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⌇вяσкєη ωιη∂σωs, sтαιηє∂ glαss sкιη⌇
message 9951:
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[deleted user]
(new)
Jun 20, 2017 05:48AM
wait oh God shit
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the power outage was caused by a crash at the power pole
and my grandpa lives right by the power pole.
and he's always drunk that time of night.
So I'm home alone with a baby??
Wow, this is sketchy as helll
Have I already said that my boyfriend may or may not be bullet proof?
*laughs hysterically cuz I used to think I was wicked talented*
Come on, don't start shit. we like here.
Pls go away for a few more hours?
This is why we don't make friends, Kass.
I suck at life, Paige. Fo real 😂😂😂
Should I post my 12 am over sharing writing?
JOKES. I don't care and I'm gonna post them anyway.
Sometimes each breath slams into my lungs, like each muscular sacks of air is a locker room, filled with teenage boys having a towel whipping contest. These days, all I want is for the towel fight to go away. Even if it means that there's nothing going on there at all. Other days, breathing isn't even labor. In fact, it's almost energizing. These days, it's not even a worry to breathe. Each breath is a reminder that I'm alive and I feel and nothing can ever stop me. I pray that eventually those days will become a consistent. It will be easy and energizing to breath. But right now, more days than any, I'm in the middle. Each breath is a gentle labor, not fantastic and not beautiful. There's never been anything beautiful about this. It's just simple breaths. But with each breath, there's a reason. Him. I promised him I would never leave. I promised you. And I'd rather have welts inside my lungs from each whip of the towel than to know I hurt you. To know how lost you are. You are my reason to breathe on the bad days. You are the reason I can breathe so freely on the good. You are the reason air still fills my lungs, and the reason I'm not begging it to stop.
These are both like super depression and super uplifting but every single one just happens to have more of one vibe or the other 😂😂
"But what's on your mind?"
Me? I know. I talk about myself too much anyway and I've said to much about how I feel, but I think that's a loaded question. Are you seeking the whole truth not just the shadow of it that tumbles of my lips?
What's on my mind?
I'm desperately confused. Confused and terrified for the moments when things change. Answer me this, what happens when we change?
What's on my mind?
I don't think you really understand how complex and contradicting my mind really is. Because my confidence is a mess of a beautiful ugly girl, who is articulate with words she doesn't even understand. I'm a girl who's terrified of failure and wants to work to succeed but can't even get out of bed in the morning.
What's on my mind?
Him. He's been on my mind for two years. He takes my human paradox of myself and the Rubik's cube that is my mind and he used a gentle touch, and a close precision, solving the paradox.
What's on my mind?
What happens when he gets the Rubik's cube solved just enough to realize that some colors only have 8 instead of 9 and my mind can't be solved?
What's on my mind?
People leave for simplicity. People leave for complexity. People leave because of the diseases of my head. People leave because that fucking Rubik's cube is never going to be solved. Even if you paint over
the colors, making them match up... It will spin and spin and the paint will flake off and the paradox returns.
What's on my mind?
"Oh, not much. Just wondering when I get to see him again."
Me? I know. I talk about myself too much anyway and I've said to much about how I feel, but I think that's a loaded question. Are you seeking the whole truth not just the shadow of it that tumbles of my lips?
What's on my mind?
I'm desperately confused. Confused and terrified for the moments when things change. Answer me this, what happens when we change?
What's on my mind?
I don't think you really understand how complex and contradicting my mind really is. Because my confidence is a mess of a beautiful ugly girl, who is articulate with words she doesn't even understand. I'm a girl who's terrified of failure and wants to work to succeed but can't even get out of bed in the morning.
What's on my mind?
Him. He's been on my mind for two years. He takes my human paradox of myself and the Rubik's cube that is my mind and he used a gentle touch, and a close precision, solving the paradox.
What's on my mind?
What happens when he gets the Rubik's cube solved just enough to realize that some colors only have 8 instead of 9 and my mind can't be solved?
