mskpassed

[mskpassed]

Blood that should've been water

There's no worse thing than looking in the mirror and seeing your father looking back at you.

The man you never understood, the man you never wanted to understand, the man that never tried to understand you either.

I don't want to relate to a man I never truly understood, let alone try and make amends. What would've happened if I never met him? What would've happened if I never learnt about him?

Whatever happened to the kid who met you, who didn't know you, who didn't understand what you were doing there, yet seemed so happy to see you. Those were the days where you probably were glad to be a dad. To God knows who, because I don't remember it well enough.

And where was that man when I was born, right? Yet where was that man when I was already here, getting tests done. But where was that man when I was already a teen, filled with heartbreak and regret.

Where was that man when I became an adult and I knew that I would never be the same again?

How could a father look at his kid and expect them to follow his every instruction with no explanation — it is beyond me, I tell you that much.

Let every sip of alcohol that burns my throat remind me of everything my father isn't, and let the words that leave his mouth scar my skin with venom, until the end of time.

I am his replica, a shell of a man who I will never be until I get over the feelings of impending doom that surround me when he speaks.

And they say you need to break the cycle, but I don't think I can if all I feel when I look at my own father is dread.

And no, dad, I've never shot something with a gun. I've never felt the taste of blood in my mouth after a fight.

I don't know who I'd be without you in my life, yet I don't know who I am with you here either.

Sometimes I sit on my bed, on the bed you helped build, in the room you made for me, in a house you made for a better future.

I sit and wonder — why aren't you a good dad?

Am I a bad son? Was I not enough of a daughter to you? Could've been more of your kid if I knew. But even then, you seemed to never accept anything I had to say.

Blood runs thicker than water, family is the only one there for you, you can't trust anyone but your family, you can't trust your friends more than your family — and yet we're both here, one and the other.

I am like you and you are like me, but I am not you, and you're not me.

I have your birthmark on my skin, the way you lie on my mind, my temper on my hands, your strength in my veins, your anger in my soul.

And the resentment in my heart, dad. The resentment you must've held against your own father your whole life.

I lost all respect for you the day I stood at the dinner table and stared at you for an hour straight while eating cold pasta with a pinch of salt, after you took my silence for defiance.

There wasn't much respect for you left in me before that, let alone any of it having remained nowadays.

Maybe I'm not strong like you think I am, or maybe I am too self aware to want to be like you.

You're not my hero, you're not even a hero.

'Father' is the title you got without deserving it. Your name is the only thing that can define you.

The world is cold, and you make it colder, dad.

[mskpassed]

Fuck you (but not me)

I don't think anyone should be begging for love, let alone yours.

Let alone your already short attention span that never allowed you to keep up for more than 2 minutes with me before you moved on to other matters.

I was never the main attraction, only lasted 3 months before we left to more important moments, to more important feelings and sensations.

I fell apart and you fell out of love, fell apart and you moved on.

I fell apart and you didn't (know). (Never did you really care about it in the first place)

It never was the honeymoon phase, we doomed ourselves in the middle of everything and never knew how to crawl out of it. Out of the holes we dug, the graves that were awaiting us.

What's the pawn without a player? What's the bullet without a gun? What's the time without a clock?

Don't act like it all always affected you, like my actions were hurting you. I knew what I had done and he knew what I had done, but you didn't.

You had no idea what I was doing other than the fact that I was out of my mind once again, something you hadn't seen before, not like this.

I drowned myself in sensations I never wanted.

I drowned myself in pain I never thought I'd feel.

I drowned myself in revelations I never thought I'd make.

I never thought I'd see past everything and see you. You as you are, you as you were, you as you never will be for me, never again.

I tried to change myself but what was I doing it for? I tried to fix myself but who was I doing it for?

I tried to keep myself sane but why was I even trying when you were pushing me to the other side of the road?

Things end, yet it feels like someone — or something — has begun ripping your heart from the inside. Getting under it might be easier than getting over it.

No one deserves for the love they once received to be replaced by disrespect. Let alone be replaced by ignorance and ghostings.

I text you like you've never hurt me, but I will never forget the way you spoke like it never even mattered to you. I tried, I swear I did, but it wasn't enough for you. And I don't think anything could've been enough for your 24/7 yet non-existent want for the attention.

[mskpassed]

Nothing but a guy

There's nothing poetic about a guy suffering, about how he throws punches to walls when he's upset, about how his eyes never wet or shed tears because he's too surrounded by toxic masculinity to even admit to having emotions.

Life isn't as I paint it, but more as I wish for it to be. Nothing will ever be as painful as standing in front of a mirror, punching and kicking at it until all its shards fall on my arms. Watch them stab my tough skin but never leave enough scars.

