cryptic-diary

[cryptic-diary]

You've pried my ribs open, one by one moving them aside. My blood steadily drips beside us, you seen what I'm made of yet look at me the same. I wish I could hug you like this, keep you close within me. We're so similar we could be the same person either way.

[cryptic-diary]

If I were to see them off, in those cars with blinking lights of red and blue.

I do not think I could hold myself from running back to them.

There's a type of comfort in misery.

A type of contentment of the pain they cause that I could never find anywhere but in their arms.

And while I know they would never hold me gently or lovingly, only coldly or with lust clouding their mind.

At least there would be the nostalgia to console my floating mind when hands drifted too far.

[cryptic-diary]

I have drained every drop of my love.

I had refilled everyone else numerous times, that I had gone dry.

No one stayed to help me replenish, and now I find myself bitter while not recognizing the person who gifted love like it was oxygen.

[cryptic-diary]

I am made of earth.

Of tree roots tangled together to form my spine, fallen twigs making up bones and bent bark shaped for my skull.

Mud and dirt is caked onto my frame by the unexperienced hands of a child, far too young to be tasked with my creation, but old enough to know I must be tough for the world out before me.

Leaves and ferns are dragged across my drying flesh so I am rough for the even harsher environment I will exist in, I am not made to be gentle nor smooth, I will feel like dried out leaves and those who touch me will think I will crumble as such. I am brought to life through the tears that soaked into my surface. Life was given to me from the whispers of children hiding behind closed doors. Life was a gift by the tight hugs of goodbyes knowing it would be the last touch.

[cryptic-diary]

They have the illusion I am minimal effort.

I am a pet to them, not a child. I am not apart of the family, simply an accessory.

They throw toys at me as apologies because they cannot understand my words.

They can, they just choose not to hear.

[cryptic-diary]

I know I get attached too easily. But it has happened over and over. That I will get attached, consider someone family, and then they will leave. And I crumble, I turn to ash and sharp shards that bleed at every edge. And I never quite am whole again, I'm glued back together with gold, past memories, and tears. My seams are filled and smoothed out but are never gone, they never heal. I am glass and porcelain, gold and glue. And to some it makes me more beautiful, but to me I am scarred.

[cryptic-diary]

I will always pick you.

You're my sister and only family I love. No matter if you hate me or love me, you'll always be the first choice. Even if you don't believe what is happening or leave me behind.

I'm sorry I exist. You would've had a better life had I not been born, you would've had better parents and had family gatherings, you wouldn't have almost killed yourself that night or anytimes after.

My existence has pained you, whether you noticed or not.

And it breaks my soul knowing I've caused the only person who I love harm.

[cryptic-diary]

Cw; Descriptions of gore.

I want to rip my skin off. It itches in a way it didn't before you touched me, your mere fingers gripping my flesh makes me want to cease to be. I feel sick to my stomach, I want to tear that tissue off my muscles and peal my nerves from them. To dig my fingers into bloody flesh you defiled with your filth.

[cryptic-diary]

I hate how you made me.

How I miss you, that I will bleed for you and beg you to touch me again just because you made me like this. I do not wish for this. To be like this. It makes me sick, the feeling of your grip on my skin, on my hips, on my thighs, everywhere. But I cannot get enough, because it is all I know.

[cryptic-diary]

Our love is like the stars.

Not as beautiful or as mesmerizing, no. Our love is like the stars in the way that when we finally can meet, can finally adore each other. We explode into nothing. We can never meet, or our entire universe we have been building for ourselves will be smithereens before we can blink. Our love is meant to be distance, pinning for a someone which will never exist in our universe.

[cryptic-diary]

I hope. I hope that when it is my turn, I will be able to see stars as clear as the darkening edge of my vision. I hope that when the cold seeps into my clothes and into my bones, that it will comfort me as much as it cured the burns of the past before. I hope that when I take my final breath, it is of relief.

[cryptic-diary]

I am scared of ladybugs. Of their freedom, the way they can fly to any destination even when they have none. But I fear their innocence more. The way I could easily destroy it if I'm not careful. Much like you did to me, but you chose not to be careful.

[cryptic-diary]

Your love was too much, it strangled me when I went to speak about those acts you did to me. The love stabbed into me like a pin cushion, leaving dotted scars across my mind and soul. Never visible to those who didn't suffer the same. Your love was obsessive, and it hurt my frail child body trying to hold onto all that you shoved onto my shoulders. I couldn't hold up the sky, what made you think I could hold that? It ripped at my heart, and slashed my guts. I could barely think when you were too close, my wounded heart beating too fast for my rotten blood to keep up.

[cryptic-diary]

Yk I see the 'Daddy Issues make artists, Mommy Issues make authors.' Thing a little too much, and then I'm reminded of this account

[cryptic-diary]

While I was born with teeth, they were not sharp yet. I had rounded ends, as every other pup did. I was supposed to be able to depend on my elders to hunt for me, as they did my siblings. Instead I was forced out of the den, I was not yet ready to hunt. I had to sharpen my baby teeth into jagged fangs, to protect myself from those who wanted bites of my flesh.

[cryptic-diary]

I am aware I'm prey.

I've been told since I was shivering on bloody grass, my newborn shaky legs made to support my weight from the moment I took my first breath.

I just didn't realize that those who told me were the predators.

Until their teeth sunk in too close to bone and the pelt they wore to hide their claws came off.

[cryptic-diary]

I'm sorry Papa, I know you don't believe I got bit, Mama looks just like a doe as do I. But I promise she bit me, I feel her teeth lingering even if I know they aren't there anymore. I know you love her, she's the only one who stayed with you so long. I'm sorry you feel like you had to pick between us. I know I'm not worth picking, as a fawn that thinks their mother is a wolf. I swear she bit me. Why doesn't anyone believe me?