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venniekocsis · 6 months

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🆓 My Gift To You 🥳

Hello, my sweet friends. First let me tell you how grateful I am for your presence in this space. I appreciate your time, your attention and your never-ending support. Please accept this free gift as a thank you. Starting today, through Monday 11/27/2023, my latest book, “Keeper of Backwards Men” is FREE for download! Download Here I hope you enjoy this book. It is a culled collection of…

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spicy-yuri-roll · 4 days

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A Requiem to the Home I Never Had

I remember your every detail:

Your chipping, grey frame--

Dressed in green, shabby shutters and shingles;

The smells of mowed grass and barbeque;

What the Family let the world see

... and what we didn't...

I still taste blood and dirt.

I still scream at night, dreaming...

Dreaming of you:

The house meant to be a home,

But never could be.

The cold arms of a father,

The dead eyes of a mother,

The lost tears of a brother.

The Family.

Lies we told ourselves and others,

As directed by a board of blind men:

"Dad loves me. Mom looks out for me. God will save me."

To cover a new bruise,

To disguise red eyes and missing teeth.

To hide the shame, the guilt and hurt.

The sham we believed held with faith?

A prison, to control the bloody sheep.

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sky-daddy-hates-me · 1 year

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A child struggling to express themselves,

asking questions and receiving only more questions in return,

each talk bringing more defilement

more sin

more trauma

more holes in their beliefs.

After years, they are no longer recognisable,

where once stood solid faith and blank servitude,

constellations now fill the empty, offering unique interpretations to each who sees them.

Truth has become a weapon of deception.

Love is a bargaining chip for compliance.

Faith is a rope necklace suspended from the ceiling, waiting for the day you wear it or take it down

Kindness is a privilege offered to a select few.

And help? That is a poison disguised as medicine.

Nothing holy remains of your system.

You claim the end will be a selective war,

but now I know there is no such thing.

War is not selective.

War is indiscriminate.

It is blanket fury and hatred.

It is suffering for all involved.

Your armeggedon is not a war,

it is fascist,

it is cruel,

it is a genocide.

Do not lecture me on kindness and love,

when you wish for the largest genocide in human history.

Do not tell me to be soft and gentle,

when you beg for war.

Do not ask me to forgive,

when your God will one day offer none.

An adult knowing how to express themselves,

questioning everything and receiving only more lies in return.

Each conversation bringing more injustice,

more confidence

more rage

more fuel to the fires of resistance.

#my poem #poetry #trauma poetry #ex jw #ex jehovah's witness #jehovah's witnesses #religious trauma #cult survivor #exjw #ex christian #ex cult #apostate #tw armeggedon #possible tw #tw suicide #mention

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sunflowersanddaydreamsingreen · 2 years

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TW OD, death, unalive reference

I wish your suicide hadn’t been so slow.

I want that for you

just as much as I wish you weren’t dead.

What kind of hell did you run through?

Did you laugh in the flames or did your heart break?

Were you having the time of your life or watching your life slip away?

I don’t even want to know anymore.

I got 3/4 of an answer last night at work and threw up in the parking lot.

I didn’t recognize your ghost anymore.

Do you see your reflection when you look at yourself over my shoulder

in my bathroom mirror?

I want to break it into twice as many pieces as my heart.

Instead I take a sharpie and write

“You are a goddess and you bow to no one”

across my forehead in the glass.

I can get it off later if I scrub hard enough,

if my brain convinces my heart of my mortality again.

I don’t know what I believe anymore.

That will happen when the dead sends you 27 sunflowers.

I don’t know how to live like this.

Everyone has a suggestion or a fix and none of them fit

the way the sunflowers in the tea pot on my altar do.

I took your picture down, moved it to the shrine of the dead

and lit a candle underneath.

I have heard that to blow out a flame is disrespectful,

but I did it anyway when I couldn’t bear to see your face in the light anymore.

What do you call it when you hit rock bottom and keep going?

I don’t want the answers but the questions linger on my tongue

like the orange market spice that I drink every day

just to feel you close to me again.

