#if a song does not make me feel like my organs are imploding i don't listen to it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notmuchofarolemodel · 4 years

Text

It's 4 a.m

I'm still awake

Thinking of all the

shit

I've done

I've been told to meditate

ican'tican'tican't

it's called 'loving kindness'

the practice.

I was supposed to start by saying kind things to myself

but it became clear that I couldn't do that

either.

I tried sending love to other people.

but I couldn't decide who

so many people deserve

Than I've given them.

does laying

out

these words

f make me cool? quirky?

f I'm a shallow self-absorbed kid.

r i play ukulele ffs

I HATE PEOPLE

i hate me

i read three books today. people think im so clever. they're dissapointed when they find out the truth

SMART PEOPLE SLEEP DAMNIT

i have two running commanteries

in my brain

One is where The other is a web

It's like I'm of confusion but

Being constantly. blindingly clear

Watched or Thoughts.

Interviewed

noise

Is it better to have no noise?

when i put the headphones on, i hear nothing. Is it nice? no. my head is echoing. Ah, early morning paranoia. WHO'S CALLING MY NAME? I rip them off. No noise. My clock ticks.

I breathe. Something Hits my window. (under no circumstances look up) but the space between the noise is

a g o n i z i n g l y SILENT.

I don't listen for the noise that could shatter the void. but they're invading my ears like caterpillars, if they liked inhabiting ears. someone's downstairs. Footsteps. They're going to kill us all. "WHO'S THERE?!" I scream. silently. nobody. I'm crazy.

I try to block out the thoughts, and memories of what I've said to hurt people.

OK WHY AREN'T I TIRED?

I'm too tired to get up

though. Not uncommon. still.

I CAN'T SLEEP

I wish I could write songs.

but I can only do whatever the hell these are.

you know when the teacher falls silent and you know you're in trouble? I hate that.

I hate answering teacher questions

I hate being scared

I DON'T LIKE VERY MUCH NOWADAYS

I have to do the things I hate though

mY hoMeWoRK lOOmS in front of me. like something stuck in a door hinge. I can't shut the damn door on it and enjoy myself.

because i 'NEED' to do the stupid stuff(not what a need is defined as in business studies) but I don't.

hypocrite

adj. (1)/ me

i dislike people

I'm not unhinged but I'm desperate for someone to view me as normal

c a n' t y o u s e e

I act like this as a defense?

If the weirdo does something weird it's because she's weird so it's not questioned, but if other people do the same thing, they're judged ad ridiculed and pitied and Hurt and i don't want that

how can I so crave attention from other people but want to be left alone at the same time?

I don't want to sleep

I don't like the

lying sTILL LIKE a log

thing. Too much thinking.

I can't channel them into anything

When I was little I loved dressing up girly and fixing things. Pretending to build bookshelves with my plastic power tools. building bookshelves with my dad. I'm not asked to help with that stuff anymore. then I'm called lazy? I wonder why?? Hypocrites. I wonder where I get it from.

I gained like [lots of] kilos in a year. Yes growing, and yes hips and shit, yes I was really skinny but still

f a t t y ✓

hm. I need a shower.

It's 5:05 a.m

my parents think I don't get enough sleep anyway. shit.

Last time this happened, they didn't believe me so it's fine.

I'm a tad dizzy.

bystander

The world is too awake

For me to sleep

but yet I can only watch it go by.

the moon. How bright

For a ball of cheese.

C O M E D Y

lockdown is more busy than non lockdown

I feel numb

Indifferent

numb

OW. I dislike emotions.

huh.

I wish people would stop commenting.

"you're eating too loud"

*Insert laugh here*

"stupid"

*pitying look*

ok maybe it's not just comments.

the little ones hurt the most

when they didn't expect you to care about something stupid. About you.

I really wanted this jumper (profile pic) but they're sold out and were limited edition. FB said there was one left.

This started as a poem thing.

funny.

My pencil is running out.

I wrote it originally in watercolor pencil.

A bit of water and "all gone"

they were my first words .

my logical thought takes over and tells me my irrational thoughts are stupid. And me. I can't tell them apart anymore.