Is there anything poetic about a break up? About the way your heart gets ripped apart and thrown into a ditch, about how you feel useless and worthless and begin losing your appetite, about how your day gets ruined by just the sight of them.

There's no point in explaining the sights and the wishes of a simple person. Of a poet however? Beg to differ for another story from their vault of lullabies. Never wanted to leave any more or any less, not like I ever hoped for it to become.

Just like there will never be something poetic about a drunk. About a struggling person, trying to get up from their bed after they cried their eyes out with a pounding headache accompanying their every move and word. The realization that they're not any better than their family, that they'll never be any better than them. Failed their inner child and their inner soul.

Society kills poets, but poets might just rather they do it instead. No point in getting stabbed in the back when you can just point the gun to the side of your head. Loving and floating above water as the puddles of blood and words surround you.

A gory, beautiful eyesight for sore eyes.

I've been me and I've been someone else, I've seen less and I've seen more than enough, I've thrown up and I've loosened up, just as much as everyone in my life has ever had. One thing remains constant as always, the passing of time. Before I know it, the world turns to dust.

I've had my past denied by my own flesh and blood. I know what I know, but I don't think I trust what I know. Never will I trust it, as much as I won't trust family. I will always be as alone as you've met me, I'll never be as loved as you need me to be, I'll never be as tough as you wish for me to be.

I've drowned out all my feelings. I'll never be anything but a fuck up, stuck up. A shell of a man that never even got the chance to live. However painful everything may be, nothing will ever be the same in my life. Wonder how I'll ever move on, how I'll ever live on, how I'll ever survive without having my head under the water.

I've hidden behind everything I ever could. Love, sex, drinks, jokes, pain, regret. I am not the person everyone has ever thought me to be. Away from this city I am a nobody, and inside of it I am still a nobody. Because I am as forgettable as a piece of cardboard and as unforgivable as a crime.

And, man, I am fucked up. I am just a guy behind the screen, writing over and over again.

At the end of the day, I'll always define myself as to what I know about myself, not who I am, as I don't know who I am.

Never will I know.

[mskpassed]

Made for nothing, only to be alive

I am not made for friendships, for talking, for conversations, for hangouts, for arguments, for driving, for studying, for school, for work.

I was made for nothing, just to occupy some more space in this world. To get rid of some necessary oxygen.

Only thing I was ever good for was writing. Just not texts, just not homework.

Essays, poems, journal entries.

I am what I will never be able to explain. I am what people misunderstand about me. I am what I'll never be able to express.

I am just another person, all of the words in this world are my enemies. They're against me, rarely with me. I never learnt how to use them properly.

Maybe in another universe I'm dead, maybe in another universe I'm better.

And maybe in another universe I don't exist.

But that's just a maybe, that's all it will ever be. I'll never get to find out, I'll never get to learn.

I'll always be stuck in a loop, never will I break out of it. Never will I learn how to stop it.

There's nothing in this world less capable of making me feel incompetent like the world itself. My experiences are my own, and my thoughts are the world's to read, consume and process.

I am but a mere soul, an incapable soul.

I never learnt what it feels like to be capable of being human.

Is it the tears that drop from your eyes when you're not paying attention? Is it the warmth of a cup against your cold hands? Is it the sparkle in your eyes when you look at the person you love? Is it the music record spinning next to you?

Will I ever be a functional human being or will I forever be a soul pretending to be alive?

All I was ever good for was holding a pen and writing whatever came to mind. Whatever I actually understood from my thoughts and experiences.

I think all this time I've been pretending I understand how the world works, never have I really known why I don't spin like the planets do.

I am a faceless body in a world of unmasked people. I am an incapable soul in a world of functionality and knowledge.

I am not made for this world, but neither am I made for existing anywhere else.

[mskpassed]

I am not better yet I act like I ever was

If you were to see me in real life you'd laugh at the way I am. I wish I were better, yet I want to be sicker than ever. There's no point in living if I am not what everyone says I should be.

And I can't directly tell anyone that my mind is clouded from all the stars in my eyes. I talk and talk about hating the things I do, yet I do nothing about them.

Every time I look in the mirror I feel like it might be better to just break it. Whoever has ever cared about the kid in the sky, whoever has ever needed some reassuring from the unknown parent in the street.

I thought I was stronger than this, but it shows that it was all a facade. And maybe if I tried harder I'd be gone too. Maybe if I tried harder I'd be invisible already, if I tried harder I'd be able to snap my fingers and be gone from the world.

There's no point in acting like words help others out, there's nothing in this situation that might make it any lighter for someone.

I fooled everyone but myself.

