s dull and lifeless, and there’s not a single being who has ever truly wanted to stay, but I can’t blame them because even I don’t think I want to stay in this lonesome world. I’m a stray cat, abandoned and left to fend for myself, licking my own wounds and scavenging for scraps of love from passersby and other lost souls. I don’t think I’d be able to last. The lack of love fuels this empty feeling, no food could fulfil.

[yellowbabyblue]

My Mother’s an Artist

I admire the works of art created by my mother

The ones that fill the walls from the floor to the ceiling

From graphite to oil paint

And every medium in between

My mothers creations are filled with a beauty that none can recreate

The cemetery is my favourite

Engulfed by dark charcoal

The shady, sharp edges of each headstone

Filled with illegible names and dates that sit above secrets so dark they were buried to be kept out of the light

“I used to take photos of abandoned places”

My mother would proudly say

I witnessed it first hand

The numerous forgotten albums that sit in a storage box collecting dust

That are filled with photos of a young girl with white blonde hair and an obsolete smile that could light up even the darkest of rooms

I can’t help but stare at the reflection of that same girl through the glass engulfed by the beautifully crafted wooden frame

My face shrouded by the graves before me

Only one thought passes through my insignificant mind

The same single comprehensive thought that follows me like a shadow through each hour of the day

The cemetery is like a dream to me

One that I desperately anticipate each time my head hits the pillow

One that I can only wish to visit so soon

[i-will-recover-tomorrow]

[the-moon-whisperer]

[yellowbabyblue]

I attach myself to others similar to how otters attach themselves to one another to stop them from drifting apart

but my intentions are not as loving

mine are more manipulative and secretive as my parents showed me manipulation and secrets were the way to create the perfect facade

with tinted windows and locked doors to stop anyone from looking in but it’s not my fault I was taught to fake who I am to fit in

like I’m supposed to be a piece of a seven billion puzzle meant to fit perfectly so I’m not tossed aside with the misfits of the world

but I can’t help but find comfort in those imperfect puzzle pieces in the world as my childhood was perfectly hidden behind lies and repressed memories of what once was and what could have been

but this longing for the past is what creates these unhealthy attachments and assures me that if I stick my claws in slowly yet firmly I will be able to go full circle and finally feel like I belong in this puzzle we call society.

[yellowbabyblue]

I look for my father in every man

the same way I browse through racks of clothes

knowing all too well the perfect idea

placed ever so carefully in my mind

is something I can never fulfil

but it’s not my fault the standards I set

seem so out of reach

because my father came and went like the sunset

though his presence was never as beautiful

but no matter how much I hated that lingering scent of cigarettes and whiskey

I always seemed to long for him,

hoping that soon enough we would meet again

and maybe then it would be as beautiful as I had imagined.

It’s true I’m delusional in my own little wonderland

but as time moves on it seems too real

that I’m just trying to fix that broken relationship through every man,

using hammers and screwdrivers and every tool know to man

to see if he ticks the imaginary boxes I keep in the back of my mind

like there’s an ultimate list that must be met with green ticks and a perfect score

but I think I’m just colourblind because my friends tell me those ticks aren’t green

in fact they’re a deep yet vibrant red

But then again, I am my fathers daughter

and his favourite colour always seemed to be scarlet red

[yellowbabyblue]

Red Flags

lights are blurry and I can blame my astigmatism for that but red lights seem to have a film over them; maybe it’s not the lights but the colour red

[hel7l7]

How can this nothingness feel so big, so heavy. While at the same time it feels like there’s nothing at all.