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#excerpt from a book i’ll never write
yakultstan · 2 months
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our salted tears remind us the human condition is rooted in the oceans, the lakes and the soil
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lost-in-time-marie · 6 days
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God Lives With The Ants
When I was younger, I would lay under a maple tree in the backyard. I’d stare up at the leaves and watch them wither from a bright green into orange and red and fall all around my head. I’d talk with the wind that danced and sang as it rushed through the trees and played with my hair. I’d observe the ants as they went about their business in the dirt next to me. So small, and yet we occupied the same space, but our perspectives couldn’t be more different. Our futures intimately linked and yet I found myself wondering if this crawling little insect could sense my gaze. I wondered what great giant’s ribcage laid beside my whole infinite universe, small enough to be held on the tip of their finger. And suddenly, for the first time, I believed that colossus did gaze at my universe, occupying its same space, but somehow so small and impossibly different, and it would get misty eyed pondering the complexity and beauty of our entangled existences, and it would hope things for all us and then mourn those hopes as they changed and evolved over the years, entirely beyond anyone’s reach at this point.
~K.
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feltpoetry · 2 years
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“today i saw you, i didn’t feel the butterflies and i didn’t want to kiss you. i just saw you and you were like every boy in the world, and i swear it was your fault”
- excerpt from a book i’ll never write #9
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abbigailnichole · 1 year
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"How do you move on?" I asked the darkness.
Grief, l've learned, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. Grief is just love with no place to go. Sometimes, the bad things that happen to us are not valuable lessons. Nothing can be extracted from them, there are no positives to some things. It is okay to feel grief for what happened to you, to mourn what you have lost, to know it was not fair. Sometimes, we can only let go of the past by grieving it, by admitting it was not okay, but now that we are dealing with the pain, sometimes you can't move on.
-but we can hope for a better future
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Even after 23 years, I’ve still never quite learned the difference between putting in effort to continue something and the desperation of holding onto something that wasn’t meant to be.
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wannawriteyouabook · 3 months
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You called me loyal and all I could think was "I am not a dog."
I'm not a dog
I'm not a dog
I'm not a dog
I am not a dog
I am not a dog
But then, why do I keep coming back to you like I am
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gracefullyinkful · 5 months
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I used to be so passionate. Words used to come so easily. And in the grief…the despair…words have failed me. Somewhere within myself I am screaming, begging, clawing at the walls to get out and yet, here I am…a faux version of myself. Someone I don’t recognize. Thinking that if I can manifest a difference by thinking about it hard enough, things will change. Sitting on my couch, waiting for someone to take my hand and show me the way out. But when people show up, they’re wide eyed and starved; desperate for relief themselves.
- c-ptsd series: I don’t think anyone else knows the way either
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issapia · 6 months
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Then There Was You
Months ago I was convinced that I no longer wanted any form of romantic relationship with anyone ever again.
Then there was you.
You came into my life the way the sunrise comes over the horizon. Slowly, lighting all the dark corners. Before I realized it my world was lit up, I saw blue skies for the first time in what felt like an eternity. I was able to find silver linings in all the awfulness of day to day life.
I so easily believe every word that escapes your lips and I don’t feel scared. I don’t have to worry that one day you will just be gone.
I feel held by you.
I feel seen by you.
I feel heard by you.
I didn’t believe I’d ever feel those emotions again.
You feel like the first warm morning after a cold winter.
You feel like the relief of my second parachute when the first one had failed me.
You feel like the safety of watching a tidal wave from high ground.
You came and you stayed…
You’re slowly fixing something you didn’t destroy and for that I will be forever grateful.
- I love you, please always stay
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princessofmistake · 2 years
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“I am destroying myself so other people can’t,” she said, “and it’s the worst kind of control but it’s the only form I know.”
Mi distruggo così le altre persone non possano farlo. Ed è il peggior tipo di controllo, ma è l'unica forma che conosco.
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sofiasrebellion · 2 years
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I don’t know how to tell this to you. It may be I have spoken of it already in different words. Some amalgamations of words have the same meaning as others. I dreamed of the children I used to teach. I dreamed that I was back there in the building with the green apple tree in the back and they were around me and I was showing them the map, the green hills, how to read them apart from the mountains, the blue river snaking up and down, encircling a city or else a town, the seaside climbing down the path we stroked upriver, how really this ocean and that sea all went around and around, the big blue wave we lived upon in our houses of stone, wood, and mud. I told them how the land beneath us shifted, and even the land beneath the ocean, oh yes there's land down there too, how the center of the earth was a blazing rock as hot as the sun, and above a fiery current of magma, sloshing thick, and so bright you could almost believe it was the sunset melted. I told them how the pressure, like anger, or sadness, builds up and up, so much that it pushes the land, strains and strains until mountain forms and it shakes the earth and the china in their showcases. Then I tell them that sometimes they can’t find a way out, all that emotional magma, and it goes up through a volcano and shoots light and soot into the sky, it sputters and the lava flows like hot, angry tearfalls down its side, and sometimes it's in the middle of the ocean, and an island is born. 
