miss-saytr

[miss-saytr]

I think I messed up again.

And I think about you and the things that I try not to let others see. My hands are shaky and my anxiety tells me that there are cameras on me.

We did this. I did this. I let you let this happen. And I’m wrong. I’m so damn wrong. Jeez why can’t I find out what’s wrong? This is all fine and no one’s hurt, right? I should choose friends over what society says, but jeez, what the fuck did they mean by that? Why are the people that tell me that also society themselves?

Maybe I’m too nervous. I’m surrounded by my family and I’ve said something and I’m holding in the tears. I’m holding in the thoughts. Why am I cornered by my own mind?

I close my eyes and I think of someone I knew and I remember what it was like when she was ten. And here she is now, stuck on the floor, her glasses broken, her hair up, and I just can’t imagine what it’s like when you threw her down in there. There’s blood on the floor. Her mouth is open.

I shake.

I remember your name. I remember what I thought of you.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #spilled ink #warm up #anxiety poem

[miss-saytr]

I’m so sorry that I was born the way I was. It’s super funny to me too. I know I’ve tried to jump the bridge a few years ago about this, but I want to laugh it off. I’m funny, I know that. I know I can’t control how I was born, but it’s so funny when you boop my nose and squish it around because I was a kid when things out of my control happened.

I promise you I do this to cope. I cope with humor. I may as well be a comic relief character in a high budgeted movie. You know that about me, and then you gently pat my head and continue on with your life.

I’m embarrassed with myself. I know I can’t control how I was born but I genuinely just wish I could throw everything away and disappear too. I wish I could just be your neighbor and agree to everything you say.

No… what am I saying? I shouldn’t feel guilty of who I was born as. I shouldn’t feel guilty about things that happened out of my control when I was a toddler and kid. I shouldn’t feel guilty about trying to understand other people’s viewpoints when mine are very different.

Maybe I should just sit down for a moment and wonder why I’m so anxious about this. I just want you to know I’m doing my best. That’s all.

But I also want you to know I don’t want to be selfish and trying to excuse myself. I’m just explaining.

Sorry.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #spilled ink #anxiety problems #warm up #random #coping mechanism #tw self destruction

[miss-saytr]

I can’t believe there’s something so extremely valuable in our friendship.

I didn’t know that you reaching out to me about something so silly would lead to where we are now. It genuinely makes me cry to think about if we never met each other.

You are a small and soft bunny who lies on my lap and bites my jeans as I pet it. You can fit in my pocket and I can take you wherever I go. You fall asleep so easily, so I compile things to share with you for when you awake so your morning or afternoon can be blessed with small samples of joy.

Bunnies are anxious creatures so I hold them tightly to the gentle heartbeat of warm pillows and protect the bunny when it gets anxious. Humans are also anxious, so the bunny cuddles near the crook of the neck to dry the tears when I’m shaking and breathing sporadically about the smallest things that happened to me.

The most beautiful part of it all is that before, during, and after the storm, we share the same world together. And I think that’s beautiful.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #spilled ink #metaphor #frienship #friendship poems #friendship poetry #happiness #comfort

[miss-saytr]

Oh, hey toxic person in my life.

Hey I’m sorry I cut you off for a bit. No, yeah, I just needed a break. I needed your help, that’s all. Yeah, I know you’re upset. I’m sorry.

Oh, hey toxic person—

Yeah I can do that for you. It’s no problem. It’s a lot of work and it’s hard for me to say no. You know that. Ok, I’ll do it. It’s not too big a deal to me though. I can get through it.

Hey toxic person.

I know I can’t cry in front of you. Others have it worse, I know. I should be grateful for where I am, and I’m too sensitive. I understand.

Hey toxic person.

I can’t leave because you’re important to me in one way or another. Some part of my life comes from your benefit. That’s fine. Yes you’re good enough for me. No you’re not better off dead.

Hey.

Get your foot off my face. I tried to explain why I wanted to tell you that you were wrong about a small thing. I didn’t mean that I didn’t believe you, I just wanted to politely inform you why you were wrong.

