long gone are the days of welcomed contemplation. fear and exhaustion has taken place of desperate analysis. i run from my own thoughts with aching lungs and trembling fingertips.
mythblood reblogged
they say the look in my eye reminds them of a cat watching from the darkened corner of a room; that the way i walk, and the way i talk, is practiced, quiet, fickle, playful, observant. that they cannot separate the two in their mind, from my smile to how my heart mourns every moment not spent off the ground. they say it’s almost incredible– i think it’s far too flattering.
how am i supposed to tell them that i feel no more graceful than a dog on a leash? that every moment i spend wishing i could believe them is also spent with the heavy weight of my collared past clasped around my neck. that i flinch like a stray kicked far too many times when a hand is raised towards me. that i’m always a little too ready to bare my teeth, a little too ready to become the villain in another’s stead. that when dogs are trained to protect someone-- attack for someone, it becomes infinitely harder to live a gentle life. how am i supposed to say that i feel like a mutt in cat’s clothing?
they say the look in my eye reminds them of a cat watching from the darkened corner of a room; that the way i walk, and the way i talk, is practiced, quiet, fickle, playful, observant. that they cannot separate the two in their mind, from my smile to how my heart mourns every moment not spent off the ground. they say it’s almost incredible-- i think it’s far too flattering.
Anonymous asked:
i love your writing so much.
thank you!
the melodic voice of the wind, from its whistles to the way its breath rustles the leaves, swept me off my feet as soon as my eyes could comprehend the horizon line and my heart felt the first pangs of a longing ache to abandon thoughts of home for the intoxicating concept of experiencing what the rest of the world sees when they look up at the sky, and their trees, and the texture of the paint on their walls. a wanderlust i never grew out of. it’s the ache in my heart that tells me i would like to live forever and yet not another day within the same beat; escapism at its finest. that seductive desire to know what the world is like without having to bloody my hands and wear my throat raw with its jagged edges. to balance just on the precipice of being a part of something deeper than the gaze of my curious mind.
Anonymous asked:
Anonymous assumption: are you the person that makes straight men gay and gay women straight.? Or the other way around
i’m so sad that tumblr isn’t a functional website that actually tells me when i’ve gotten notifications, because this is both absolutely hilarious and flattering. i’d be delighted to know i’m alluring enough to make people question their sexuality, honestly. in truth, all i can say is that there have been times in my life where multiple people have had crushes on me at once.
i bite and tear at tangled threads daringly called thoughts, teeth sharpened by years of war and self sacrifice. to simultaneously focus in and out on my mind is a habit i know well, eyes blurred with the tears i rarely have the energy to cry and an exhaustion i cannot seem to shake. it’s times like these that i muse over how my child self would undoubtedly agree that this objective introspection marred by self deprecation and a flighty ego is a nasty hobby to have.
it is rare that my words elude me, yet in one fell swoop you’ve managed to silence my mind for days. i despise the fog of betrayal that’s clouded my thoughts, how difficult it has become to even breathe. my chest tightens just seeing you, my psyche running in circles yet suspended in time all at once. i had forgotten just how hard a pill to swallow broken trust is.
repetition and routines are both things i find difficult to retain. i am not a person of order, or structure. my memory has deteriorated, and my frustration only grows. lists and pillboxes strike an anger in my heart; defiance crawls its way up my throat in the form of scoffs and cries.
i am tired of the maintenance. i am exhausted with the everyday.
mythblood reblogged
i could have been soft, i could have been kind
things went very wrong
mythblood reblogged
i broke young, you can see it in my eyes. you can tell by the way i carry myself that i grew up too fast.
mythblood reblogged
and darling, what if one day the sunset broke free from the horizon line? what if the russets and coppers bled throughout the clouds and grasses?
isolation took root in my bones when i was just a child, ghosting my blood like a phantom sentenced to bear the chains of its resting place. i’ve become resigned to the way it follows me; seeping into everything i try to achieve. still, there is a sorrow to this doomed acceptance of mine.
mythblood reblogged
apathy. empty laughter. bitter coping