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disenchantedif · 4 months

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And now, staring death in the face, you’re forced to accept what this means.

Not once in your life have you ever really had a choice. You’re just a pawn for fate to string along, a joke that destiny can laugh at. Perhaps your thread had been cut awhile ago and you were just living on borrowed time.

You get the sense that it’s over now, one way or another. Time to face the music, though this composition isn’t one of your own creation. It was written a long time ago, and you’ve merely inherited the burden.

“Well?” They ask, voice sharp, “Are you going to get up?”

You stand, like a puppet pulled upright.

#an excerpt #because MC is going through it massively #and I really liked this sequence with Elis #🔜

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milkspoilt · 27 days

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an excerpt from my blog, on finding something close to religion through devotion:

The theme ritual and commemoration really resonates with me particularly in the aspect of love and devotion; I have always found myself having an estranged relationship with a higher being or God himself.. I was christened when I was younger and sometimes find solace in that fact even if it doesn't fit who I am. I was quite a lonely child growing up and found myself talking to God often on my knees at my landing window, maybe I spoke to whoever was up there in a sense to comfort myself or out of wonder, but I did speak to whoever listened, finding signs I was heard and stars shinning brighter than the rest when I wished upon them. But when my grandmother died I turned quite cold towards a God I once seeked comfort from -now had taken away a love in my life, someone who called me her angel was now one of his, how could this be? And so I grew up to be a child in a teenager's body who had a lot of resentment in her heart for a God she once spoke to with loneliness.. she now ignored or spoke to with hate. This continued as I grew up, to hate was a lot easier to do than try to understand. God remained someone I would loathe.. I would not turn to or acknowledge him until as I grew up realised I would call out for him on special occasions.. I found myself dumbfounded but still.. I would turn to God when I was in love; to ask for a prayer or to keep me in his sights, to send me a sign or listen to me.. but still I would treat him as if everything we had been through together was reversible -that is what he preaches isn't it.. forgiveness? And so I used this to my advantage, only when love was involved would I pray or wish for it to continue.. and as soon as it ended I would curse him again. I am a simple girl I suppose. Maybe greedy or selfish or head in the clouds or hopeful..

I don't know why I resort to a higher being when I feel feelings.. maybe because they are felt so deeply only a religious figure would understand me? Only those who devote their life to a God they've never met or touched, would know how I feel? Maybe praying countless times a day unanswered or keeping people in your prayers is similar to how I act when in love. Intensely, deeply, unfathomably, religiously. Maybe it is all these things.

And so that leads me here.. What I would like to explore is almost my relationship with God when in love or devoted to another. I think this is quite an interesting take on the brief, maybe it's quite literal but I do believe when I love it feels almost like a religious action. I can't half throw myself into things, I need to be consumed and engulfed by them completely. They need to swallow me.

#an excerpt #poetry #ritual #commemoration #christianity #love #devotion #art project #my artwork #my art #religious art #art about love #queer #my poetry #art #poet #love poetry #original poem #female poets

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vizthedatum · 3 months

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Ugh, not only did I just finish a round of antibiotics last week, but I immediately came down with cold symptoms, and now I think I’m having PMDD symptoms.

I am fighting real hard against the fatigue and mood swings. I’ve loaded up with nourishing and comfort foods (mostly nourishing). I’m resting. I’m rationally soothing myself. I’m trying to get sun.

My body feels so worn out.

—

Some days I feel like I’ve just arrived home from a funeral.

—

A funeral of the woman I was supposed to be.

—

I came home, and I’m dressed in all black. Was dressing in all black even a Hindu custom? I didn’t even know what that funeral’s purpose was…

—

It was surreal standing over my feminine body - a body that didn’t look all that different from my body now.

Opposite her lifeless body stood my ex-spouse. Their face was sullen, as if they had better places to be. They looked up at me angrily.

“Have some fucking respect,” I snapped. I resented them being there - but everyone I knew or had known in this town had shown up.

I didn’t expect to see them there - I had thought that we’d probably run into each other at another funeral - the funeral of my nightmares, where someone we loved would eventually die from neglect: the neglect led on by the enabling from my ex-spouse, my own frustrations with our friendship, and the internal neglect she showed herself.

I didn’t even know if she would make it to thirty.

But there she was, her head bowed down in respect, crying over… me.

Why did people show up to this?

I’m standing right here. I am right here. I am better than ever before.