Hey

Never once did you say thank you or please or you’re welcome or sorry or

Hey.

I feel safe without you. Stop blowing up my phone. This is why I cut you off. I can enjoy my life without you sometimes. Get off my back.

Hey!

I relapsed. I need you. It’s fine. I’m sorry about what I said. Yeah, I know you’re upset. I’m sorry.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #toxic relationship #toxic people #toxic parents #toxic family #toxic friends #toxic person #spilled ink #tw abuse #tw self destruction

[miss-saytr]

Life is rough. I sit in my tight little room and cry because I compare myself to others. I know who’s better than me and who deserves more than I do.

I know they don’t like me. Well, to be fair, it’s the anxiety talking, but I said something that was out of touch and got confronted on it, and I took it well, but I believe you let in linger in yourself because you haven’t reached out to me since. For that I apologize.

I’ve been told not to compare myself to others by my friends. However I’ve been told to compare myself to others by older adults because life is unfortunately a competition for some reason. So I sit and trust no one that is Gen X (except Tommy, who I owe my life to) and try to find out if I’m being too sensitive or if I’m actually asking for some damn respect around here.

I have some privileges that others don’t have, but I also have some struggles that not a lot have. I wonder if I can ever truly find out where my place is. I don’t want to be petty. I don’t want to say “oh woe is me.” But I don’t want to be a tyrant. I don’t want to be selfish.

I rip my own flesh off trying to find out how to be perfect. I found out I wasn’t perfect and I figured that I need to be punished if I hurt someone’s feelings, so I hurt myself. Now I feel like everyone stares at me with those glowing eyes a predator has.

I want you to tell me what I did wrong. Not just so I can improve, but I can make up for it. What do you wish from me? For me to stab my eye out? To cut off a toe? Maybe a finger? Go on. I don’t live for myself because I have anxiety. I live for others.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #spilled ink #anxiety problems #generalized anxiety disorder #anxiety struggles #anxiety stuff #anxiety poem #vent poem #overwhelmed #burnt out #anxiety ridden #anxiety things #tw self destruction #anxiety is kicking my ass

[miss-saytr]

I don’t like you.

You make me want to rip all my skin off even if you’re doing something so small. I know you want me to be annoyed. I know you do.

You don’t respect me. You play victim. You’re insecure. You have a lot of internalized ableism. You blame the fact that you can’t change because “this is the way I am.”

The only way to win is to ignore you. But you’re not going anywhere, are you? You keep pushing. You’re a hypocrite. You lay the ground for an innocent conversation and then blow up like a land mine once you catch someone.

You’re an awful person. Congratulations, you made me write about you. Big fucking congrats. Do you want a trophy, you toddler-brained rat? Do you want a gold star? Do you want some more attention just to make yourself feel better than everyone else? Do you want to pretend you’re handling your autism better than everyone else to make yourself feel good because you’re so insecure?

I know you haven’t changed in years. You refuse to change. You’re a prick. You do this all on purpose. And my anxiety forces me to stay. Of course it does.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #vent writing #vent poetry #generalized anxiety disorder #social anxiety #anxiety problems #autism #autism struggles

[miss-saytr]

If I feel that the vibes are off, then why do I bother to stay?

It’s only been a week, but I feel like I’ve been sucked into being myself for the most part. If all you do is gossip, then is it really worth it in the end? I feel as if as soon as I mess up or do a small thing you don’t like, you’re going to talk shit behind my back.

Now, it could just be the anxiety talking, and I’m very much aware of that. But I am entirely sure that jumping into a friend group that mostly gossips is not as welcoming as I thought it was.

You have already established you appreciate me and that I can easily change for the better. I understand that I make mistakes, but I don’t think it’s worth it if my instincts are telling me that this isn’t as much of a safe space as I thought it would be. I feel as if I messed up telling you things about my personal life so soon. I understand that nobody jumps into things that quickly and that I may be bad at reading social queues, but I think if I worry that bad… then this isn’t for me.

