writinginthenight

[writinginthenight]

I'm like a do who bit a bit to hard and now I'm in time out.

[writinginthenight]

It's not just a deep personal hate.

It's a fear.

If I fail and fail and fail, normally I can just hate myself.

And move on.

Now I have people to let down.

And I already did once.

How can I face them?

If I fail again.

[writinginthenight]

Shout out lady and her kid on the 75 this morning. That baby was sleepy and curled up next to her, and she covered her in her coat. I thought it was sweet.

[writinginthenight]

This ones really good rahh

and i cry because my love is misunderstood

by you

by them

by me

i don't have the courage to understand myself

but when i close my eyes and beg God for comfort

i am cursed with your image

laying down beside me

cooing me to sleep

a rare occurrence

i yearn to be interesting to someone

not romantically

not sexually

not platonically

wanted in some way unbeknownst to me

i long for that place between words

[writinginthenight]

I'm him.

I made him, out of myself, like any child born of the brain.

And he's me.

And I wish somone loved me in the way he loved her.

Becase she's loves like it's a privilege to kiss and hold.

He loves like he's asphyxiating.

He's born and bred of my lungs clawing at me with deep obsessive fervor.

[writinginthenight]

I can romanticize my life,

Can I pretend somone would want to read my life like a well written story?

This desire to be somthing grand.

Like trumpets and horns.

Am I anything than just another person?

Can I be somthing.

[writinginthenight]

OUGHHHGGHH this one hurts....

He laughed like you yesterday.

Memories flashed before my eyes,

Remembering the grin you had

When we danced in your garden,

And shared intimate pulses behind the trees.

He laughed like you yesterday,

The past shook me to my core,

Leaving me still,

And stuck in the moments we once had.

I still remember the day we went on a walk,

The cliff called our names,

But we had each other to pull us back.

He laughed like you yesterday,

I wanted to scream and cry.

I wanted to go back and listen to

Yours once more.

[writinginthenight]

What do I do when I'm right back to that September?

Watching it all crumble apart.

I find you in everyone I meet.

I've come so far but you still haunt the narrative.

I desperately want to hold your face,

Like a dream I once had.

Because what more can you do when all the love you held for someone never turned to hate?

What more can I do when I know I'll see you again and It won't be a dream.

What can I do?

Than despair at this beautiful and awful hope?

Another chance at disappointment,

And this time I don't know the odds.

But,

like I always have for you,

i will cast aside my ribs and lungs exposing fragile center.

What else can I possibly do?

Other than crumble apart.

[writinginthenight]

You were everything

And one day everything was gone

And I had to fill myself back up

With blood and flesh.

And now what was everything hold my face gently with a phantoms touch.

Do I dare hope to capture a little bit of you back?

Hope is dangerous.

I'm so scared

Because a dead hope is burning bright.

It would be so insulting to put it out.

[writinginthenight]

And there you were, my sweet, heart.

As you were, the sweet darling way you were.

And i knew it was a dream, a mirage.

I knew you weren’t real, that you were just a few moments just for me.

Right there. For me to see,

and hold.

For just a few seconds.

And as I took your face i knew you couldn’t know what was to come.

And as i tried not to cry and you asked what was wrong, and all i could do was savor the concept of you, the fell of your face, the way you looked.

All of us were there but you were the only thing I could look at.

And ask a dreaded question I knew the answer too.

And at least you were honest.

Even In my dreams you kept your promise.

[writinginthenight]

THIS IS SO GOOD HOLY SHIT

Whose eye is that

a red too harsh for my aesthetic

[writinginthenight]

Somewhere, in a nice suburban home, a child watches their mother fight.

Once it was a safe loving home, pictures on the fridge, awards on the shelf, the pride of the nabourhood

Now they scream about money, and finances, and economics.

Daddy speaks with sketchy men, and mommy's a forgotten ideal.

