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@refrainedinprosody
What is love if not misshapen by the sound of discipline chaining a dog?
What is love if not obedience hanging by the neck with a rope turning red because of anger?
Would it be love if you're not a white heart drained out of efforts and blood?
If not all of those, then what is then?
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She's so angry to be living inside a house with an angry man she doesn't realize that she's becoming one.
I never have thought in my life that I would forever be the one proving that there should be anger first before having peace. It shouldn't be. But I would've stopped if I didn't have to justify my own repercussions with things I have no responsibility to. I didn't asked for things I have willingness to fix to be broken. Yet I did anyway. And I still get the consequences if I wasn't able to fix it in the first try.
I wouldn't want to ridicule her fear of having to drain me for doing just that, but it is. A bit. Because I continue on doing so.
It's a cycle I found myself in and have a hard time breaking out of.
At times like this that I feel like I'm always gonna be loved conditionally.
That it's just what I deserve.
That that would be the love fated for me, by definition.
Love the taste of making it more worse
Like a licorice under my tongue
Does being less means you'll endure me?
Does being less means you'll stay?
Does being less means you'll have me?
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I hate that I always hide behind my façade. That my truest self is being loomed over by someone I chose to defend myself with.
"Is there anything else?"
I meant, talk more.
Stay.
Say everything you want to say.
I don't want to be in this war.
I was the one who left
But now I'm the one clutching my stomach
Wanting to go anywhere
Somewhere just to keep me sane.
God I hate feeling anxious.
This is your fault.
You made me rely on you goddamn it.
JENNA ORTEGA at the Marrakech Film Festival
I'm starting to believe that maybe she was right.
I'll never find a love like hers.
I'm an avoidant who was always doomed from the start.
Who was always gonna doom everyone my way.
I'm starting to believe that this is all I'm destined to be.
That I'll never unlearn it.
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I've started having those thoughts again.
Faint, but there.
Like a weak pulse fighting to be heard but never getting loud unless I take over.
You wonder why I don't ask for help?
It makes it real. It opens up something I've been trying to lock up my entire life.
It will bleed more if people look at it.
Shame.
Awareness.
Whenever I look back,
All I remember is how much pain I had to hide.
I hate that I'm kind and observant.
I've always been the one to not hope.
But I did learn to try and see the better in people when you arrived.
Now, I regret ever only seeing the better in you.
Now, I'm blinded.
— R.I.P
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My mind hates how you can go on a day without me.
It has grown to hate waiting for you.
Its thoughts are slowly becoming poisonous,
Dying to get a hold of that hardness once again.
It never wanted to hope anymore.
Nor expect.
Nor believe.
It's just my heart.
It recognizes you.
Your voice.
How it beats with your knock at the door.
It can't help it. I love you.
— R.I.P
I, once again, been blamed for not voicing out my empty feeling.
How can you be sensitive and I can't?
How is it to provide you, and yet still be buried?
— R.I.P