Yet what do I continue to do? I continue to stay despite the warning signs. I continue to stay so I can feel like I belong somewhere. I want to belong so badly.

I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt for now. I’m going to let blame my irrational anxiety for this for now. I’m going to blame your stressed state of mind for now.

Hopefully this will all just be a funny memory with irrational worries.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #vent poetry #vent writing #anxitey #anxiety problems #social anxiety #generalized anxiety disorder #spilled ink #not seeking advice #just venting

[miss-saytr]

“I went down south with a pen and a mask”

-“See, that’s when I moved to college. (Laughs) I had a lot of fun down there but was during the height of Covid. The pen is the stylus I used to draw, and the mask, well, (laughs)”

“I came back up with a difficult task”

-“I had been sent to the hospital over (inaudible) reasons. I had to keep all my mental health together.”

“It was dancing dizzy days after three years”

-“Go on to the next line. I’ll describe it there.”

“The sweetest way to describe all your childhood fears”

-“Ok, so, that was when I was helping a friend write a book. I had to balance, (laughs) right? No no, ok. I had to balance that and my college work. The dizzy part before refers to growing up and how much it sucks. The ‘childhood fears’ was what the book had a lot of themes in. I’m sorry, I can’t tell you what the book is.”

“Hold your head in my hands and tell me what’s wrong”

-“Keep going.”

“Nobody here is singing your beautiful song”

-“So, this part is about [her]. She worked with us for a long time and just looked tired all the time. She couldn’t handle the stress of the workload. The song part is just about her artwork in general and how she was under appreciated as an artist. She had a bad streak of luck.”

“Popped a vein over the wavering hand”

-“I like this one the best. ‘Wavering hand’ refers to bosses and professors and teachers and such. They put so much pressure over her she may have, um, actually hurt herself in order to escape it. It sucks.”

“It’s difficult to say I’ll never see you again”

-“This is just what happened. [She] ended her life, scared about the AI thing and the pressure. She thought there was no point. The part at the end of this poem where her name is repeated ten times is because of her friends and classmates, including me, who kept calling her name and trying to wake her up. But she was dead. Yeah, (laughs nervously) that was kinda messed up of me. I feel bad about it. I didn’t know, but I still feel bad.”

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #spilled ink #grief poetry #metaphor #conversation #tw self h4rm #tw sui talk #tw grief #metaphorical #ai art #fuck ai writing #fuck ai art

[miss-saytr]

I was born a sheep, and I was put into a world where I have to walk alone at night sometimes.

Sheep stick together and that’s natural for us. Sheep can see during the day and that’s all right. Sheep have friends and family that check in on them.

To get to point A to point B, I know it isn’t safe. Because during the night, there are glowing eyes that watch me. I don’t know if the glowing eyes belong to wolves or dogs, but they all glow during the night, so I always assume the worst.

I continue to walk down the path while trying to look away from those glowing eyes. When a set of them approach me, it was just a dog stalking like a wolf, passing by to where it needs to go. Dogs and wolves need to go places too. Even wolves will walk by me, and I won’t even notice, because maybe that wolf has already had its dinner for the night and I was lucky.

Wolves will blabber about how sheep shouldn’t look so tasty. Sheep have been hunted and killed no matter how much wool covers them. Sheep are sheep to wolves like that. Sheep are sheep which means wolves will lick their lips upon the smell of one behind closed doors… usually. Sheep are sheep so wolves will get tired of the usual rabbit or squirrel from their forest and go attack the sheep because they are never satisfied with their kill.

What my metaphor gets wrong is that men and women are the same species. What my metaphor gets wrong is that wolves hunt out of survival, instinct, and to eat. What my metaphor gets wrong is that women have tools to protect themselves.

But damn, I really do feel like a sheep walking in the woods by myself as the glowing eyes of wolves watch me.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #spilled ink #women’s safety #women’s poetry #metaphorical moments #metaphorical #metaphor #women’s issues

[miss-saytr]

Two days after Christmas, we walked into the forest together so we could talk about small things. You wore that fluffy jacket I like that had traces of black fur from your cats. I went and kicked rocks while you took the path with the least amount of troubles. The cauliflower colored clouds made you sick, and the dry air made me dehydrated.