My stomach is the closest thing I have to a heart these days.

Maybe that’s why the moments that really hit me

make me feel like throwing up.

I want to purge the reality out of my body

but I don’t know how to write about anything other than death anymore.

I stand behind the cash register reciting your epithet to customers under my breath.

I sit next to the ice cooler where no one can see me and I cry.

I “fake it until I make it” through a 3 hour long panic attack.

I miss our old friends.

I want to hear your name from someone else’s mouth,

but when he walked up to buy his milk and bread

after three years of being forgotten,

it almost put me into the grave right next to you.

I raged for the rest of the night.

I cried in the candy isle where there are no cameras.

I screamed inside my lungs until there was no more air,

until I sat gasping on the floor next to a mug of dandelion tea

that I brewed to give me strength on my first day of my new job.

I wonder what the night would have been like if I just had water.

When we closed I scoured the internet for your records,

trying to learn why you were ordered back into the rooms.

Instead I found your middle name.

Did you see your reflection over my shoulder

as I wiped the mascara from my face in the men’s room.

I left my sharpie at home so the only thing I saw in the mirror was your shadow.

I don’t want to know anymore.

I don’t want to know where you went or who you went with.

I don’t want to know how many times you ODed before it killed you.

I don’t want to know what her name was or how long it took you to die.

I just want to know you’re ok now,

the Nick I held too long that last Thursday night.

If you’ve found your smile again,

send me another sunflower.

#12 steps #narcotics anonymous #overdose #cult #Cult survivor #cults #death #death poem #death poetry #love poem #love poetry #love quotes #love letter: my true feelings #love lessons #love letters

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breakingfenrirschains · 2 years

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8 Billion

For Nick

On night three you whispered in my ear

that I’d feel you again every time I took someone in my arms,

but I feel you closest when I fall in love.

At a stoplight on 62,

I see someone in their car jamming to Nickleback full blast

and I fall in love for the third time today.

I laugh as I try to not run into someone’s shopping cart

in an asile too small.

We lock eyes and I feel you

as I fall in love again.

I feel you most when I smile at strangers.

It reminds me of the way I felt when you smiled at me.

We are 8 billion now —

8 billion little heart drops,

8 billion love stories waiting to happen,

8 billion forevers,

and I feel my love for you

in each 1 in 8 billion connection.

I love you.

“Love,” not “loved.”

Never “loved.”

l will always love you in present tense —

as present as you are with me

when I hold my little niece

and remember how you never wanted children.

As present as you are with me

when I make my coffee too strong

or eat a vegan muffin.

I drink you in from my old coffee mug

purchased at the shop where you loved to work.

I imagine you fell in love with every orange market spice

and purple picker upper.

I will never stop speaking your name

and I will never say that I loved you,

always present tense

for the rest of our lives.

#12 steps #cults #cult survivor #narcotics anonymous #overdose #death poem #death poetry #death #love poem #love poetry #love letters #love letter: my true feelings #poems and quotes #poems and poetry #sad poems #deep poems #devotional poem #devotional poetry

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thegaymalefatale · 2 years

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Lost At Sea

I am as lost as a sail boat slowly sinking into the sea. Where in the sea it will meet it's home, into the dark, cold, unknown abyss. A graveyard.

A graveyard of souls that could not combat nor wrestle it's unpredictable, ferocious waters that utterly and ultimately consumed them.

My mind is lost only remembering memories I wish to forget. A sea of arsenic poisoning my mind, ever so softly and tenderly, as if the shadow is calling my name out like a lover, caressing me and comforting me with it's darkness.

A darkness that achieves it's pleasure by comforting you while sticking pins and needles behind your back. Something I have found as a comfort by now.

The pins and needles sticking out of my back like tombstones and they can reach towards the back of my scalp, the pain is numb and yet the sensation is warm.

For you have fabricated me into finding pain to be a solace, for pain to bring pleasure, for pain to be a romantic gesture.

For the pricking and the stinging to only be met with the expression of cheer and jubilation.

