coal

every day i wake up and life reminds me why i shouldn't have

i miss being in university. i miss being a student and learning. going to classes was all that i had known about life. i miss sitting in the chairs and watching slides and learning and playing with my friends. my spirit cant seem to adjust in the corporate setting. i want to be a student again. i realised that the only thing that carried me through these past few months of working was the thought that i will soon find myself in a classroom in a foreign land studying for my masters and learning and growing. but that too seems like asking for too much. i have potential but it is so fucking average. i could have been great but they never believed in me. they always expected me to be great but they gave up on it and stopped appreciating me once i tried to be great in my own way and not according to their definition of it. i hate being a 23 year old ranting this stuff out on tumblr. but what can i do i cant afford a therapist to listen to me and i am too scared right now that i will go off the hinges. anyways i yearn to be back in academia again. i just wish that they would fucking see me as an individual who is capable of doing things and someone they can invest in. i wish they would have called me intelligent for once for me and not because they wanted to force me into taking their side in carrying out an act of cruelty. i wish my parents saw me as a kid for once in my life and not a warrior who has to fight all their battles silently and not as a mannequin who never has any desire. i wish they saw that i too have a wish sometimes and that im not just the other daughter they have to deal with who has never brought anything but trouble

back to writing once again. i was advised my chatgpt, because i cant afford a therapist, to write my feelings and thoughts out as it helps clear your head. even therapy is afforded only to the rich and privileged. i guess i was rich and privileged but not anymore i haven't been for a long time. financial insecurity or blackmail isn't a new thing for me. they think they can threaten me with it but man they don't know that this is in my foundation. they say youve become estranged now but they dont remember the times i spent begging restaurants to send me food and friends' parents sending some for me because they never cared to ask at that time. they dont know anything ive been through. the only thing they care about is just how i make them look in front of others and how i look in front of others. these others who do not give a damn about them beyond what they can provide they care about them so goddamn much and here i am who hasnt let a single complain escape my lips at anytime bearing the brunt of looking good for them. they can withhold the money they can withhold my dreams it's not like it is something that has happening to me for the first time. i have fought my battles and i have never cared about losing them because there is nothing that anyone can take from me. except her. she is the only one that tethers my feet to this ground. i could be swinging in the wind again and she has never asked me to settle on the ground but i want to and that's the only want and only dream ive ever had thats so fucking unattainable in every way. yet such is life. i could forget about it all. i could forget about myself. what was practising the erasure of the "self" and getting over that idea if not the killing in cold blood of all my desire. sometimes there is an ache in me to get everything that i wish for and not to adapt with just what life throws at me. i thrive in the unexpected but sometimes a wish is born in my heart too and it hurts me the birth of it and i have to kill that child of my heart with my own hands. if i die then i die. but i dont believe i deserve hell for this for standing up for myself and what i believe in. can believes be wrong? i guess they can be. if they impose unrightful possession on the beliefs and rights for others. but what do i know. im not a philosopher or an authority on morals. but what makes them philosophers or authorities on morals. fuck if i know. im just tired of killing my self and my desire and im tired of standing up and i want to sleep and i want to rest without having to numb myself and without having feel everything constricted within me. i cant say this shit out loud to anyone else so i write here. maybe someday someone will see these and think fuck man they got a lot of desire for attention and hey man fuck you for thinking that. i have so mucb rage, hate, sympathy, compassion, conflict, division, love, yearning, confusion, and sadness within me right now that i could tip at any point. ive been crying at work for fucks sake. i dont like being this person. i dont like being this sick fuck. but i have been this before and i have never asked for help maybe this is my sign to realise that im too poor and financially limited to ask for help so for people like us we can only revel in our sadness and maybe sell our soul sometime

i love you and i love you so much that it will always be at the back of my throat stifling and choking on itself. your hands are large enough to hold my neck and face at the same time. you can have it blurted out from my throat and smack me and stroke my cheek at the same time. i love loving you. i love having you. but you will never know the extent of it. i hate having to show it at its 10%. you are so beautiful that i want to keep looking at you all the time and i dont want to avert my gaze so you wouldn't know. every part of me that you have ever touched has not stopped talking about you ever since they have been known by you. time has never been on my side. i know the time we have now is limited and life might take us farther away from each other than the moon is to us right now yet that moon kept me company while you were not here and the impact you have had on me you are already the moon to me. you keep your distance and i cannot reach you for i am on the earth and my maximum height to you is on my rooftop or a mountain and you are the moon far up in the sky yet even from there you control each tide within my being and each phase of yours is so different and inspires so many different things in me yet so equally beautiful to me and you comfort me even from up there your light reflects on me and lights up my world in the darkest of hours. someday i might become the boy who stole the moon and hid it under his pillow. they will come looking for me but i will shut my door and sleep peacefully for you are here right now and to hell with all those who can take us apart saying that the moon belongs to the sky and i cant have you unless ofcourse you miss the sky and the climate up there and your phases then i shall let you go again but always visit you at night on my rooftop and though your light shall be bright and shine on millions i will always know that you have known the mess of my bedroom and the weight of my dreams under my pillow. i love you so much that the thought has crossed my mind once again that i love you so much and you will never know and i won't ever let it go and the thought of all that love that i keep bottled up so i wont lose you eats me up because i want to look at you longer and hold your hand with intention and listen to you sing and taste the lipstick you wear and tell you what i really think when you dress up and stay with you longer and just tell you what i really think and tell you how i really feel

i dont write often. i dont know how to write. pouring myself out into words seems too abstract. there is a lot of feelings within me like an entity, a ball, a fog, a semisolid, a glob or blob or whatever. words are sounds. i dont know metaphors or how enough metaphors or how to make something sound metaphorical. ismt that what poetry is? yea i suck at that. and idk the things on the internet what i say feels performative what i write feels performative. when i think in words it is just too much. when i think in images it haunts me that i have lost my drive to express those images. i hate feeling. i like the numb now. i dont like the numb either. i dont know how to feel or what to feel. i want their to be quiet. i want to hear the sound of my happiness. i want to hear the sounds of my friends talking and laughing without having those sounds get muffled out by the din of all that is going on within me and and the fear of what might happen next. oh i love it when im numb for in that time i can just see how beautiful my friends look. at least my vision becomes smooth and pure. the anxiety still screams within me but i dont feel it then i choose not to see it then just hear it and look at my beautiful friends for i dont know how long can i look at their smiles and their sorrows and just that raw expression of being women and being queer together. what a strange family i have built here. what a wacky group of intricately fucked up messes we are together and how beautiful are we right now. how beautiful is this fucked up city in which we live right now. oh i love this city and these people so much. i cannot do poetic or artistic justice to them. words and images fail here. this city and these friends are best appreciated if i just keep looking at them and hearing their voices and touching their hands and cheeks and shoulders and knees and sharing drinks and cigarettes and recognizing them from the smell of their sweat and soaking in the heat and standing in the cold and looking at the trees and singing with the people. and no, no other music shall be heard except the one made in this land in the past and in the present and eating its fruit and smoking its local cigarettes for this is it here and now and there is none else like it

i think ive seen this film (glasgow willy wonka experience) before (dashcon)

i love you tumblr logos