You asked me to walk on the ice river. It was cold enough not to break. I refused because I didn’t want to crush us under the ice and get your brown Uggs wet. You jumped a little bit. You were wondering how much more trouble you would bring to me.

You told me a lot of things about yourself. You are very open, somber, and melancholy. I can see and understand why, because you told me why. There is a part of me that wanted to explain everything about myself to you back, but so much has ruined my anxiety to make me feel like I’m “trauma dumping” on you, when in fact when you do it, I don’t even mind because we’re friends.

I told you about what I keep in my purse because I feel like a sheep who could run into a wolf at any moment, whether the wolf be someone else or myself. Not everyone is brave to admit they want attention, but I want attention from you at times. Sometimes it’s because I respect you, but other times I just want your attention like a toddler who’s asking their parents to watch them do a trick. That trick in question might be something personal about myself because I feel comfortable to share with you. You saw a scar on my arm and I didn’t feel like lying to you that day so you became worried about me. You texted me one night going on a bit about things that make you laugh. I just want to hold onto that memory.

I eventually stepped onto the icy river and nothing happened. We walked under a bridge and I said it was the perfect place to write graffiti because of the clean blank concrete. You hit me on my back lightly and told me that’s a crime. You chuckled.

There was the hot breath seen in the cold air from that chuckle. Not only could I hear the chuckle, I could see it. It made it feel real and genuine, like I could snatch it up with a net like a butterfly.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #spilled ink #metaphorical moments #self care #friends #spilled poetry #poem #love peoms #a little queer #I needed to write

[miss-saytr]

I don’t want to lose you.

I haven’t even had you for a year and I’m so protective of you. You are a big part of my life. You took me out of depression. I hold you in my arms at night and I think about you constantly, even in my dreams.

I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I know that’s not possible, and I can think of you whenever, but I really mean it this time. I’ve meant it with others before, and I truly do wish they stayed, but I love you so much. I can’t thank you enough for being there for me, and you don’t get to understand a single word of it.

I know you love me too. I just wish you knew how much I loved you. I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s not that type of unhealthy obsession, it’s a type of love, I promise. To care about you so much says a lot about me. Come closer and I can whisper secrets about myself into your year. Come closer and if you understand so I can tell you about how you saved my life. Come closer and I can tell you about people who love you that you don’t even know exist.

Tonight, I want you to hold me in your arms this time. In a way, you took care of me.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #comfort #pet #metaphor #this means something deeper but I don’t have the energy to make it personal #spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #I love you so much #I wish I could tell you that #and it actually reaches you

[miss-saytr]

You’re a strange specimen of a person.

During a period of time, I wanted to feel your lips against mine as you mispronounced hard English words in your daffodil-coated accent. A week after that, I wanted to punch you in the stomach for making such insensitive assumptions about me. We still talk nonstop and you tell me about something that saved you and I tell you about something that broke me.

I don’t think I ever understood “love-hate relationship” like I do now with you. You’re a bitch at times and you own it, having your own ground on things you are sure you won’t change your mind about. I feel like you’re a princess in a castle who ran away from home, and you have no one to tell you that you’re pretty so you start to believe the harsh things you tell yourself because no one is there to ground you in reality. Like, God damnit, why won’t you just take a compliment instead of insisting you’re such a bad person?

I think the way you write is beautiful and I want to help you grow that. You should consider publishing a fantasy book about children who have no mothers so they find themselves as a family and rescue other children in their position. I think the way you make me see people in a different perspective makes me realize that I can take a deep breath and not be so anxious. I could feel you write yourself into that story you made. I could feel you hug this version of the person who saved your life somewhere in the world when I was just born.

You didn’t have to be so vulnerable around me when you told me about your backstory. You could have kept that to yourself, but no, you used it as fuel to the fire to write so passionately that you forget how an English sentence should be structured. Sometimes I want to do the same thing back, but that’s when your bitch comes out and you have very different things to say about how I handle my depressive episodes in life. And after you’re done being a bitch you apologize to me that it happened and I didn’t deserve it as a person. I wish you could say that to yourself.