They're screaming at eachother and you wonder if mommy will be around anymore.

You watch as your home falls into disrepair, a place of fear and punishment.

A fence is built to keep any prying eyes away, or to keep them in.

And you sweet child will inherit it all.

You my darling will live to see the walls rot and the floor to sink in.

When daddy dies this wretched place will be yours

If there is anyone left to inherit this home at all.

[writinginthenight]

Yours is better I feel

And you show me you love me enough

To let me bear my teeth

And rip your skin

And scream and cry and pout and whine

I thought about that the other day

These little freakouts I'm too embarrassed to show anyone but my family

Even my family

Bouts of anger and apologies

"I'm sorry" chanted like my anthem

And yet instead of sweeping me under the rug

Like dirt they're too afraid to pick up

You hold me

And let me drip my foaming mouth on your soft skin

This disease runs through the both of us

At least there's no fear of contagion

[writinginthenight]

I’m afraid of nice people.

Be mean. Be real.

Bear your teeth so I can know if they’re sharp.

Bite me

Hurt me

Show me you can love me enough to show your nasty side.

And when I bite you back.

We'll know.

Because when the ugliest thing in the world is us.

nothing can pry us apart.

[writinginthenight]

me crashing out bc adhd affects my ability to funtion normaly.

sitting here at 250 am like bro i have been trying to clean for hours and yet here i am uagh

like vro what is wrong with me

i get up to clean up and i just stare at the floor like...

i dont know why i just cant do it

im in my childhood bedroom, pushing out teeth that wernt wiggly

or just sitting, staring at the spelling homework instead of just doing the work, for hours and hours and hours.

or singing all of hamilton while standing at the sink

"shes always doing them danm dishes"

(you dont understand how it takes me hours)

"god its like pulling teeth"

why cant you understand.

i did that.

at the ripe age of 11 i pushed out a random molar with a pen instead of cleaning my room,

id.

rather.

rip

out.

my.

teeth.

than.

clean.

my.

fucking.

room.

and its like, skyla get over it its *cleaning your room* you sound like a child! but they dont get it they dont get it I DONT GET IT.

whats wrong with me? execpt i know whats wrong with me but i cant do therse essential basic ass skills.

so its less of a whats wrong with me and more of a why cant i stop being wrong?

why would i rather suffer than pick up y meaninless items,

why would i rather rip out my own teeth, or cut myslef, or jsut take whatever consequences i get for being like this.

im just so frusterated and disapoined in myself like i still cant do this.

even writhing this is more procratination, and everymoment im not cleaning is a moment of sleep i dont get and i say ill take better care of myself but ig im gonna die at thirty from heart faluure anyways becase now im not gonna sleep so i can try to get this done to the lowest standard posible. andd then do the ten other things im supposed to do like shower and pack and just. im so messed up like i cant keep my space nice, im gross in body and habitat, i cant fucking spell, or bring myslef to do anthig at all ever becase of how fucking supid and broken i am

[writinginthenight]

I cry.

Not tears but a pull in my chest

That tears me to the ground

A tearless sob, gritted teeth.

The smell of cut wood

In the night.

And talking

Of another time

Another me.

Another you.

And the smell of cut wood

[writinginthenight]

I genially get jumpscared at this method

Hyperventilation on the gritty floor of the big stall.

I thoght I was going to pass out.

Can I say that they saved me when they were the reason I was there in the first place.

Looking at me like I was so fragile, trying desperately to calm me down.

Can you name five things you see for me?

The stall door. The sink, the toilet,the floor, your face, my backpack.

Four things you can hear?

My voice, the air conditioner, your breathing, my breathing.

Three things you like.

Clowns, drawing, you, taz

2 places you want to go.

Oregon and Switzerland.

One thing you want right now.

And I could not answer the question

The undeniable “you” scraping in my mind.

After anything I couldn’t say it.

I can’t, please a different question

You were my everything.

Look at us now.