Perhaps that is why I feel lost, because without the pain, the feelings the pain brought me, without you, I find myself to be in hell itself, when in reality I was in hell but you masqueraded it as heaven. And I am in heaven, yet only see it as hell.

For those are the kind of mind games you sell. A sailboat lost at sea, a man lost in the world, in himself, in you.

#logans poems #edgar allen poe #emily dickinson #poetry #dark poetry #poetscommunity #poetsandwriters #poem #poemsdaily #poemsociety #sad poetry #lgbtq community #gay #lgbtq #lgbtpride #cult survivor #poets corner #poets on tumblr

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zeauxie · 30 days

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Found Some More Hatchetfield Lore!

I remembered that one of the Lang brothers said that Wiggly is based off of Cthulhu, so I decided to do something digging on a piece of shit author, H.P. Lovecraft and y’all… Okay, I don’t know if it counts as lore, but Hatchetfield is right under our noses.

tldr; at bottom

CW: H.P. Lovecraft’s writing is full of bigotry, and if you plan on reading it, prepare yourself. For example, there is an evil entity named Shub-Niggurath. Yeah.

I don’t like H.P. Lovecraft, nor do I enjoy his writing in general, so here are some things that people should look up if you want to find out Hatchetfield’s inspiration. More thoughts on why I cannot write about him are at the bottom.

Also! I do not look down or dislike people who enjoy H.P. Lovecraft’s writing and his creations, and would really love for people to continue to look into things I cannot. I hope my little notes help!

(I’ve linked the stories in pink!)

SPOILERS: Hatchetfield? I guess? The Cthulhu Mythos & The Dream Cycle.

Cthulhu Mythos:

Just read ‘The Call of Cthulhu’. Everything makes sense.

Miss Holloway is based off of a character named Horvath Blayne from ‘The Black Island, Being the Narrative of Horvath Blayne’.

Duke Keane is also taken from ‘The Black Island’.

The narrator of ‘The Call of Cthulhu’ is named Francis Wayland Thurston.

Professor Hidgens is based off of an art student named Henry who is known for being eccentric and living in solitude. (The Call of Cthulhu)

Emma Perkins is named after a ship called the Emma. The crew got into a battle with Cthulhu’s cult members, which resulted in the Emma having one survivor. (The Call of Cthulhu)

John MacNamara is based off of the police officer John Legrasse. (The Call of Cthulhu)

Willabella Muckwab resembles Lavinia Whateley, from ‘The Dunwich Horror’. She has a son, Wilbur Whateley (Wilbur Cross), whose father is the cosmic entity Yog-Sothoth (Wiggog Y’rath). Lavinia went missing on Halloween, and the assumption is that Wilbur killed her. 👀

The Black Book is the Necremonium.

There’s always professors somewhere.

The Dream Cycle:

LOL. The Dream Cycle is a collection of short stories surrounding dream cities. I honestly haven’t read anything about this other than brief stuff from the Wiki, but the connections are painfully obvious.

The word ‘oblivion’ is written in the Black Book. H.P. Lovecraft has a poem titled Ex Oblivione. The narrator sees a gate in his dreams and wants to get past it, but he can’t access it. He eventually does, though. Yikes. Read this post, picture Willabella Muckwab as the narrator for Ex Oblivione, and enjoy.

Bonus: Some of the covers of the magazine that published H.P. Lovecraft’s work (Weird Tales) are sprinkled throughout Hatchetfield.

“Pete, get behind me! I’ve got a gun.”

“Steph… it’s a ghost. I don’t think that’s gonna do any good.”

Rosary? Killer Track, much? Also, the art style for the Black Book kind of resembles this… huh.

-

Note: I had planned to read all of H.P. Lovecraft and the associated work, but the racism is too much for me. I can’t “separate the art from the artists”, especially when everything evil is so obviously and horrendously based on Black people, as well as other races. Again— Shub-Niggurath. Like, seriously?