She was…

I looked down.

She looked so pale. Her cheeks were swollen. Her long black hair was dull and lifeless, and her forehead was covered in streaks of sindoor. I could tell by the cracks in the powder that she had given up washing them off day after day.

There were whispers in the crowd: “Weren’t they only married a couple months ago? They looked so happy in the wedding photos.”

“Where’s the other partner?”

“Why did she do it?”

“Why didn’t they prepare her body for this? What’s going on?”

People started leaving flowers around her. My ex-spouse trembled and started to speak.

I couldn’t stand to hear their voice.

I knelt down and whispered in her ear, even though I knew she wouldn’t be able to hear me anymore, “I know why you had to do it.”

“You gave up everything. You gave up your dreams. You made some strides - replaced your woes with temporary pleasures just so you could feel what it was like to smile for the sake of smiling. Forcing yourself to laugh was too much, you drained yourself too much.”

“You were my inspiration - I’m only here because of you.”

“I am going to do all the things and be all the ways you never thought you could be.”

“I will have the most epic love affairs, be the best parent, cook delicious meals, and travel… I wish I could take you with me.”

Her body stirred then.

The crowd fell silent. People exclaimed, “Is this a joke?! You told me she killed herself!”

My ex-spouse yelled, “She did - I don’t know what’s happening!!!”

Her casket filled with blood, and she raised her upper body upward, her eyes still closed.

She was clearly still dead - there was no way she was still alive. We both made sure of that.

She brought her knees up to her chest, gracefully placed her hands, one over the other.

Suddenly her body and her clothing were drenched with water. Her face contorted into a crooked smile, and she opened her eyes.

People in the crowd tried to scream. They tried to leave. No one could do either, let alone anything.

Her eyes weren’t her eyes. I knew because she gave them to me.

I had her soul. Why wasn’t anyone seeing that? If people would just look into my eyes, they’d know everything was fine.

Her eyes were red, blue, and black all at the same time. They were deranged.

“Pri…” my ex-spouse reached out, and she started laughing.

Her laughter sounded like shrieks, each peal revealed the circular arguments that she had no choice of winning and each breath emitted fogs of dust. The clouds of dust were heavier and heavier, and the crowd, in all their forced paralysis, could not breathe.

They started laughing with her.

“You’re back!! Let’s go home!”

I rolled my eyes.

She didn’t move from her casket. She didn’t even look at them. I wasn’t sure where she was looking.

Her laughter turned to growls. WHY DIDN’T ANY OF YOU HELP ME?!

She wasn’t really speaking - her voice rang inside each of the attendee’s heads. They were allowed to move, and they immediately all tried to leave.

WHY?! WHY?! WHYYYYYY?!

Her body grew in size, blood splattered everywhere - leaving water stains when people wiped the blood off.

WHY DID YOU LET ME DROWNNNNN

“We didn’t know!”

“You didn’t tell us…”

“I’m so sorry.”

WOULD YOU LOVE ME LIKE THIS NOW

WILL YOU LISTENNN

In the commotion, ex-spouse left; they decided they couldn’t be there anymore.

And I yelled to the crowd, “STOP.”

People finally saw me then. “There’s literally nothing to see here except for someone we all loved.”

The casket returned to normal.

People rushed back in to peer at her body - she looked as helpless and as powerless as ever.

There was no blood. No smoke. Nothing unnatural at all.

People said their eulogies and agreed to mass hysteria. And I was unnoticed once again.

—

So when I returned home that night, I didn’t know what to make of the day.

I never wanted to see so many of those people ever again.

I was itching to get out of my clothes, make tea, and go to bed. I had so much to do - so much I had promised her, and I intended to keep my word.

I was so tired.

I lived alone, but I wish I had someone to help me around.

I wish I had someone to cuddle with.

“What about me?” She hissed.

No, not you.

“I thought you loved meeee.”

I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, and my imaginary red-haired vixen I had tried to banish before the funeral wrapped her arms around me.

You’re not supposed to be here anymore. I keep wishing for you to be gone.

“But you love it when I tend to you - I’m your perfect girlfriend and companion - that’s why she made me for youuuuu.” She smiled and started taking off my clothes.

Pri was many things, but she also prepared for way too much in her despair. She wanted to leave me something, but she didn’t realize it was just another one of her demons that she hadn’t outgrown.