P i L os OPHY

gotta make it into a joke as per usual

hehe I'm nocturnal. ♪

WOULDIWAS SHOOKSPEARED

i want my phone back now. It's 7 minutes past 5:05 a.m. I'm sick of thinking.

I need a haircut

I don't like acting anymore because I dislike thinking about my emotions and acting is trying to harness these emotions that I've got locked away

[NOTE: my organs could implode somehow for some reason somehow]

Emotion layered leftovers

1+2 constantly refreshed, not deep, happy sad angry etc.

They're the ones ppl see

3. Stuff. If I trust u, u get this mess

4. Lol idk

5+6 stagnant sad shit. Fermenting.

Haha my therapist would like my emotion kombucha. Yum. I'd like a therapist. Y O M

I'M DONE WRITING NOW

〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜

#i don't know #ramblings #all nighter #lol #a story #word dump #leave me alone but give me attention #i read iwbft so many times #im not actually insomniac #lockdown #tag spam #boredom #to be formatted.

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indomitablemegnolia · 5 years

Text

From on high, I look down, the world still moving; going through its petty pace. Life had left me behind so very long ago; sadly Madness asked me not to call, ironically. God, I miss them still. All I want to do is just fall; to let go, float out into nothing. Upon a time I thought it could not go on like this; as if the only way to breathe is perched on the edge of this universe. Moving forward seems impossible; not from lack of will, but time. Theoretically I know time is a fluid and as changeable as any other thing in this existence is, but isn't; does, but doesn't if only I had the power of theory, laws of physics, space and the probability of another day stands in defiance to my will. I was never one to want to go back, repeating the ills of living, every breath reminding me of the feckless nature of ... being. No this is not bravery, I know of no other choice, but when I wake, I breathe, but all I want to do is fall. Don't you ever do the same?

I have always been so particular about who was allowed in my space, understanding me was a duty; I would only allow to a select few ever constant souls, which number in small digits.

I take a horrible shuddering breath as that cold lonesome empty road feeling crept in. The breeze was light, the night was mellow, the only sound I could hear was a light hum of crickets and a dog barking in the distance. I lean far over the railing, I just leaned my head on my right shoulder and just listened. I fell in love for a moment with this changing season. Frozen winter nights gave way to something loving and horribly gentle; I fell in love with the softness on the breeze and the subtle change in the light because of the changing colours of the leaves. I smelled that haunting spice of organic decay on the soft breeze, and the same moment it pulled that soft feeling to the top of my senses, I banished the thought of spring, nauseated by the smell of cut grass; it triggered a terror.

A subtle warmth basked over me, the breeze kicked again, then his gentle breath as he spoke low, coaxing, "Ah, look at you," his hands rested on the rail, arms bracketing me in place; "wanting to fall again. I know; I know how you dream, sweet simple. I know you dream of having a home, a belonging; by the water. No expectations, no ambitions, no needs." He began to kiss my neck," ah Possibility, my heart swelled so much that it started to squeeze water from my eyes. "No need for having or making money... you know that is the next life and you don't quite belong there yet." Licking and kissing intent on the nerves of my neck.

I moan lightly, "So, you say."

Chuckling he bent me farther over the rail, "Some were born to run wild; you were born the wildest, so Wilde, always on the edge; you live from that edge, of heartbreak, of love, of loss on a neverending search for what? What are you looking for kitten? Syllables of words that no one knows; names of things no one know the words; tunes to songs no one remember; broken clocks; straightened springs; explanations to enigmas that people pondered for eons." Then as I was becoming used to the neck kisses. He took a deep breath, warm and damp behind my ear..

"I have always marveled at the motions of the people below;" I took a shivering breath ignoring my disappointment; I gasp as his hands had join this... distraction, "like mad little ants; where did they come from, where were they going, why; I wonder if any of them were in love?"