Maybe I’m being too judgmental and I just don’t understand or remember that your upbringing made you like this. Maybe I’m just not meant to try so hard to find a way to make you feel comfortable and or relate to you because you’re not from my generation. It’s strangely comfortable to have a friend more than a decade older than me like you. If we disagree on something, I don’t have to worry about you having a serious tantrum and breaking off contact over something minor. If I told you I was going to hurt myself tomorrow, you would spit on my face and call me stupid for even considering it, but then the next day I would catch you coming over and forcefully pull me away from that cliff, purring like a panther to get me to stop.

Maybe I do deserve the bitchy part sometimes. Maybe I do deserve the comforting part sometimes. I have a disability that makes it hard to communicate in the way that I’m actually thinking, so I spew nonsense. Hopefully I don’t use that as an excuse every time I say something awry. I just want to be honest, but the truth is both multiple things and yet nothing at all.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled words #love hate relationship #friends #if you’re reading this #which I doubt #I’m screwed because I’m gonna get your bitchy side #but I still love you #my advice is go write a book

[miss-saytr]

I always said that you had the sky in your eyes.

Somewhere in my brain there is a memory of me meeting you for the first time. Somewhere in my brain there is a memory of introducing you to my grandma. Somewhere in my brain there is a memory of when we brought you home.

I can stand outside in the January cold with Gatorade on my lips, and your nose will come to sniff them for a brief moment. I can put a blanket on you and expect that you stay warm, but I still worry about you. I can watch an older movie to forget about what’s going on for a bit. I can stay up and talk to my best friend about what’s going on as he expresses his sympathy.

No matter how much I cuddled you and gave you treats and scratched your back, it never felt like enough. I feel guilty. But you don’t see it that way, do you? All you can do is love me, and that’s all you ever have to do. No, I’m sorry, it’s all you ever had to do.

You’re gone.

It’s ok, I can make it through this. Say hi to Grandma for me.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #tw grief #grief poetry #grief poem #grief/mourning #loss of a pet #loss

[miss-saytr]

The thing about having a December birthday is that it’s always going to be the same. Your wishlist for your birthday and Christmas is just split up between the holidays and your birthday. You’re never going to have time to decide what new things you want in between that time. You’re going to count the things you didn’t get for the first day you opened presents and expect them for that next day of opening presents.

Maybe it would be nice to have a summer birthday. Maybe “Jingle Bell Rock” doesn’t have to play when I’m eating cake. Maybe it would be nice to go to an outing that isn’t decorated in the Christmas spirit, as every time you look back on older photos, there are going to be wreaths and holiday lights, and even the Grinch once. Maybe it would be nice to celebrate my birthday with an activity outside. You know, when it’s warm. Maybe it would be nice to go to somewhere that isn’t closed when your only option to go somewhere is a holiday light show.

I don’t exactly wish to change it like that. It must be nice for the people buying presents for me that they can purchase the gift on sale on Black Friday or Cyber Monday, or whatever we’re doing now. It must be nice to get recommendations for last minute gift ideas. It’s nice for me too, because family members get to give me two different gift cards in a short period of time.

There’s no use in complaining, just explaining what it’s like to have a December birthday. And hey, if you’re a December birthday kid— or anywhere in a similar position of holiday and birthday mashup— you can find comfort knowing you’re not alone.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #spilled ink #december baby #december birthday

[miss-saytr]

“Making art just for yourself has a deep, personal flavor and different meaning to it.”

As I was thinking of a low time in my life, I thought of this quote and picked up the pen and drew. Despite being a happier person, I do have my healthy sad moments. I’ve realized that a lot of my work I make for the intention, at least a little bit, to show to other people.