I like to think about that island in the middle of the water with no inhabitants. It learns to wait. Eventually vegetation sprouts, I think birds would be the first to arrive, and they are welcome friends. But I think of my own self and what waiting has done to me. Waiting has instilled quiet in me. I am not a person who enjoys self sufficiency, but the waiting taught me that there are some things no one can give you. It makes me sad even now. When that island receives its inhabitants, it blossoms. But it was a volcano first, then a small rock in the swirling water, and then a barren rock sunning atop the sea. All that time alone, all that time learning to live with small pleasures. A lichen attaching itself, the ripples of a whale just barely reaching it, the sun coming up earlier, the small rock growing a little bigger. I wonder if it sees an eclipse for the first time all by itself. I would be scared. I would wonder if the earth was going to die before I had my first inhabitant. Then it would pass and the next day I would appreciate the evening colors a little more. I’d look at the indigo sky and realize there are many stars I can see which can’t see me back and I love them very much and they don’t know. I bet nothing lives in the sun and the sun doesn’t know I love to sit in it after I wash. The sun doesn’t know. There is something thrillingly sad about that. 
I dreamed I was telling the children I was coming back to show them so many things they would love, slowly, slowly. How the maps would be etched into their memory, and when they read about all those places, the Mediterranean and the South China Sea, the Aral Sea and the Great Lake, the Himalayas and the Appalachians, Peru on the long coast, the Swahili by the sea, the three Gorges in China, the Amazon and the Sahara nestled in the hearts of two continents, the Nile flowing down the length of upper and lower Egypt, flooding the banks as the Ganges do the Indian plains, the Bay of Bengal touching the longest beach, I told them how they would be pictures projected behind their eyes when they closed them to sleep. I was only half kidding; the other part of me was hoping they’d come to love it as much as I did. 
dreaming of the island, s.p
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yakultstan · 2 months
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I fear coming face to face with someone I once built a home in my house was burned down
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And even if it didn't last long, you brought some light to my dark world and put my mind at ease even for a split second.. but the aftermath of you is what lingers and lingers leaving my mind more of a mess than the start.
It's the feeling of not being good enough that fills me once again.
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lost-in-time-marie · 11 days
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All My Unsatisfied Cravings
Most people don’t know what it’s like to want things. Not really. Not deeply. With your whole heart and soul. You’re willing to bleed for it, push for it, give for it.
Oh sure, people know all about coveting. Humans do this the best, perhaps. We covet what we see everyday. This life, this hair, this face, this position, this power, this person.
My body doesn’t know what to do with all its wanting. I hurt and mourn and long for things I’ve never seen or heard or tasted. I’m starving and I’m craving and I’m standing in the middle of the biggest buffet, more than my eyes can hold, and my favorite food is missing. My mouth turns sour at every dish. I can’t tell you what it is, what ingredients it requires, if you bake or sauté it. But I could pick out the smell, in this room full of every delicious mouth watering meal, and I’ll recognize it when it’s finally put on the plate in front of me.
~K.
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feltpoetry · 2 years
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“after he broke my heart, i began writing about him. i wrote and i wrote and i’ve described him as a hurricane, a drug, my universe. now that i’ve moved on, i don’t see him in that way anymore. he wasn’t anything above ordinary, he was just a boy. a boy who didn’t want to be with me and that’s that.”
excerpt from a book i’ll never write #781
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abbigailnichole · 1 year
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I started writing poetry to numb the pain and stopped when it came back.
Trauma has a crazy way of numbing you to things. I'm still living in the aftermath yearning for the life we could have had together. How do I love myself, even after all the ways I failed you? The ways I failed myself..
Sometimes I don't think I know how to live without chaos.
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awhisperamongechoes · 2 years
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What they will not tell you, is that the 20's can either be the happiest years of your life or the loneliest years of your life.
moving to a different state has made me free, and yet there are nights where I wish for warmth other than my own. 
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