/gasp/

Journal

Place me inside of a glass jar,
Release into the vast expanding
Universe we gasp for air.

Closed off. Veins pulsing. Hot,
Glowing orbs protest against our breath.
There is nothing to breath in this
shallow environment.

Everything is a thin film away
from being ours. Unobtainable, running
in circles around my cage. Unaware that
I have made no progress.

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ir·rev·o·ca·ble

Journal

Despite the fact that I’ve been sleeping with Tristan and don’t want anything to happen between Leo and I; I still love Leo.

I don’t want anything to happen because I know nothing serious could ever manifest between us. Emotionally, I’ve been removing him from my day to day life. All I ever wanted from him was something serious. I could tease anyone with nudes, I could fuck any number of people for fun, but all of that seems lost on me with him – I want none of that bullshit with him. It’s why I wore baggy pajamas when he came over to my place, I didn’t want it to feel like I was trying to seduce him ((haha, lunging at him to kiss did that for me.))

I wanted Leo to want me for the same reason I desired him; For the part of his soul that is indescribably pure, gentle, lovely. I didn’t want things to be about bodies and sex and physical attraction. That’s all I’ve ever had and I’m tired of meaningless rough sex. I’m tired of not being able to finish because right before I should orgasm, I think about him – followed by thoughts of futility, and not finishing because the person with me is not him.

It’s all so stupid, so many girls have obviously had feelings for him, I fell into a trap. He is a trap, and a loser of one at that. He never gave a fuck about me, I wish I hadn’t let myself get into this mess.

And the girl I know likes him, she is what he said he was looking for. Confident, full of sunshine and hope and happiness. I will never forget that he told me he wouldn’t be with me because he didn’t want to limit his future options, that I wasn’t what he wanted for one reason or another, honestly I missed a lot of what he was saying just trying to wrap my head around the fact that he said he wouldn’t be with someone who had depression (in less words.) That I wasn’t what he wanted. That is what I got; Leo did not want me.

I need to get away from him. Run away, never look back. There is no future there. There never was anything there. He used me for a confidence boost and obviously doesn’t want me to move on from him because it makes him feel good to know someone likes him – so he strings me on, even if it is unintentionally. And some of it is self-inflicted. I allow myself to flirt still and I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t even talk to him more than necessary for work.

He never gave a fuck. He will never give one. It’s time for me to give up, move forward, and continue pursuing the things in my life that will actually take me where I want to go and lead me to a person who loves me the way I once loved Leo. That’s all I want in life, for someone to feel for me the way I felt for him. Someone who has a career or plans for one, someone with motivation and charisma, interesting and unique.

I’ll find them, and they won’t be leo.

I’ve known this whole time that he would never work, but I’m swallowing the truth finally.

min·i·mal·ism

Journal

It’s important to recognize who you are, in no definition but your own.

For instance, I am an old soul. I love science. I love Oxford shoes and doc martens. I love listening to instrumental piano but also Ghostemane, I have a chip on my shoulder but at the end of the day I just want to be loved. I want to move to Bora Bora in the French Polynesia one day – and also somewhere quiet in the South of France. I love minimalistic art because it can say so much by using very little influence on the observer. A line, perhaps it represents the lifespan of a person, perhaps it represents the beginning and the end of all things. Maybe the line is there to exemplify that simple things are beautiful. Because somehow a line ended up in a national museum. Or say there are a bunch of lines, all of a sudden there are a million different lives being portrayed. A million different universes and you are in this one.

The world with salted dark chocolate. Where rain falls as water droplets and wine exists. A world where a kiss can mean a million things: hello, goodbye, I missed you, I love you, you’re attractive, I can never see you again.

We could have lived in a world with none of that. Water could just have moved by vapor. Chocolate might not have been compatible with our tastebuds. Kissing might have seemed silly.

And all of that came just from looking at lines.

Simple lines. Basic lines. Perhaps even boring lines.

But I would much rather live a boring life and live through all of it than run fast, burn quick, and die young.

Let’s make the good decisions.