What's on my mind?
People leave for simplicity. People leave for complexity. People leave because of the diseases of my head. People leave because that fucking Rubik's cube is never going to be solved. Even if you paint over
the colors, making them match up... It will spin and spin and the paint will flake off and the paradox returns.
What's on my mind?
"Oh, not much. Just wondering when I get to see him again."
She woke up, her breath hitched in her tightening chest. It wasn't the first time it had happened. She leaned over the bed, choking on her stiff ball of oxygen, gagging, praying for her lungs to push out the nightmares and to fill once more with the quiet night air.
Tears streamed down her face, coughing up the air. Each breath hitched the same way, and she began to wonder if the nightmares were the only thing in the air.
She heard the bed creak next to her, and slowly his hand slid into hers.
"Kass, hey there babygirl. Hey," his breath words were there to soothe her breathing, always prepared to be her rock.
She choked, grasping for words, each attempt seeming to peel another layer from her throat. "I-I-"
"Shhh...." he rubbed her back with the hand that wasn't locked in hers. "You don't need to say anything... Just breathe..."
He knew his love would never cure her. Love doesn't cure mental illnesses. What he did know is that it helped. It was the closest they could get.
"Just breathe..." he whispered. "In... out.... in... out..."
Slowly, her breaths hitched less and less. Two words, though mutilated by her tongue managed to escape. "I-I-I-I'm I-I'm I'm so- I-I'm sorry...." she hiccuped.
"Sh... no... don't be...." he rubbed her skin, pressing his lips into her shoulder. "Deep breaths..."
"I-I-I didn-"
"Shh, baby girl. Stop talking," he whispered. She could feel his chest moving against her back, and slowly turned to face him.
Curling into a small ball, she laid on his lap, against his chest. Her hands traced his forearm.
She had rolls in her stomach, thighs covered in stretch marks, and his ribs poked out a little more than some people's, but he had them to. They weren't born with these white lines on their skin. They were messes. They were imperfect. And maybe that was just what made them perfect.
To him, she was a goddess. She was beauty, grace, and everything anyone could want.
She didn't see it, even though she wasn't so filled with self hate as before.
To her, he was everything anyone could want. His arms made her safe and his breath was the most comforting sound in universe. He was so damn attractive too...
"Shiv?" she whispered, her fingers tracing his scars.
"Yes, Kassi?" he responded, his breath running along her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you," she mumbled, shame in her voice. She desperately wanted to be more independent, but she desperately relied on him.
He chuckled slightly. "You could wake me up every night, and you'd always be worth it."
They laid there like that until the gentle orange and pink fingertips of the sunrise slid into their window, brushing their scarred and marked up imperfect skin. Imperfect to the sky, but perfect to each other.
Tears streamed down her face, coughing up the air. Each breath hitched the same way, and she began to wonder if the nightmares were the only thing in the air.
She heard the bed creak next to her, and slowly his hand slid into hers.
"Kass, hey there babygirl. Hey," his breath words were there to soothe her breathing, always prepared to be her rock.
She choked, grasping for words, each attempt seeming to peel another layer from her throat. "I-I-"
"Shhh...." he rubbed her back with the hand that wasn't locked in hers. "You don't need to say anything... Just breathe..."
He knew his love would never cure her. Love doesn't cure mental illnesses. What he did know is that it helped. It was the closest they could get.
"Just breathe..." he whispered. "In... out.... in... out..."
Slowly, her breaths hitched less and less. Two words, though mutilated by her tongue managed to escape. "I-I-I-I'm I-I'm I'm so- I-I'm sorry...." she hiccuped.
"Sh... no... don't be...." he rubbed her skin, pressing his lips into her shoulder. "Deep breaths..."
"I-I-I didn-"
"Shh, baby girl. Stop talking," he whispered. She could feel his chest moving against her back, and slowly turned to face him.
Curling into a small ball, she laid on his lap, against his chest. Her hands traced his forearm.
