casperisdead

[casperisdead]

[casperisdead]

something about loving someone is giving them the power to break your heart and hoping they will not use it

[casperisdead]

[casperisdead]

“We dance,” said the moon, and they knew she meant the ocean. “I push and she pulls. I rise and set, she rises and ebbs. She pushes, I pull. We go around and around and I watch her tides and I do not think I will ever tire of calling her beautiful. Is that love?”

— ink-splotch | original post

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"People empty me. I have to get away to refill."

– Charles Bukowski

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my heart is so heavy it’s getting too big for me to carry maybe if I take it to my grandmother’s house she’ll take care of it, I’m sure

— moon-shower | passed down and back again

[casperisdead]

Me and books!

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it's quicker than you realize darlin

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photo credits to pinterest.

[casperisdead]

my name

Since the first few minutes of my life, I've been a joke. My mother named me after a stripper and spelled it wrong. This name was supposed to be 'unique', according to her, and that's why she didn't know how to spell it. Yet, she never seems to forget how to say it. That ringing eerie screech across the room still stops me in my tracks to this day, and I've not been called it in public for years. Although I buried that name six feet underground, changed how I look, changed my personality, changed my interests, and changed everything I could to separate myself, she doesn't fail to bring it back to life. She oxygenates it herself, refusing to take it off life support as she views that name more as her child than her own flesh and blood. As the nurses and doctors plead with her to stop using her own breath on that of a name, tears start bleeding from her eyes as she collapses to the ground herself after letting go of the name for one moment. Once she regains consciousness, she won't stop sobbing until she reaches that name again. I can never forget that name. I was called it for 18 years, and am still referred to it in some circles. It will always come back to the dead every time I go home for the holidays, call my mom on the phone, or receive a birthday card from her. I wish to be Great, like my name is now. I wish to be the son my mom longed for. I wish to be the kid whose dad would teach football to. I wish to be the nephew whose uncle helps put on their first suit. I wish to be born again. I wish to die to be born again into the body I was meant to have. I wish to not have been cursed by the devil himself. Maybe after this life, though. Maybe it's part of my plan to have a life full of suffering and pain to show me what to be grateful for. To show me how to be humble. Which is so ironic. I become less grateful, and less humble as things are stripped from me, as I beg for simple respect, as I fear for my life each time I drive in fear of getting pulled over, as I receive punishment for simply asking for help, as I receive countless abuse, as I receive grief harder than anything I could ever get. "You're being dramatic. You have to fake it til you make it." I will never forget those words that my own mother said to me when I sobbed in her arms for not fitting in during my childhood. Those words were repeated throughout my life. As I lay in her arms after being legally kidnapped, after I had to return to the school with the same kids who told me to kill myself, after I was called a prostitute, after I was called a drug addict. Yet, none of that mattered to her. So, why should it matter to me? Why do things affect me? Why is it bad that they do? Why is it bad that I can't accept my mom not accepting me? Why can't she accept me? Why am I me? Why?

ignore this. idk. needed to rant.

[casperisdead]

I’m constantly on this search  for the essence of who I am.  Sometimes, it finds me  and I can feel its presence.  But if I try to grasp it,  it slips away.  If I try to separate it  from the rest, it escapes.  So elusive.  Like the birth of a soul  with no one to receive it,  no shape to define it.  Spilling everywhere,  touching everything.  Free.

[casperisdead]

@academia-lucifer

[casperisdead]

tarot 27.08.23

i am the moon. I am surrounded by shadow, but have the light of my higher self to guide me. At times, she flies asunder and I should choose to await her arrival, but I become angry by her dissapearance and choose situations that cause termoil.

My safety is my lover. I am faced with two risks: following love, or denying my heart allowing it to face the challenges alone. One is fulfillment through comfort and safety, the other, however, speaks for itself. The admission to the fact that I will always only have myself and the idea that to be able to feel confident in that I must face my fears alone. Which, according to every Disney film is the worst thing to do. Yet, in historical and religious context is the most fulfilling. I know I am to face my fears alone, but that doesn't mean I can't come home to a safe space with the person that I can allow to see me as I am healing, and not just when I'm healed, as there is a sense of vulnerability there- which is truly the most fulfilling feeling.

I am a trickster, though. I lie, I manipulate, I hurt people. I don't even know what to be fearful of coming out, since I don't even remember everything I've hidden or brought light to. I fear that I have become a beacon of terror throughout my life, that I will always be the boy who cried wolf and nobody will ever believe me and I will always be destined to be alone.