I want to be gone. I want the memory of me to be erased from everyone's minds, I want the goals I ever had to be moved to someone else, I want my enemies to never have met me and my friends to be better mentally, I want my throat to close up when I least expect it so I can choke on my own words, I want my life to be erased from existence, I want no one to care when it's all over, I want my world to be as dark as I need it to be, I want my words to mean less than they can ever mean.

I want the air to dissappear from my room and leave me to die in the carbon monoxide.

There's nothing in this world I want more than the ability to be gone forever and not change the outcome.

Nothing else matters when you look like your name is not yours and your body is deformed enough to be confused with an object.

I've had notes and I've had hopes, I've broken pens and punched walls, yet I've never been one to be enough.

I want to leave as nothing, just as I've come to this earth.

[mskpassed]

Nice guilt trip, but the bystander effect was literally made up by a cop and is counter to actual human morality just like Stockholm syndrome

If you consider telling people the truth to a genocide without sugar coating the information and the anger a 'guilt trip' then you should reevaluate your morals a little. And you cannot compare a coping mechanism to traumatic situations to the bystander effect, which is a true effect through and through.

[mskpassed]

Standing there and watching it become nothing

We're going into a new year, but the world has failed its people. How can you watch people fade away and not feel anything?

They were meant to have families, to live, to feel love and happiness. Watch as it all gets burnt to the ground and do nothing, because that's the bystander syndrome.

You'll do nothing. You'd do nothing. You'd rather let them get away with their crimes than learn what is happening. You'd rather let people die and turn a blind eye to their suffering.

It was 'Free Palestine' 75 years ago, it was 'Free Palestine' 65 years ago, 55, 45, you count them all for me. Count all the years, all the time it's been this way. Count me the days too while you're at it.

Tell me to my face that Israel is doing the right thing after you learn the history. Watch the light in everyone's eyes fade as each day passes, even if their hope never goes away. This is no war, this is a genocide.

Don't let them fool you. Palestine hasn't been free for years, don't let them trick you.

A pause is not them being free, a pause means nothing in a world filled with blood and suffering. It only means the constant waiting for the continuation of the pain.

Palestinian mothers, children, elders, babies, pets. All gone, incapable of living their lives to the fullest.

How can you call this a simple war?

How can you believe that they're at fault for all of it when it is clear who has been terrorizing them?

How can you be so heartless?

May the next year help everyone, may the next year bring the freedom Palestine deserves.

From the river to the sea,

Palestine will be free.

🇵🇸

[mskpassed]

Fuck if I know about my family

There were times where I'd feel hopeless for hours, days and even weeks on end.

Where the genes from my family would kick in and I'd want a bottle by my mouth and a line on the table. God knows where I got the worst things from, because I sure have never met everyone.

And I got better, I grew older. But I still have these nights where I am tired and hopeless and nothing sounds better than a coughing spree after exhaling smoke and some digestion of alcohol in the dawn of night.

This is one of them, don't let it fool you. I'll do it, someday it might win.

I'm not just a simple addict, I'm a generational addict. Might've skipped a person in my family, but I don't know if it'll skip me. I cough too much for my own good, I take in more than I can handle.

They say blood is thicker than water, but I never thought that alcohol would have the same consistency as blood in this case. Couldn't have predicted any kind of addiction, whether it was painful or not.

However, no addiction is harmless, it will always catch up with you no matter how hard you try to get away from it.

That last sip of alcohol might just bring you to the hospital, that last cigarette of the night might just make your lungs collapse, that last cut might just bring you some stitches.

I've got nothing to hide, yet I'm not an open book. I'm just another semi addict on the internet, writing poems and entries like their life depends on it. It does.

I have things to say I will never be able to communicate, I have things to hope for I will never be able to achieve.

I've seen the sunrise enough times to understand that what I'm doing is either wrong or incorrectly made.

I painted my room a good while ago. A white color, to make it clear if I'm ever smoking in here. I insisted on sleeping in my room that night as the paint dried. I woke up with poisoning from paint fumes, but I would still do the same even after that incident.

I am not as interesting as I may sound or seem, I word things to make it seem like it all wasn't just another boring incident.

[mskpassed]

I've stopped feeling like your friend a long time ago yet I still stick around

The amount of respect, admiration, infatuation I had for you is somewhat disappointing. It's not like we had a falling out, but it's also not like I feel there's any effort being made.

It's always the people I admire most, the ones I would do anything to be near - the ones who end up making me feel like being friends is simply a chore.

I've given up talking to you lately. I do it when I am too tired to think about how it's not worth it. You won't know it's about you, yet it will be in plain sight. I'm not one to call out people anymore, I don't want to make this all into a big mess with everyone and everything.

It's been too long to not write about this.