It’s a huge bummer, because I have so many thoughts— like the implications behind Willabella Muckwab associated with Lavinia Whateley, and Wilbur Cross also being associated with Wilbur Whateley. So much is at our finger tips.

I’m still going to be writing other things, though!

I have more of the Black Book deciphered, so that’s exciting, especially since I actually got some stuff right in my first post. (It was looked at through a more religious lenses rather than an H.P. Lovecraft lenses, though.) BUT STILL. MY EYES HURTING FROM INTENSE SQUINTING SESSIONS WAS NOT FOR NAUGHT! And I know I state some of these things as if they’re facts, but they’re ‘probably based on’ stuff.

Alright. I’m off to read about physics, the concept of nothingness, and the æther in the name of theatre kid.

tldr; the Lang bros made a the TTRPG Call of Cthulhu homebrew and turned it into musicals.

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desmondsprettyface · 9 months

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Okay here's what I can't stop thinking about tho- and I genuinely can't decide if this is genius and deep or just Riverdale embracing its core wilful ignorance of its own plots-

the WHOLE finale was Betty and Jug reminiscing on 'the way it used to be,' specifically referring to the love triangles, the football, the milkshakes, and the general childhood innocence that makes high school drama seem so important. BUT THAT'S NOT AT ALL WHAT HAPPENED AT ANY POINT IN RIVERDALE!! 👏THAT'S👏 WHAT👏 HAPPENED👏 IN 👏THE 👏COMIC👏 THAT THIS ADAPTATION IMMEDIATELY AND WILDLY DEPARTED FROM AT EVERY TURN!?!!

So the question is: What life is this finale actually reminiscing on? When Betty says "I wish I could go back to the way it was..." is she really talking about the first season of Riverdale? OR is she talking about the genuinely innocent character she was in Archie Comics before Riverdale made her a trauma-stigmata serial killer cult member FBI agent kidnapping survivor sex addict?

The generous reading is that the real finale of "Pop's Eternal Narrative Heaven" is not that they're trapped in Riverdale forever. It's that they finally escaped Riverdale (CW 2017) and made it to the wholesome world of Archie (Pep Comics 1941).

It's specifically in the way Jughead talks about this projected simplicity especially around Pop's that just never existed. You're reminded of that when Jason opens the door to the idyllic world as if to say, "Welcome back! Remember when everything was fun and simple? Because I don't! Because I was already murdered by my father by episode 1! This has never been real in Riverdale!" He's the gatekeeper to the original Pep Comics world not just because he was the first to die in Riverdale, but because his character is more anchored to the carefree milkshake plots of the early 80s issues from whence he originated.

Of course modern Archie Comics have developed along wildly diverse and often dark plot lines, as any comic book still going after 60+ years would. In that sense, Riverdale isn't that far off much of its more recent source texts. But Riverdale has made a point of cordoning the dark plots off from the characters' experience and recollection as the series wound to a close. This disconnect is evident in the unsettling way they all casually chuckle at the horrific details in Archie's poem about the stuff that actually did happen to them. It's like he's recounting something portrayed about them in a comic book instead of the other way around.

I interpret Archie's poem as a kind of metatheatrical catalyst for the Riverdale characters to leave those adapted selves behind as a story about them instead of their "real lives" so they can return to their core selves as Pep Comics characters.

Which perhaps makes the whole thing one big metaphor about post-traumatic dissociation? Anyway, ending on Jughead at the typewriter as he places them all back into their original comic book diegesis fulfills the dream he was deprived of when no one met him at Pop's after graduation. In a show ostensibly about the Archie Comics but which immediately skipped past the low stakes wholesome high school drama straight into murder, it took a main character removing himself from the narrative and rewriting it himself to get them all to the 'real' Pop's where which milkshake they're going to have really is the most pressing matter. In that sense, Riverdale has traced a reverse trajectory in adaptation where characters with little more than hair color, pearls, and a silly hat anchoring them to their namesakes spend 7 seasons working their way back to their source text.