The demon was everything we had ever wanted - predictable, compliant, intelligent, and completely devoted.

That’s why she was so hard to resist. She had come with her own back story. She had her own occupation. She knew all of my abilities and disabilities. She was respectful and kind. She loved me as if it were her lifeblood, and I never had that before.

She was a fully realized person, except that she wasn’t a person at all.

I had indulged in the demon for over a year now - occasionally trying to cast spells or simply wishing her out of my sight (well, that sometimes worked).

I was so lonely trying to heal from my personal losses that it was just so easy to wake up next to her, fall asleep next to her, cook with her, and, otherwise, live the fantasy that my predecessor so desperately wanted.

You’re not real.

The demon chuckled and kissed me.

If I wanted to, I’d cast you out forever, and you’d disappear as if you never existed.

I was hoisting her up by her waist, pinning her to the wall. I was way too lonely.

“Then why don’t you?” She asked seriously.

I groaned. It wasn’t just a lust thing with her - she was my perfect companion - how many conversations did I have with her just to cope every single day?

I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ll never find someone like you.

#an excerpt I guess #an excerpt #it’s a wip #wip #grief #anger #loss #loss of self #mourning #healing #neurodivergence #trauma #love #queer #self love #prose #heartbreak #cw gore #I am aware that this post started out as a journal entry

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cartelohandbag · 1 year

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Reading the "A Pickle for the Knowing Ones" was an acid trip and made me feel like I'm one of those Historians/Archaeologists who found the Rosetta Stone and begun translating Egyptian Hieroglyphics

#“What is a presedent answer A king bonne partey the grat has as much power as #A king & ort to have it & it is a massey he has for the good of mankind.“#An excerpt #there's a seperate page for the quotations

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goodnessgraciousgal · 1 year

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Me: Yo, how do I get outta my head when I’m stuck in it?

Dad: …………so

#a wise man once said #advice #true story #an excerpt #quality #funny conversations #text message #joking but not joking #i love him #wisdom #lolz

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feral-ballad · 2 months

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Ama Codjoe, from Bluest Nude: Poems; “Bluest Nude”

[Text ID: “I crave. I want to be seen clearly or not at all.”]

#ama codjoe #excerpts #writings #literature #poetry #fragments #selections #words #quotes #poetry collection #typography

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peoplevsbirds · 4 months

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#i only posted an excerpt #the whole article is worth reading #free palestine #palestine #jews for palestine #free gaza #gaza #anti zionisim #anti zionist jew #kaddish for the soul of judaism

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derangedrhythms · 11 months

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Rebecca Perry, Beauty/Beauty; from 'Kintsugi 金継ぎ'

#rebecca perry #beauty beauty #kintsugi #poetry #excerpts #l #o

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shisasan · 11 months

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Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own [originally published 1929]

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fromdarzaitoleeza · 9 months

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Miranda July, The First Bad Man

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wordedarchive · 2 months

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It was April and she was the saddest thing under the sun.

Khush Bakht via wordedarchive

#quotes #selections #fragments #excerpts #poetry #light academia #writer #sad quotes #mood quotes #poetic

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insane-eli · 3 months

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it is always the policy to speak the truth, unless, of course, you are an exceptionally good liar

_ jerome klapaka jerome

#it is always morally correct #to say the least #the truth untold #of course you are #an excerpt #good lines

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secrets-i-whisper-to-the-moon · 2 months

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Bilal Al-Shams, Sacrifice

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septemberkisses · 1 year

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— Carol Rifka Brunt in Tell The Wolves I'm Home

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bloodbending · 1 year

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someone please help me find that quote about how someone was overwhelmed with the weight of the world and their problems when they were physically alone, but that weight felt like nothing in the presence of a friend and good conversation

#i CANT FIND IT #i don’t even remember if it was from a book or what #edit:#greatest hits #i did not expect this to get notes i genuinely just couldn’t find this excerpt #im so glad so many people resonate

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lucidloving · 5 months

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Ruth Madievsky, All-Night Pharmacy // Suzanne Scanlon, Promising Young Women // Robin Roe, A List of Cages // Hayao Miyazaki, Kiki's Delivery Service // Susan Sontag, As Consciousness is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks, 1964-1980 // D. H. Lawrence, The Plumbed Serpent // Jennifer S. Cheng, "So We Must Meet Apart" // Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart // Alice Oseman, Radio Silence // Franz Kafka, Letters to Felice

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