I made an unorthodox “good decision” recently – letting someone I don’t love into my life. We have a lot of fun together, and like a puppy sometimes he doesn’t know when to calm down, but it’s cute. And I’m beginning to think he cares about me (which is dangerous).

Can someone take me back to Thai Pepper in Ashland? I don’t want to be the person who lives off of their past memories, leeching everything good out of the current life- but I miss my old friends. They were all so genuine. In the sort of way that Leo is genuine. They all remind me of who I know I am inside.

They are all curious.

ce·ment

Journal

Yet another night, staring into my own eyes, unrecognizable against the dark backdrop. They are filled with some substance? Something terrifying, absent.

A black matter, invisible yet completely present. Intangible.

Glazed over, they go on and on forever sinking deeper and deeper within me, and nothing.

There is nothing.

Emptiness. Dank, cold, something that would send chills of terror down the spine of any.

It’s the fear we all have, complete and utter loneliness. To be truly alone.

To have lost yourself.

To have realized the lies you have told yourself about one day waking up and suddenly feeling belonging. To suddenly feel satisfied.

It will never happen.

Everyday will be like this: the monotony. The plain. The early mornings. The bills. The endless work and school. I will never be free.

I can never live.

sat·is·fy

Journal

I have been met with criticism for my decisions. Done things that were not perfect, however no one is always.

Yes, I am aware, I use men for my own personal pleasure. Men who I don’t have feelings for.

But telling me I need to have self respect when you have your own problems you blatantly ignore is not only hypocritical, it’s laughable.

I am, at the least, aware of my shortcomings. I know that I find comfort in the arms of men I have no intentions of staying with. I know I’ve done it for a long time – it’s not a new flaw, it’s hardly even unique.

But I do it.

Some people pop Xanax, others steal, some harm themselves physically.

I just fuck men who say they love me. Even when I know they don’t. Especially when I know I don’t. They tell me it’s the best they’ve ever had, and I know they’re just saying that to get me to do it again. They say that it was incredible, but let’s be honest – neither of us really thought so. I’ve only had sex with someone more than once with one guy, and I think it was because he was the most desperate.

Everyone who inserts their opinions into my life without me asking seems to think I do it because I have no self esteem or standards or whatever – but the truth is, I find it empowering to know that at the drop of a hat all of these guys would do just about anything for me.

They have never been given the chance to by a girl before, and I gave them something, I saw something in them that made them believe in them self.

Many just think I have no standards, but the truth is, things are a lot deeper than that. I love the power.

But I diverted from my original topic, feeling like people are hypocritical for judging me for my issues when they know they have their own kryptonite and yet choose to judge me. Tell me that I’m insecure, when they are. Say that I need to pull myself together when they can’t afford their own bills. My mom tells me that I need to work harder, do more, when she is totally failing to do her job as my parent.

When will people realize I’m doing everything alone? That I wasn’t handed life on a silver platter and have had to work about twice as hard for everything I’ve got, including my fucking health.

I have issues some people will never even know exist, and yet they tell me how to live my life.

They can fuck off.

I’m doing the best that I fucking can, and since they have never had to live a day in my life, it’s best for me to just ignore it.

I’m exhausted, broke, can’t even relax because I have this problem where it feels like I constantly have to be doing something so I don’t fail.

I have assignments I have to do, but no more motivation. I know I have to work most of this weekend, but I don’t want to wash my work clothes. I want to lay in bed and cry, but even that pleasure cannot be enjoyed.

Nothing is satisfying.

Insecurity

Humanist, Journal, Personal, Poetry

The restless nagging,
Persistent jabbing,
At what used to be my confidence.

The thoughts that infiltrate my head,
Saying they’re laughing at me –
That I shouldn’t be their friend.

As I’m walking to my classes and
Someone looks my way,
It says they’re judging me.

It’s eating away at my desire
to feel love and belonging.
Telling me to hide myself away.

Poetry

beautiful, Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Memories, Nature, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Poetry, school, Small Things, Smiling

Sweet voices, little voices

they wander in the garden.

Saying words that mean so little –

Saying words that mean so much.

Their words traverse through the garden,

they wander aimlessly.

The little voices have little feet

that will carry their bodies far.