#riverdale #archie #pep comics #don't mind me #analyzing the finale

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radiostatic166 · 7 months

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🧠About Us🧠

This a blog with poems, writings, vents, and daily life things we go through. Our main topics will be about our life with HC-DID (Disossotive Identity Disorder). We are a Polyfragmented system and a RAMCOA survivor.

We are professionally diagnosed with Autism, HC-DID, Tourettes, and other disorders.

We use over It/It's pronouns

We are disabled, physically and mentally

CW for more talk about RAMCOA and our personal DNI and Fine to interact

RAMCOA is Ritual Abuse. Mind Control. and Organized Abuse.

🧠ORGANISED – involves a number of people doing something together in a pre-planned and/or structured way rather than acting alone

🫀RITUAL – rite, ceremony or (pseudo-] religious service which involves a series of actions performed in a fixed order and/or at certain times; something that is done in the same way whenever a particular situation occurs.

🫁ABUSE – cruel and violent treatment of a person or animal; use of rude, insulting or denigrating words and actions; use of something (e.g. object, animal, power, ritual, capacity to dissociate) in a deliberately harmful or terrorising way; for the purpose of gaining and maintaining control over the victim for the perpetrators’ gratification or protection.

~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~

Interact if....

DID/OSDD Systems

RAMCOA Survivors

Cult Survivors

Neurdivergent People

LGBTQIA+ community

Xeno/Neo users

Furries

Therians

Otherkin/Otherhearted

Autistic

DNI Interact if....

Homophobic/Transphobic

Anti-Neo/Xeno

Proshipper/ComShipper/etc.

Pro anything other than Traumagenic (such as endo, tupic, will, etc.)

Radqueer

Thinking not wanting to fully fuse is "Anti-Recovery"

Forcing Religious practices

IRL/Kins that use system terms

People who believe introjects are same as sourse

Uses disabilities as an excuse to do bad things (basically blames bad things they do on their disability)

P3dos, Zøøs, MAPs, etc

Racists

Fatphobic

#ramcoa #hc did #ramcoa system #ramcoa poem #ramcoa poems #did osdd #did system #actually autistic #blog #vent page

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euphorial-docx · 8 days

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If all your regulus and all your James had to fight to the death, who would win? Like which regulus would emerge victorious and which James? And how would they win?

oh definitely b&w james and regulus would DEMOLISH all the other versions of them (at least out of my posted fics!)

b&w jegulus are survivors of a zombie apocalypse, and additionally james was a part of a revolutionary group and regulus was in a murder cult for his whole life, so they would sweep the floor together.

like what’s opev regulus gonna do against b&w regulus? read a poem at him? all the other versions of jegulus will be dead in seconds if they face off against b&w jegulus lmao.

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venniekocsis · 1 year

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Roses and Alabaster

“Stuck.That’s what they say.They’re stuck inThe muck of yesterday,And I am familiarWith the frozen moment. It’s an exhausted exhaleWhere the knees bend,And we pretend we’veGot this, but reallyWe are head downWondering if theNext step will beThe end of it. It is movementCreated by the brain,But the thoughts,like freezing rain,Make the mind refrainFrom dancing.Instead, it whispersThe ugliest…

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#cult survivor #cult survivor poetry #cults #poem #poems by cult survivors #poems by vennie kocsis #poet #poetess #poetic #poetry #poetry by cult survivors #poetry by vennie kocsis #Vennie Kocsis poetry #writer #writing #writing therapy

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lycanlovingvampyre · 1 year

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S5 Act III Finale Trailer Relisten

So basically, act I and II ended with Jon and Martin finding a survivor of the Archives crew - I don't count Daisy cause she was already lost :( Act I ended with them finding Basira. Act II ended with them finding Georgie and Melanie. (So, just in general before I get into the trailer.)

ARUN: "You know the path that they walk. No harm can come to them." God, this Arun character drives me up the walls! I do feel Martin so much when they clash... Or Jon, though Arun seems to be more intimidated by him.