"Shhhh, Don't say anything. Just feel, you remember the last time I came; you were tied in emotional knots, much like now; wanting to fall and never land. All you wanted was delicious feelings; you lusted, thirsted to be experienced. I want to watch you revel in the feel of my hot breath against your ear; my fingers on your skin. Focus on the feelings." As if to highlight his words his hand slipped in past the hem of my shirt, teasing my belly; the other fondled idlely with my breast through my clothes; deliciously his mouth played at the cords on the side of my neck. The warm sun kissed my face, a cool breeze caressed my hair; his glorious hands gently rubbing and caressing, I roll my face skyward; my eyes soak in the perfect cerulean of the sky, light gray blue clouds with Opal edging floated like feathers on the breeze. Slowly skimming, one rather boldly audacious cloud subtly obstructed the sun, the edges refracting causing a tiny embrace of rainbow colors caught at just the right angle; his thumb grazed lightly over a welcoming wetness that had me panting.

“Come softly, darling. Come to me, stay…” Crooned that baritone; he always mocks his singing voice, I suppose, thinking that only tenors sound pleasant. I wrapped myself in his eroticly deep dark tone.

I grasped his hand smiling, guiding it, my will taking a mind of its own, I trace his hand over all the places that howl for Possibility's attention; suddenly I was Wilde, fulfilling all of my own little Wilde fantasies; I rock back against him. His stifled moan was enough to send me mindless; my soul following its own archaic rhythm; he gripped roughly stroking firmly. My body tensed, not yet fracturing, but it wasn't far; he laughed as he continued kissing, locking then as I tensed more he rocked me forward, biting lightly on the side of my neck.

Held tightly in his arms I floated high above the world, I fell, but just tumbled lightly on the air, gravity taking a holiday; "You see you couldn't fall, people fly when they take themselves lightly. It feels like I have waited for an eternity for your kiss.” He kissed my lips softly. “Soft, soft, oh soft,” his fingers like butterfly kisses made of nothing but air and intention, our conversation nothing but sighs and lips and space. His touch formed from an absence of substance, like lace and shadow, we hung together in that space between. Sweetly like the tendrils of the feathers tines, spaces shrink and grow with the rhythm of our breath, his fingers caress my every nerve, quieting my every fear, all becoming, blooming; the space between all things so relative, our skin only separated by thin layers of cotton and Xeno's paradox. All of those half spaces stripped away quickly, souls colliding. The distance between planets, the distance between atoms; all existence is counted in blessedly tiny, enormously infinitismal increments.

Figments and fragments of symbols form, the space between thoughts and action those seconds of hesitation and the faulty steps, those things that berate a mind as it slowly drifts to slumber. The motions and caresses, our practiced ideas and those mindless grappling movements. Letting our instincts our bodies take command; we use those lifetimes lived between breaths and heartbeats, the horrible eternity that lasts between a yes and a no; between heartbreak and hope. We ride high the tide of our true feelings, sensations, scents and flavours. I was smoke, I was air where his lips traced my neck, our bodies like water, their motion smooth natural. The moments of survival counted in milliseconds. We let ourselves drift mindlessly outside of those countable seconds of time and space; the motion of the world and the ebbing of the tide; planets spinning and suns imploding, in the end, it wasn’t softly nor quietly we reach that exploding plateau.

Those spaces all fitting into that one second as I watch soft white feathers dance on a breeze as the vision returns to my eyes. The space between his fingertips and my skin is equal to the distance between our bodies our hearts, between lips and kisses from lips that kisses can only dream of we drifted on a soft kiss. The space between my fingers and his cheek in this moment is everything; to me, it is a thing like hope, lived, survived, desired for and then what is not to be;this was what it meant to be experienced, it exists only in possibility. The feeling was a poem that starts as a lump in my throat, a feeling of warmth, of love or heartsickness and peril; the fear, the idea that this would end in broken hearted homesickness.

Then my only want would be for the two of us to meet somewhere by chance one day, passing on the street or sitting on a bus and for that second we would feel this moment again. That space, all time, like faith, like lace, like those dancing feathers, a substance of things hoped for. That space, the suggestion of things not seen, only felt… only in Possibility.

@keeper0fthestars @pedeka @writernotwaiting @iamhisgloriouspurpose @littletesla

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