blissofynah

[blissofynah]

Me after any interaction with my mother

[blissofynah]

To the Ones Who Didn't Listen,

I told you everything, laid it all on the line,

But my words just bounced off, leaving me behind.

I thought if I explained, things would get better, you see,

But my pleas fell on deaf ears, lost hopelessly.

They say, "Get some space," like distance is the key,

That time apart will help me think more clearly.

But they know I'm hurting, they know I need their aid,

Yet they act all superior, and offer no parade.

I just wanted kindness, a comforting embrace,

A gentle word, a smile upon their face.

Instead, their anger exploded, a furious, raging storm,

Leaving my feelings crushed, my spirit torn and warm.

They just blurted whatever, fueled by bitter spite,

Ignoring my pain, my struggle, my fading light.

"Just leave," they said, or something just as cold,

Leaving me feeling stupid, a story left untold.

It makes me feel so worthless, so utterly alone,

A problem they can't solve, a seed left sadly sown.

I wonder if true love's a thing I'll ever find,

Or if I'm doomed to wander, forever left behind.

[blissofynah]

Okay, so I'm seriously losing it. Why is it always me? Why do I feel like I have to apologize for breathing sometimes? I'm walking on eggshells constantly, watching every word, terrified of saying something wrong. And when I do say something wrong – which, let's be honest, is inevitable – I'm instantly the bad guy. I have to explain myself, justify myself, beg for forgiveness.

But when they mess up? Oh, it's "just a joke," or "I was just being honest," or some other flimsy excuse. They never seem to feel bad, never seem to need to apologize. It's infuriating.

It's not even the little stuff anymore. It's the big stuff, the stuff that actually hurts. And then I'm supposed to apologize for feeling hurt? For having a reaction? It's messed up.

I've tried talking to them. I've tried explaining how their actions make me feel, but it's like talking to a brick wall. They either ignore me or twist things around so it's my fault. It's exhausting, this constant emotional tightrope walk.

Look, I get it. People have feelings. But it's a two-way street, right? Shouldn't there be some mutual respect, some mutual understanding? Or am I just supposed to be their personal apology-sponge, absorbing all their guilt and negativity? Because honestly, I'm tapped out. I'm done.

[blissofynah]

Just finished reading "How to Make Friends with the Dark," and honestly, I'm a bit of a mess. I connected with so much of it – the struggles, the loneliness – but the lack of a happy ending... that hit hard. I relate to the characters' experiences, but I can't help but wish for my own resolution, my own moment of peace. I crave a friend, a sister, someone to lean on. When will it be my turn to find that light? When will my own story have a happy ending?

[blissofynah]

The box sits heavy, a flimsy peace,

Filled with trinkets, offering no release.

He calls it sorry, a careless slight,

Like unmade beds, or clothes not hung just right.

He minimizes, diminishes the pain,

Expecting smiles, to make amends again.

But hollow gestures, a purchased grace,

Can't fill the void, or mend this fractured space.

I wear a mask, a smile serene and bright,

Concealing anger, burning in the night.

My silence screams, a voiceless, bitter plea,

For genuine remorse, for empathy.

The gifts remain, untouched, a cold display,

Of what he offers, and what's thrown away.

A cheap atonement, a hollow, empty plea,

For forgiveness, that will never come from me.

[blissofynah]

It's strange, isn't it? How they can dismiss my experiences just because of my age. "You're too young to understand," they say. But I've seen more heartbreak, more disappointment, more raw, unfiltered reality in my teenage years than some people see in a lifetime. I've watched my parents tear each other down, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but hollow shells of what they once were. I've felt the weight of their failures settle on my shoulders, heavy and suffocating.

I tried, I really did. I tried to romanticize it, to find some beauty in the chaos, some silver lining in the storm clouds. But there's none. Just the harsh, unforgiving reality of a life that's far too heavy for a teenager. The fairy tales don't exist here. Only the cold, hard truth.

But that truth, that harsh reality, has forged something in me. A steel-like resolve, a fierce independence. It's fueled a burning desire to escape this, to build a life that's the complete opposite of this one. A life where love is genuine, where relationships are healthy, where happiness isn't a fleeting dream but a tangible reality. It's not just a hope; it's a promise. A promise to myself. A promise I intend to keep. One day, I'll look back on this, and I'll know I made it. I'll know I built a life worthy of all the pain I've endured. And I'll be happy. Truly, deeply happy. Free.

[blissofynah]

People assume youth equals ignorance. But I’ve carried a weight of understanding far beyond my years. I’ve seen enough heartbreak, enough turmoil, to know right from wrong instinctively. It’s not a learned skill; it’s a survival instinct honed in the crucible of my own family.

My childhood wasn't a fairytale. It was a masterclass in observation. I learned to read the room, to anticipate the fallout, to navigate the shifting sands of complex relationships. It wasn't easy, but it shaped me. It made me acutely aware, fiercely independent.

The image of my father… it haunts me. The man he is, the man he’s been… it fuels a burning resolve. I’ll never be like him. Never. The thought of repeating his mistakes, of inflicting that kind of pain, is unbearable. And I’ll never settle for anything less than a partner who mirrors my values, someone who understands the depth of my commitment to building a better future.

My mother… her story is a cautionary tale, a roadmap of what not to do. If I ever have children, I’ll break the cycle. I’ll show them a different way, a better way. It’s not just about avoiding the pitfalls; it’s about actively creating a life filled with love, respect, and genuine connection. It’s a promise, a legacy I intend to build, brick by painstaking brick. It's everything.

[blissofynah]

I'm drowning. Not in a dramatic, movie-style drowning, but in the everyday, insidious kind. Drowning in the constant requests, the endless needs of others that leave me breathless, a silent scream lodged in my throat. Exhaustion isn't just tiredness; it's a heavy cloak, weighing down every movement, every thought. My dreams feel like distant stars, shimmering just out of reach, mocking my efforts. Just surviving feels like climbing a mountain made of broken glass, each step a painful struggle. And the support offered? It feels like a cruel joke, a life preserver dangling just beyond my grasp as I sink deeper into the quicksand of despair. I'm not just weak; I feel broken, like a cracked vase, constantly leaking hope and strength. Is this bad luck? Am I fundamentally flawed, destined to always fall short? This isn't just sadness; it's a deep, gnawing emptiness, a cold dread that settles in my bones. The pain isn't a feeling; it's a ravenous beast, tearing at my insides, and I'm ready to succumb to its agonizing embrace.

[blissofynah]

I've been reading “how to make friends with the dark” and honestly i really like it. its hard to read tho since i relate to some stuffs that happens so it hits me hard so i taking my time reading it. life is really unpredictable and you dont know whats gonna happen next. the guilt really kills you and your conscience. im on page 226 rn hehez

[blissofynah]

i worry abt things i cannot control

[blissofynah]

💥💥

[blissofynah]

should i tell em a long ahh paragraph abt how they hate me and how much im yearning ab them n im willing to stay if they change or should i js stfu n let them be

[blissofynah]

when i wna make friends but im too shy n awkward to talk to people n i always end up leaving of ghosting them