CELIA: "I keep hearing things. Something’s going on up there. And I don’t like it." UNNAMED: "I’ve heard it too. The city’s excited about something." I've wondered about Georgie and Melanie knowing about Jon being in town in my post for MAG 189. So at least there seems to be an audible “uproar”. More chattering? More movement perhaps? Faster movement?

LAVERNE: "Not just up there…" ARUN: "Laverne?" And with this one we have heard the names of each character (who got one)! When Arun is done with the poem, Laverne says "Thank you, Arun. That was lovely." And when Celia only hums about that statement, Arun asks "E-Everything alright, Celia?"

ARUN: "Have faith! The prophets shall protect us." Oh fuck off... Have I mentioned that I hate cult fanatics who blabber delusional nonsense...?

LAVERNE: "Look at it this way. The world’s already ended… how much worse can it be?" Well, for starters all of you could go back to your hellscapes? Also nooo, this is never a good sign in fiction!

Also generally, more of vague horror in this one! The magazine? We don’t know what it was, but everyone reacted poorly to it being brought up again. Or apparently there being creatures they just call “watchers”, guarding a set of stairs. And there are more of them coming. 4 were there for sure, one more perhaps? Laverne didn’t see everything, so there might be even more! Also the stairs, where will they lead to?! OOooooOOooo!

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #tma s5 act iii finale trailer #what a tag...#tma #tma spoilers

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ex-cogtfi · 5 months

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To close 2023, we're sharing this heartfelt poem by COG-TFI survivor E.S. @poetry_catharsis that traces the impact of psychological and emotional abuse inflicted upon children, the devastating repercussions, and the reclaiming and unlearning we choose as survivors. The choices we make each day to choose self love and freedom, to rewrite the messages ingrained in us. To take back what was stolen from us before we were born.

May 2024 be a year of continued healing and awareness, as we support survivors in telling their stories and healing, and shine a light on cults and cultic abuse.

#cogtfisurvivors #thefamilyinternational #childrenofgod #davidberg #karenzerby #cultsurvivor #coercivecontrol #emotionalabuse #childabuse #psychologicalabuse #trauma #traumarecovery #poetry #poem #cult #igotout

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deseretgear · 1 year

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i just saw that you were involved in that historical serbian pigeon drama movie post as the space station with the french fake wife guy and i gotta ask, which movies would you recommend i watch that evokes similar emotions such as those in the post, much love 🌸

Off the top of my head: Aniara: Swedish film adaptation of an epic sci-fi poem written in 1956 about a spaceship full of refugees on a few weeks trip to the moon that then goes wildly off course after running into space debris, turning what was supposed to be a few weeks of travel into a horrifically longer space voyage. Extremely Fucking Depressing, Involves a mind reading machine, cults, and illusions projected onto space itself. Absolutely loved it A Man Escaped: a 1956 (wow huh made the same year the original Aniara poem was written cool) french black and white film about a revolutionary attempting to escape a French prison. Has a lot of detail and slow, methodical pacing that really puts you into the agonizing moments of slowly sawing through dividers and listening for guards, etc. Really fun mounting tension and escape plan Savageland (2015) a horror movie told documentary style from someone putting together claims, records, and evidence about a gruesome massacre with only one survivor, its main suspect and also recorder: a photographer who's grisly, disturbing black and white photographs slowly put together a chilling take on a classic horror movie scenario. If you have the stones for a horror film, go in blind. Finally this one isn't really a movie but it's ABOUT movies: the videogame Immortality! It's a 2022 interactive film video game developed by Sam Barlow, doesn't require any complicated gaming ability really. The game mostly involves clicking through and watching live acted scenes (out of order) of a vanished actressed movie career. Some scenes are final shots, others are rehearsals, bloopers, incomplete, etc. They span 3 movies and the actresses life-up to her mysterious disappearance. Be prepared for dark themes of violence and sexual assault in this one. The real horror of the story comes as you slowly explore each scene in detail, putting together the full story at your own pace and in your own order. You'll know when you've discovered The Twist though.