I want closure, yet I know there's none for me. There's nothing to tell me, nothing to explain to me.

I don't know if I am in the right to feel this way, I've been feeling like I'm just a lab rat. Nothing compared to who you might've thought I was.

The compliments I used to get from you would make me hopeful, but there's no point in trying when one can't feel the need to reconnect.

Everything is fine on one side of the page, yet the other side is all scribbled and damaged. Watch me become a broken pen, unusable. I'll be nothing to you, I won't be able to do anything for anyone.

I've ceased talking, ceased asking, ceased wondering. There's nothing to discuss other than how much longer will it take for me to just walk away or for you to forget I ever existed.

This is not the first time I've gone through this, yet I feel this won't be the last time either.

I would do so much for you, but karma seems to be by either of our sides.

My home is where I feel safe. A piece of it got retrieved from you a long time ago.

Would like to believe that I tried, because I guess I did.

Do you ever wonder on what terms we are?

Have I ever occupied a single one of your thoughts?

Was it all an act to make me feel like I mattered as a friend to someone who I respected more than I could respect others?

Must've gone from acceptance to grief once more. I never know when the time will just explode in our faces and show that we are no longer in contact.

Would've tried harder, but I've grown too tired of being sat away from my own emotions whenever I felt like it simply wasn't fair enough.

Maybe it was never meant to be.

Doomed from the beginning, easily breakable on paper, unable to work without more communication (which I guess we lack).

Not the end, though it might be best to let it all go.

Must've been a long walk down the road, nothing compares to others.

[mskpassed]

To be loved is to be changed

I see photos of myself from just a few weeks ago. I look at myself in the mirror nowadays.

Maybe it's the cold, maybe it's the warmth coming from the bedsheets. Maybe it's the kisses all over your face, maybe it's the warmth coming from you.

The way my smile lines show more, the way I can't hold back from holding you closer when we're on the road, when we're watching a movie, when we're in public even.

Hidden in plain sight, I'm glad it's all like this. If I had a choice, I would've chosen to do this all over again.

I've seen the way your eyes watered when we didn't know what else to do, how your hands shook when you were holding me in bed, the moment I realized your jacket wasn't one to be given back.

We're so different, yet so similar. You're driven by the anger I cannot feel properly and I'm driven by the mania in my veins I get when I rush down an empty road of memories.

Welcome to my heaven, the place where I keep all my favorite pictures and memories of us. I don't think anyone else has place inside other than us. It's a little too full for more people.

The moment you told someone, I knew there was no turning point. The moment I held you again, I knew something had changed.

Don't mistake my silence for disapproval, it was never meant to be like that. My silence is a reflection of my thoughts, I'd never get mad at you for who you were.

After all, what you are to them now, you've always been to me. I never thought I'd get to see you like this, yet here you are now.

You're still just as perfect as I remember you. I'd get on one knee for you if I could.

[mskpassed]

Blame me, blame yourself, blame us for what I've become

I am not good with words and I never was. I never felt like these things were worth writing, I don't see why you can't just be straightforward with someone. And I met you, and I've met others, and I now know why.

And I've been on and off my own life, on and off my own history of mistakes and wants. I've never been stable enough to keep myself alive without you around.

Have I ever been a poet? Never, no. Not really. You're the one with the rhymes, with the nice words, with the pace of your love. I will never be like you, I don't want to be like you, but I also never will be myself without you.

This no longer is the high way, it's just the road to a place where I never felt like I belonged. And I'm experiencing things I don't remember living through. And I lose myself to that mask hanging from the door of my room. And I've never been myself before, only with you.

You know how badly I don't want to talk about you. You know how much I hate seeing everything around me fall apart in the abyss of my own misery. Of my own delusion, of my own actions, of my own shadows.

The way you word your life is like reading a love letter towards the person it's all about. Don't let me be some dumb poetic guy, don't let me live as an emotional jerk with no regard for others, don't let me become a good person just because you can.

You're the poet, all I ever was is a shadow of a man I never was. Why'd you have to be like this? Why'd you have to be someone who knows how to bring a smile to my face?

I've never hated you more than now, I've never wanted to see your face filled with blood more than now, I've never needed to hit you in the face more than now.

Don't look at me and see me differently, you know who I am and always have known. It's not news to you nor is it something foreign to me.

I will never be into this chapter of your life where you get to be a hero and I am left to be a villain. I'll make sure I either end you or end me.

So much for what, right? So much for what, so much rage for what, so much pain for what? You tell me.

I am telling you things that you hope aren't true, I wouldn't be able to tell you it. I'm not special, I'm not good, I'm not nice.

My biggest mistake in my life was letting you know that feelings come from within.