The deck says what I've been told by everyone: I am killing the matrix. It is so easy for me to accomplish things, to be a light full of pride. But, I have never been proud of something I've accomplished. I've always found it embarrassing or simple. I used to fear when I was younger that I was mentally slow and everyone would give me simple tasks and lie to me and say that I did great. It didn't hit me until I sat in the same room as the people I looked up to and they told me that I sucked at dancing, but I had real acting talent. It felt so genuine, and I realized that I am not the star of a television show, but the funny side character that is really good at life stuff but not so popular, not so attractive, always the bridesmaid never the bride.

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Thoughts

My brain is so funny to me. It used to be so complex and deep. I suppose it still is, but I've learned to decode its complexity as it is so simple to me now. I go about my little matrix tasks and try to find connections where I can. Then, I eventually get lost amongst humanity and lose my path towards the light. Yet, my brain remains focused on this simple human. Just one human, with complex emotions I haven't felt for another. I feel peace like I could be myself and not get hurt. Yet, so much anxiety as I am caring for a baby bird with a broken wing and I feel as though every move is simply hurting them. I know I am scary, I know I am a lot to handle, and I know I completely destroy every relationship eventually, but I cannot allow myself to bear the feeling of ever hurting them in any way. I want them to understand that I admire them in ways that a young daughter looks up to her dad when she falls off the bike for the first time and he kisses her scraped knees and she feels his confidence and is able to get back on that bike. I look at them the same way the young teenage boy looks at his prom date in her dress for the first time. I listen to them in the way I could only imagine Jesus listening to his own Father in the sky in a language only the two of them understand. Yet, I wouldn't give my last dime to them, for our coins would jingle in the same bag, holding our grievances together as we smile at the funny noise it makes.

[casperisdead]

Last Night

Every night, I contemplate my two options: smoking and getting too high that I pass out watching the yellow men dance across my computer screen, eventually giving me eye strain and brain damage, or staying up endlessly scrolling on TikTok until my eyes eventually drift away to a different world with some new popular song playing within the background of the castle in the sky. But, this past night was the night I used to experience every night growing up, but rarely experience now. A night of excitement, of peace knowing that time doesn't matter, a night where I stay up and write or decide on a new project, or completely redecorate my room into a new aesthetic that matches the new personality I will have until the next time I have this type of night. Anxiety boils through my blood as my brain is taken in this euphoric feeling and my body is so stiff yet flowing and following its own beat that nobody quite understands but they do their best. They call me bipolar, knowing that this could be a manic episode. They tell me I'm getting better as these nights slowly disappear, but they do not know the true pain and peace I feel on these nights or how these nights cause a true change within my DNA and it is not just a personality disorder. 

This past night I tried letting the smoke take my lungs away, but they persisted. I tried allowing my eyes to drift off to TikTok, but they would not take me to that beautiful world beneath the layers of brain matter. Instead, I lay awake, contemplating my past relationships.

I know that I was a bully, I just assumed that part of me disappeared. Yet, considering the past few weeks, it seems to be something I am innately born with. I ponder with the feelings of grief- for I am grieving in so many ways. Grieving people who are still alive yet could never look my way, grieving people who are knocking on death's door, grieving people who have been sat at death's table, grieving people who would do anything to sit at that damn table that I have tried so hard to avoid, yet, I can't help but accept that nobody will grieve me.

Sure, I would grieve myself, for I know everything about me. I see the passion in my eyes when I perform, tell stories, or share parts of the world to new eyes. I see the compassion when I hand a child a new sticker for helping their friend when I play with my dog with such unconditional love that I know nobody could ever have for me when I befriend a new person and allow them to rant and hold space for them when I know they would never do the same for me. But, I know nobody else sees these things.

No, I am seen as someone who is accomplished. Someone who is too good for connection. Someone who is so cool they must have so many friends. Someone who would give their last dime as it would create a smile. So, I allow myself to be used and abused because if that is how someone else shows their love, I will accept it because I know no other type of love.

I hated being the victim, so I became the bully. Now, I hate being the bully, so I became the victim again. When your brain is in black and white, how do you find the grey area? When you don't know who you are, how do you better yourself? When you are grieving so much, how do you ever heal?

This is not the end of my story, but I have no clue what the ending will look like. I imagine a home with kids running around, tea brewing in the kitchen, the smell of lavender filling the room as I pull the fresh bread from the oven, and I look outside and I still feel like there is more, for no matter how much I try to do, no matter how much I long for connection, I know I will never feel fulfilled or satisfied so I simply breathe and for some reason, part of me knows that's enough.