word of the vomit

Tell her I wanted to be her. That I wanted to wake up one day and not carry the weight of every ghost that still sleeps in my bed, not flinch at the sound of my own name, not feel like a trespasser in my own skin.

But I am tired. God, I am tired. And no one tells you that sometimes, trying isn’t enough. That sometimes, the fire wins. That sometimes, you stand in the wreckage for so long you forget you ever wanted to leave.

So if you find her— the girl who made it, the girl who doesn’t look over her shoulder, who isn’t haunted by hands she can’t see, who doesn’t taste blood when she speaks— don’t tell her about me.

Let her think I was never real. Let her be free of the weight of who I could have been. Let her go.

And if you can— please, God— let me go too.

Up in the clouds, my mind has been wandering.

Dreaming of your name in every corner ㅡ signs to my face, screaming!

Happy thoughts can be deceiving; they were never free,

Unlike flower children grounding ㅡ down on earth, under a tree.

Barely birthed yesterday yet blessed with growth,

I had my time to learn: you were another far-fetched oath.

Even the wisest in the room would deem this empty talk cheap.

Like a fool, I still ought to reach out for keeps.

You'd think all this overthinking would make me a better tinker.

Alas, what's a girl to do when your best potential is beyond any fixer?

Perchance, I'm now a traitor for outgrowing my own outdated belief.

With the butterflies and seasons, I'm turning over a new leaf.

Not getting any younger,

I'll waste no time venturing the yonder.

As I flutter my wings once again,

Don't flatter yourself ㅡ you'd only feel in vain.

Golden dusts wasted on you,

I'm reclaiming my magic ㅡ loss on you!

ㅡ M.C.

Songs that inspired "...Of a Pixie's Otherworldly Renaissance" :

there is a love in which i will always know you, just incase you forget.