#recs #this was fun more people should ask me to recommend shit

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exoflash · 1 year

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I'm not going to reblog it right now as I don't want to accidentally trigger anyone, but a friend of mine reblogged a post about how Evangelical Christianity (i am specifying evangelicals- there's a lot of denominations and i'm sure plenty are chill. But this post is about Evangelicals specifically.) is like a death cult + we need more sympathy for survivors and... yeah. I'll put this under a readmore to not clog anyone's feed.

One thing I feel we don't talk about enough is growing UP like that.

I grew up believing the apocalypse would happen before I hit 18. I didn't think I'd be able to live a full life like my parents and grandparents before me. I would bring this up and people would tell me this was a good thing- that I wouldn't have to live the remainder of my life in such a "broken" world. Seeing the beauty in everything was practically trained out of me by the church.

I remember first getting into Doctor Who when I was about 12. My Grandpa (who is an agnostic, I feel is worth noting,) really loves sci-fi. He asked if I wanted to watch a new show with him, and I agreed. And as you can tell, I love it to this day.

Using media as escapism really became prevalent in my early teens. I remember being 14 and when friends or family would start talking about how "all Christians are gonna get microchipped or executed for not worshipping the antichrist! The world will be like 1984! It'll end in nuclear war!" I would imagine the Doctor taking me into the future- showing me that i was going to be okay, everything was going to be okay. The sun still shines and the world still spins. No demon vs angel warfare here.

I remember being 16-17 and not caring about graduation, not even caring if something awful happened to me, because the world was ending, right? Better a car crash than decapitated for being a "Christian". I say that in parentheses for a reason, because people who use this horrible image to manipulate others are NOT like Christ.

I remember when covid hit. I had largely detangled myself from all that. I thought it was over. The pandemic brought so much trauma crashing back down upon me. The emotions of "what if they were right? What if you really WERE led astray...? What if the devil did this to you?"

The worst of the pandemic finally passed. Everything was safe.

To this day, I still get those emotions again whenever i see some news article or hear about some kind of war. Frankly, i don't know if they'll ever go away. But what i've learned- it doesn't matter, what happens to me. I don't say that in a pessimistic sense like i once did. I've learned that regardless of anything that happens- i can live for myself and my loved ones. I can make even the slightest difference. If i can make just one person smile- in my ENTIRE life- it would be incredibly worth it.

Maybe I'll write a poem about all this. I dunno. This is all just late night ramblings and spilled ink. Have a good night.

#brightts ramblings #okay to reblog #sui ideation tw #armaggedon tw #end times tw #further context: im not anti-religion. im a progressive christian #im just anti evangelical

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breakingfenrirschains · 2 years

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TW death, overdose

Maybe

For Nick

Maybe…

Maybe I imagined it.

Maybe I’ve been alone this whole time

trading conversation with a ghost

over black coffee

that I made too strong.

Maybe I was wrong,

and maybe I was right.

Grieving you feels like losing my mind;

I guess I lost it,

like a lifetime movie where the sensitive brunette

never speaks again

and drinks herself to death,

except I couldn’t dishonor you

by going out with the same weapon.

Maybe…

Maybe it was real.

Ghosts make it hard to mourn.

You’re with me and you’re not with me.

You’re here but you’re gone.

Your ghost keeps me up at night

writing poetry instead of sleeping

because I lost you twice —

How dare you.

I guess I’m still mad.

Guess a small part of me

still blames the addict

for their own death.

Maybe it’s not even true.

Maybe it’s all *too* real,

too real to keep me

from going straight home

from therapy yesterday.

Too real like

I don’t have that grace period

first thing in the morning,

the deep breath before the nightmare sinks in.

Too real like the first thought in my head

whenever I wake up is your name

and the way it felt on my tongue

when I had someone to speak it to.

Maybe there’s nothing left to say —

There’s no one left to tell anyway

because I refuse to sit in a circle

drinking coffee on your grave.

#12 steps #narcotics anonymous #cult #ex cult #cult survivor #overdose #death poetry #death poem #love poem #love poetry #love letter #love letter: my true feelings

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