dsksjshaoibskkahb - Tumblr blog

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

What happened to the little girl who played in fields, who follow at her parents heel.

today, many years ago, i would be asleep; a long day spent in the sun. maybe i played jn the park. today i cant even imagine smiling without some sort of tightness to it. i cannot imagine a true happiness that girl felt every day.

she must have been a ray of sunshine, i cant seem to picture her. does she stand in the present, mourning her future as i mourn my past? does she feel empty when she sleeps night, looking into a shallow, painfully empty world?

i want so desperately. to watch her one last time; one last glimpse of what i should have grown to be

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

his holy satisfaction

all mine; he breathes my name

adam

my heart flutters,

my sides ache

is this what you foresook?

my careful touch?

my free will is to tend to you

all i ever wanted, good lord

your bliss, your weak approval

press your lips to the crown of my head

you must declare me, good

to be annointed is to be loved

reach your fingers past my mouth

slip between my teeth, feel them graze

nip

your fingers, spit slick

you know what i need, lord

and ill beg, if you want me to

take of me what you need

what you want

but please. let me finish

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

shes bright in my head

a lense flair,

something beautiful, just out of reach

there is a picture

of her smile,

faded to beloved memory

light around the edges

i never knew

that smile,

without the fuzzy edges.

she turned her back

that helpless wife

perhaps she was afraid

of the pillar watching after her

ten years old

intimate with hurt in a new way

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

all i have ever done is follow at your heel

please stop yelling,

daddy

im just doing what you told me to do.

i am your isaac;

the weight of your shadow is too heavy for me to bear.

i am not my brother

your expectation will ruin me.

no matter hiw much blood i spill

i will never deserve

to be my fathers son

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

i dont understand why people are so mindlessly cruel.

"i simply steal from local businesses"

"i dont give my seat up for elder/disabled. its my seat"

why do i feel ashamed to be a good person. i think i was raised in selflessness. to be humble. to respect

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

im so cold

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

when your card declines at therapy and they bring out the online friend you thought would take care if you

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

pink floyd on the radio. nightime in new jersey. the window feels cold against my face. listening to my mother and brother in the front seat.

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

see my face, goddess, and wipe your hands across it. the bridge, between the two bleeding pools, dips right where your thumb should rest. curl your nails over my cheek, run them over my lip.

this body was only meant for you to see. but even then, it is made of ash.

be gentle with your touch. break me wholeheartedly. i fall away with the wind anyway.

ALWAYS THROWING ME OFF WHEN SHE TELL ME DADDY FUNK ME!!

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

ii am 7 and after dinner time was when ny parents were nit ti be annoyed. it was sasier to hurt, easier ri nake them lash out. im a. little scared of breathing.

there were other scenes of quiet time. foing out in piblic. goinf out with ny mothers friends. going iut witht mt fathers friends. anywhere with okder people. anytime in the summer. or winter. i watch myself live experiences. cold.im llaying minecraft with my friends.i estch rhem play minecraft

wuiet time.. my hands are ti cold. anf my feet

i dont want to move

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

im fourteen at youth group in the upstairs room with the 2010s youtuber soundproofing foam. sitting in the corner watching everyone else talk. ive spent a long time attatched ti the three, four dods in my life. i watch them from afar. i eagerly await their approach, but they only ever approach for the entertainment. once i satisfy, or st least, make them uncomfortablr, they leave me be like theyd wanted nothing to be with me at all

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

there is something between a loaded gun and the spot between the dogs eyes. soft and fashioned in the shape of the barrel. dont miss.

