#arieli writes

I am the pause between thunder and its sound. The muscle drawn back, never loosed. The note the throat holds, but never sings.

I am the spark locked in glass — visible, bright, but untouchable. I am blueprint, not building. Swell, not storm. A scream coiled in breath, a gesture that never becomes a hand.

I exist in outlines — shadows of movement without the grace of motion.

They name me “promise,” but I am not promised anything. Only held. Held in pause. Held in the ache of becoming. In the ache of “not yet.” And maybe never.

I rot in the readiness. So much force. So little freedom. All the weight of fire with nothing to burn.

There is no glory here. No beauty in waiting. Only pressure folding in on pressure.

I am not the silence before the music. I am the silence after the orchestra forgot to play.

And still they look at me — and call me potential. As if that's not just another word for unfinished.

-ari

a message for you:

There’s a mosquito on my wall. Small and frail. Its constant pestering and lingering— interrupts my sleep with its insistent hum.

Its boldness is evident as it lands on my arm with conquering audacity. It toys with my hair, whispers things I do not understand.

The buzzing, the whining— gone when I wake, but I remember. Always.

Under the cover of darkness, it comes again, sucking the blood from my veins. Lingering, draining, until I am hollow. Until I am consumed of my humanity.

Its senselessness always leaves a mark— hard and smooth, like a lover’s kiss, as bitter as betrayal.

I search for escape, some relief, scratching the walls of this void— only to fall deeper.

Foolish mosquito. Born of darkness. A parasite. You’ve swallowed my sanity, leaving nothing but the echoes of your hunger.

-ari

a message for you:

Ignorance really is death because tell me why my friend tole me that this girl he knows (she's christian btw) told him that her, along with her entire family, would send him to a CONCENTRATION CAMP because he's gay. LIKE HELLO? The crazier thing is that he started defending her saying that it wasn't her fault because that's how she was raised. This isn't just how "someone was raised" it's violent and dehumanizing. There's a responsibility that falls onto us the moment we decide to follow something/someone. People like her choose to remain ignorant and naive by not picking up their bible and reading. They don't make sure to have all the facts about everything they're being taught. They don't know if it's actually biblical. Like maybe what my parents said about gay people being sent to concentration camps just because they're gay isn't what Jesus taught. I'm not saying that you should rebel against your parents or point fingers, all I'm saying is to QUESTION, INVESTIGATE, AND LEARN. Don't just give something or someone your blind devotion and follow them like sheep. You'll find that Jesus' teachings are completely different to what some of these modern day ted talkers are now "preaching". This also applied to these outdated opinions that some people have like saying that women can't or shouldn't be pastors. Like it slowly builds up until ignorance becomes death and we're sending everything we don't understand to hell. So please, be curious, be wary of things, you won't loose faith by learning; if anything you'll gain something from it.

-ari

You need to shave your armpits

Don’t you know that not crying can lead to drowning

Sometimes it feels necessary 

Sometimes not crying can feel like trying to fly

If you don’t shave them hair will knot and tangle

Sometimes hollow objects can produce the loudest of noises 

You need to shave your armpits 

And sometimes the absence of canned beans can be devastating 

You need to stop shaving your armpits 

Rigid stances and hose nozzles thrown

If you shave them too much they might itch 

Whispered words and scared cats tell too many lies

You need to stop shaving your armpits 

Projectors don’t hurt but they remember 

Razor burns and regrowing hair rub against skin 

You need to stop shaving your armpits or what should thrive will snarl

tell me about despair and i’ll tell you about the sickening twists of my soul every time i think.

tell me about despair and i’ll tell you how my anger suffocates me, how i drink my bitter words, how they burn down my throat, past my lungs.

tell me about despair, i’ll tell you how my spirit claws toward eternity while my bones passionately sink toward the grave— yearning for a fire i was always meant to perish in.

-ari

P.S. this was originally called “Tell Me, Tell You”

a meesage for you: