beberiot86

[beberiot86]

[beberiot86]

I’m so numb to everything these days that things just start repeating themselves.

I’m tired, wake up. Coffee.

I’m tired, come home. Wine.

I sleep. Clean. Cook. Fight. Sleep.

I don’t fuck. I don’t argue.

The motions go.

I’m dizzy all the time.

Went to the doctor.

Drugs.

Got anything to take existence away.

She smiled.

Said I need a good nights sleep.

Sleep sounds great.

[beberiot86]

Sobriety is a bitch.

I messed up.

Bad.

Anger turned into flying fists that I do not recall

And bruises turned into the hymns of yesterday

I don’t remember a thing

I decided to get sober

I made it 5 days

The laughter and loud and roaring of family and excitement was too much

Que in vodka

I did well. One drink.

Came home, poured the one I had out

Sunday came. Sunday funday. The day of morning drinks, the day of unfiltered fun.

I failed

The lights went dim and the kids slept and here I am with my glass of six o clock, awake and attempting to find redemption.

They say the worst decisions make the best stories

Well

What if the worst decisions pave the path to exile

Or perhaps to redemption

What if those stories break you

I suppose tomorrow is a new day

Supposing tomorrows are promised

[beberiot86]

I’ve decided to stay quiet when I should be loud.

I’ve decided to stay broken with glue in plain sight.

I’ve decided I’m done with decisions.

I’ve never stopped deciding.

[beberiot86]

When the bough breaks...

I came home to a messy house and a brittle, tired body.

Did the dishes while listening to reminance of a productive day.

Pet my kitten and played with my youngest.

Bitch about the house, the kid who was left at home. who didn’t stir the motion cameras until 3. The annoyance.

The chime in, the loud that lasted to long. Shitty words that would break any young girl. The mother in me growing, protecting her baby. Fuck you. I’m tired.

The disgust felt in her different upbringing and things that she mirrors. Things she can’t possibly mean to mirror. Or is it?

The yelling your son saw, the frightened look on his face as you lash back. The justification you feel in standing your ground. Being a mother. Learning how I be, though it’s been 14 years.

This isn’t healthy.

But then, what about your hedonistic, self taught life is?

You ponder this as you hear dishes clash upstairs and slam the dryer.

Pour another glass and retreat to the porch. Reflect.

Nothing is perfect and people argue.

This is real life, real love.

But why, is still a mystery.

[beberiot86]

If you knew her and had to speak, you’d say this.

She was always smiling. Always happy. She wore her heart on her sleeve,but not in a way you would be able to call it. She was guarded in a secret way. She’d have to tell you if she really felt that way, you’d never hear what you needed to unless she wanted you to. A thousand bracelets on her right wrist, the tan line, insane. Each one had a story, no reason to remove, the past had a place in her heart, you would never understand this. They were apart of her that way, the same way the watch on her right was. Time was something she valued, but never paid attention to. She kept her own, lived in her own world, Alice, lost. And when she smiled at you, you felt it all over. If you knew her, you knew words meant everything. You would be cautious. She loved poetry and song lyrics and singing, even if it was awful. She saw beauty in the ordinary and the minut. Every moment was worth a lifetime. She would say this with a sly laugh and continue back to her cigarette and sipping on her red wine. She loved hard. In a way most people couldn’t. If she saw you, she saw you, and you were, and that was enough and you felt it. Impact is everything. I hope my someone or anyone I impacted knows my soul enough to even begin, let alone finish,what should be wrote about me when my words are gone. Pretty sure id die twice to hear that eulogy.

[beberiot86]

I go to smoke

She says “babe please don’t leave me”

I assure her I’ll be back soon

She says “ I missed you”

When I return

Her eyes wide and full of love

She lays

In my arms

Envelopes in my love

And I know

This is it

How sweet simple pleasures

Are

How sweet life can

Be

[beberiot86]

“We’re concentrating on falling apart”

Those songs that hit your heart

Those memories related to them

Those memories

They mean nothing now

I listen to the words

They don’t have the same effect

Like riding a bike

I recite them by memory

But they hold no value

Just a faint memory

Of who I used to be

That girl is gone

I don’t miss her

[beberiot86]

And all at once

I feel calm

The exhale

The quiet

A small victory in a race

I’m not running

I don’t need to “win”

Impulses

Insecurities

Fear

Wine

Read on

These aren’t my demons

This isn’t my past

But I continue

Reading the stories

I promise myself I won’t

I don’t need to

I feel freed from it

But I’m compelled to know

The things I don’t

Things that aren’t mine

A one sided truth

And so

I read

I learn

No emotion comes

I am not conflicted

I don’t speak of it

I don’t bring it up

No secrets

Because

She said “ that conversation is yours, I don’t need to know”

So I stay quiet

But feel ashamed when I reply

Ashamed of the dark inside me

We don’t talk about it

But I should stop

It’s not my truth

It’s not my place

It’s not my problem

But I’m reading

#conflict#overcomingbullshit#crazyex’s#trainwrecksinslowmotion#understanding#research#peace#selfcontrol

[beberiot86]

I told someone today

That

had lost all hope

To not find hope in another

But In themselves

A happiness

Hidden with in

Them

A place they were terrified

To go

A place that was more fearful

Than life

The love they’d prayed for

The thing they needed

But didn’t

Self love is vital

It’s hard

Addiction is hard

A disease

Find your love

Love yourself

Find your truth

It will never lead you astray

[beberiot86]

Love is...

Love is playing with your toddler nephews/son and hosting sleepovers on a Saturday night instead of going out. Love is making coffee together and stealing quiet moments. Love is grocery shopping together, coming home, waiting for your toddler to fall asleep so you can have adult talk, and then sneaking to bed for love making and those moments you ache for on your Sunday. Love is cooking together, naked, the little glances and the kisses you take while stirring pasta. Fucking over the kitchen table and the dirty whispers exchanged. Love is so good and so perfect. And it’s ours.

[beberiot86]

[beberiot86]

You’re head is on my shoulder, your face buried into my neck. I can feel your breath on my chest. I don’t know if it’s like this for everyone, but I am so whole right now. So much love is enveloped in “going to bed”, and it’s not sexual. But it is. It’s religious,even. I love you so much it’s unimaginable. Like I was made for this, like it’s the reason I’m here. I’ve seen so many women, and felt nothing, but when I look at you, it hurts. I love you more than words can describe. It’s overwhelming. Laying here with you, in our bed, in our safe place, I’m home and happiness is an understatement.

[beberiot86]

It’s funny how, when you ask someone to stay away they present themselves otherwise. How they send your mate emails, but claim transparency. It’s funny how people lie, and contraindicate themselves. You read their secrets. You see their motives. It’s funny how they reply with one word emails in response to you, but defend themselves one sidedly to the public. It’s funny how right and heard you can be in being scattered brained, or let’s face it, drunk, in your responses. It’s funny how none of this matters, but is still a good “bathroom” read at work. It’s funny how you used open ended thoughts in your words, but they were taken to heart, personally. It’s funny how you meant all this to happen, and how you realize your experience and witt has taught you well. What’s funny is, it’s not funny. You feel unkind, you feel not at home in speaking your truth because it’s hurtful to another human. You owe this person nothing and see that their mental health is not well. You’ve been there, you’ve overcome your demons, And still, you laugh.

[beberiot86]

That tomorrow i cant touch

And one day ill wake up next to you And snuggle up close as i breath you in But i wont linger. Ill get up before you My bare feet on the hardwood The floor The one we insisted on refinishing even though it was perfect, distraught, and ugly as it was. Ill creep into our kitchen The one where we make the best memories. The one where we replaced the cabinets and spent hours debating over faucets And ill put on the pot. The one that will start our day And you’ll stumble in all swollen faced and bright eyed And wrap your arms around me and whisper how you wish we could waste the day in bed And we’ll fall into our routine And into each other And fight over the mirror Even though there’s room for two And you’ll remind me to call the pharmacy And ill ask you to grab the trash And we’ll find ourselves walking to the car together And steal that kiss that finishes with have a good day Some dreams are so mediocre Some are far fetched Mine are of you And everything in between

[beberiot86]

"grown up"

12 hours Followed by 12 more My body aches, but i dont stop I can't I have a racing mind and a fiery soul Push past Med pass Light conversation Skipped lunches Anxiety Fear Education Fights An ovation Learning through others loved ones This is my day... I dreamed about being here That place between the exit and the highway where i would hold my eyes tight and pray for strength and fight back tears in ancipation My way to accomplishment I saw it I saw it everyday But i never dreamed of what it would be What i would be. Growing up old Living young Living Living Living I cant wait to see where it takes me I cant wait to be me

[beberiot86]

It’s not that I don’t love you it’s the sound of glass shattering and my mom drunkenly stumbling into my room face dripping crimson leaving the floor a vast sea of blood and it’s the nasty names falling from my father mouth and tears falling from my mothers eyes and the bruises littering her body and the blood, so much fucking blood. It’s not that I don’t love you it’s the time my older sisters boyfriend broke up with her and she didn’t leave her room for six days because getting out of bed was just too much, she nearly went to the hospital on day six, I think he took her will to live with him when he left her. It’s not that I don’t love you it’s the week my best friend spent at the mental hospital because her girlfriend fucked her ex. They think she was trying to end her life but I think she was trying to fill the hole in her heart with a bottle of prescription pills, I spent the next month watching her break her teeth on cheap liquor bottles and turning her body into a canvas with a twist, you see the paint was red and the canvas was her wrist. It’s not that I don’t love you it’s that when the first boy I fell in love with told me he never loved me I chased two bottles of pills with some liquor and spent the night throwing up everything inside me but my love for him, a week later the “nice” lady at the mental hospital asked me why I wanted to die, I told her I didn’t want to die at all I just wanted to feel something other than the pain of him leaving. It’s not that I don’t love you it’s that time I got a call from the ICU because my cousin was in a coma, the doctors told me they had to shock his heart to bring him back, when he was finally stable and could have visitors he told me she left him so he tied off his arm and shoved a needle into his veins because somehow that hurt less than the knife she shoved in his back when she left him. It’s not that I don’t love you it’s that I do…

it’s not that i don’t love you /// trippyvibes1969 (inspired by extrasad)

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