Don’t get me wrong, many artists have the intention to show their work to the world. It’s something that comes naturally for a lot of us. The need to share because we are social creatures overtakes us no matter if it’s to strangers or your only close friend. It’s just this quote made me think about making something for myself and myself only. Despite that, there’s always this thought in the back of my head going,

“What if an audience sees this?”

Is my vent art cliche? Cringey? Edgy? Bad? Something a young teenager would make? Something an older art critique png YouTuber would put in his awful art compilation? Something you could compare to Deviantart? Is it because that I’m Gen-Z so my vent art can not compare to older generations who drew about war, politics, and genocide? Is it only valid when the art is venting about something that affects a lot of people? Then is it something valid as commentary about world events, and not something very personal? Is it more valid painted with oil on canvas than it is digital with a trending art program?

And I think to myself, I know how the audience would react. If this vent art is about an existing character you can relate to, what will fans of that character and or series think? “It’s too edgy, it’s out of character, she would never do that, why her?” And if it’s your own self or own character, it’s too personal to have anyone care about it. “Who is that? Is that you? Do I need to call someone? Why do you look like that?”

What if I just feel like drawing something? What if it just comes to me? What if it’s my own self expression? I don’t need to think about an audience seeing this. My overthinking brain comes up with this scenario about how a large group of people will accidentally see it somehow. And I think that’s the main reason I barely make vent art at all. It adds to this weird urge to explain why I draw everything so someone doesn’t see it negatively or in a way I don’t want it to be seen.

So I took all my anxieties and future worries away and drew what I wanted.

And I felt stronger.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #making art #vent art #societal norms #societal expectations #societal problems #poetry about art #poem about art #personal #personal art #social media #tw genocide #anxiety problems #creative expression #writing about art

[miss-saytr]

The scariest twenty minutes of your life happened. And it won’t even compare.

All you really did was stand up for yourself even if you didn’t have to. All you had to do to not get in trouble nor get into physical fighting. Not speaking, just sitting, just sighing, just listening. But no, you stood up and spoke out. You fought. You were going to die on that hill. You weren’t going to live kneeling.

Honestly I admire you a lot for that. You’re younger than me and you know your world so much better than I do. You make quite a few mistakes, you tumble, you yell, you spew nonsense when you’re angry. Well, you spew nonsense when you’re scared, and that’s because you’ve been thought boys can’t get scared, so you replace it with anger. But that’s a different conversation. And usually when you’re angry and spewing nonsense it’s for a good reason because you won’t tolerate bullshit even if it comes from strangers having a conversation that you were never involved in from the first place.

You thought you were going to die too, and you sat there when your best friend pulled out a gun on you, and you furrowed your brow when his girlfriend backed away in horror, at that point she would have agreed to anything you would have said just to not get shot herself, but he wasn’t focusing on her. I could feel the terror in her voice when she held my hand and told me about it all.

He didn’t even shoot you yet and you looked at him dead in the eye, saying you won’t stand for this. Won’t stand to see any more kids get hurt. Won’t stand to see those kids grow up in this world. Won’t stand to be the only person who believes in what is right even if the entire world was against him. I will admit, it sounded completely badass, like a main character in a movie.

I think when you had the blanket on you, and a Squirtle plushie in your hands, and your feet exposed to the cold air of the open bedroom window during a breezy day in November, you actually felt the chills of realizing what happened to you. And Tommy got you some cherry ice cream and Coca Cola when you started yelling about it to yourself, like an insane person, thinking everything was a dream. You know, lying to yourself. He walked right into the kitchen when he heard you scream. He knows you better than I do, better than your dad even.

It scared me for a few days until I realized you got over it before I did. I wonder if it has to do with you being raised a boy again. Or you’re hiding it. I’m sorry, I really don’t want to make you more uncomfortable than you already are. I’m writing this because I saw you this morning with a smile and I wanted to get the feelings out.

I admire you a lot.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #serious #tw shooting #standing up for yourself #admiration #serious post #strange times

[miss-saytr]

Be yourself this Halloween.

If putting on the mask makes you who you truly are, then let it sit.

That’s it, that’s the post.

#writblr #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #happy halloween #spooky season #Halloween