She had rolls in her stomach, thighs covered in stretch marks, and his ribs poked out a little more than some people's, but he had them to. They weren't born with these white lines on their skin. They were messes. They were imperfect. And maybe that was just what made them perfect.
To him, she was a goddess. She was beauty, grace, and everything anyone could want.
She didn't see it, even though she wasn't so filled with self hate as before.
To her, he was everything anyone could want. His arms made her safe and his breath was the most comforting sound in universe. He was so damn attractive too...
"Shiv?" she whispered, her fingers tracing his scars.
"Yes, Kassi?" he responded, his breath running along her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you," she mumbled, shame in her voice. She desperately wanted to be more independent, but she desperately relied on him.
He chuckled slightly. "You could wake me up every night, and you'd always be worth it."
They laid there like that until the gentle orange and pink fingertips of the sunrise slid into their window, brushing their scarred and marked up imperfect skin. Imperfect to the sky, but perfect to each other.
Rolling over in bed, her eyes met his sleeping face. The sun was trying to slither it's way through closed blinds, partially unsuccessfully. She smiled, wondering how she got so lucky to be with someone so perfect.
Quietly, gently, each movement as swift as fox, she slid off the bed Each stride, silenced by fuzzy and colorful socks, led her into the bathroom.
Slowly she examined herself in the mirror. Her mousy brown hair had grown out natural over the past few years, and it was currently a mess of bedhead.
She stretched out the baggy tee she wore to bed. She had always told him that she wouldn't be as sexy as a skinny girl in a baggy shirt and undies, but he never seemed to care.
Her hand reached out to the cold glass, touching her reflection. That all it would ever be. A reflection. What was it hat she really looked like to him? She knew she'd never really see it, but she cringed at the thought.
Her footsteps tread through the bedroom, in what she thought was silent. Sliding by the bed, making her way to the door, two arms wrapped around her waist and stomach, pulling her in. "Where could you possibly going at this early hour, teddy bear?"
She giggled, climbing into bed with him. "Well I was going to make you breakfast in bed."
His gentle lips brushed hers. "I have you, baby girl. Who needs breakfast?"
Quietly, gently, each movement as swift as fox, she slid off the bed Each stride, silenced by fuzzy and colorful socks, led her into the bathroom.
Slowly she examined herself in the mirror. Her mousy brown hair had grown out natural over the past few years, and it was currently a mess of bedhead.
She stretched out the baggy tee she wore to bed. She had always told him that she wouldn't be as sexy as a skinny girl in a baggy shirt and undies, but he never seemed to care.
Her hand reached out to the cold glass, touching her reflection. That all it would ever be. A reflection. What was it hat she really looked like to him? She knew she'd never really see it, but she cringed at the thought.
Her footsteps tread through the bedroom, in what she thought was silent. Sliding by the bed, making her way to the door, two arms wrapped around her waist and stomach, pulling her in. "Where could you possibly going at this early hour, teddy bear?"
She giggled, climbing into bed with him. "Well I was going to make you breakfast in bed."
His gentle lips brushed hers. "I have you, baby girl. Who needs breakfast?"
Do I really wanna drive 5 hours for a cat cuz Pindie can't get it? XD
I want to go to fancy restaurants.
And I wanna do it all with you...
I may have butchered that one XD
*applause* Good answer, good answer!
"I'm sorry I just don't see where I was such a negative influence?"
Tell that to the picture you sent of your razor covered in blood.
Tell that to the fact that my feelings never mattered.
Tell that to blaming me for your suicide attempt.
Tell that to every time something bad conveniently happened to you every time I left.
Tell that to the way you flaunted being the most mentally ill.
Tell that to the way I wasn't sad enough.
it's personal
Books mentioned in this topic
A Midsummer Night’s Dream (other topics)The Great Gatsby (other topics)
The Great Gatsby (other topics)
The Great Gatsby (other topics)
The Great Gatsby (other topics)