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

i ponder the days where i truly believed in my faith. if there is a god then why have i been foresaken? his people say that i am a sinner. i dont understand what i did to be so set apart from them.

im never comfortable in my body. im being choked by a fat that is not there. the sensation deadly.

if there is a god then it is in my bedroom. it is kneeling, at my feet and it is subject to the mercy of my hand. it does not belong.

we know this.

a mirror

i am what god had snuffed from existence. a dying weed. an injured mouse. the setting sun.

there are thousands of them

god and i stand, naked, alone in a room

he wants to kill me.

despite everything, i would let him.

we both know these things.

he holds me in his hands anyway

feels the acid burn like no other

smells the rot and gore

he says i am his

but i am vermin

there is a level of intimacy that even sex cannot reach. it is underneath the skin, nestled in the meat. you must access it with your hands. you must tear away the skin.

teeth sunk deep into flesh.

god and i are alone in a room.

there is something righteous that stands before me.

something soft and warm.

i bite that, too. i must draw blood in the name of my god. drive in the stake. pierce the lamb.

a hunk of meat

my teeth dig in. drooling, panting. a

side wound

red and inflamed.

three days he smelled like bloat, Jerusalem sun.

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

i am ashamed

i am zo young that inwant to cry, i can almosf feel myself crying. si and seven. maybe younger. going for walks in parks and wood traild. i am young inna way that makes me feel sixk. vunerable jn a way that i don't know how to explain. sitting quietly in strangers house, tense, all too aware. of the conversation my father is having because it isnt meant for my ears. some day, when i feel more confident, i will listen, and cut in with occasional jokes. i look up at my father and feel my heart sink. the look on his face that promises horror.

he never hit me or anything. but god did he yell. i think he must have hit me at some point (spankings not included. everyone got spanked ad a kid) because i am so terrified of him. why else would i be so scared? i think

i think that i wish he hit me more. him yelling at me, making me so scared last a long effect. but i have no. visual evidence. nothing to bare to my loved ones and tell them, "this is the most fragile pieces of my heart. i am letting you see me at my worst." thats what this...journal is for.

i wish someone loved me

there is a concept a love but i dont think i quite get it. i am a twice dead child. my parents only love the idea of me they have jn their head. i hope my brother loves who i grew up to be. a shaky imitation of him. i wonder how long will it be before my partner realizes she deserves better. that i am shit under her shoe.

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

my father talks to me like a victim

the sword

like a dead or dying child at the scene of anccident

hendrix

i feel safe and i feel loved

but not as the child of my company

my father and i, it feels as though were old friends. as though wed suffered beside.

bach

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

sitting in my mothers kitchen, shirt staind and snacking on pretzeps beside her. i am seven years old. my shirt and pants are big, and im tired and not really concious anymore. she is seen shaking jer head in dissapointmemt. already the shadow of my brother.

i do not know what dissasociation feels like. i am in my body but looking on as if it was fading away from me. low droning noise. i am sevrn snd i am 18 and i am 30, happy, far away. wishing that i didnt come with all these defaults that separate me from my brother.

i am seven but already i am loved, just not loved the same as my brother. quiet babysitter. rain. silence. i am at peace. my mother thinks i do not know how she is dissapointed in me.

the lesser brother. the sister. the rooms i was never alloaed to be in. a cold, soft bubble of the creek behind us, the pleasent rush of a waterfall behind. cold, cold river. the air is brisk. the house is red. crisp fall leaves on old, woody walking trails. through fields, through woods, over bridges. i am seven. i am seven.

i am ceying. my mother is cryinf. she thinks she failed me. i know she hates me. she hates ans is sick of who i am. she cries when she thinks im not looking. when she thinks shes out of earshot. she hates me. my dad calls. he spesks to me lile im a startled animal. or a dying friend he lost touch with.

ultimately what i want in a girlfriend or a wife. someone who i can trust to be 7 around. someone who can ocassionally put up caring for me like a toddler once every month or two. even less. someone who lets me quietly follow her around, someone ewho opens juice cups for me, someone who lulls me to sleep at night. but who can also still can find romantic interest in me.

i know that this is a tall order. a burden. we wouldnt have to partske in this child thing all the time. omce a monthr. or five. everh other hear. ill takr whatever i csn get.

i am 8. new jersey parks. it is just past the end of summer, wtih nippy cold days in between slightly less chilly weather. pleasant fall. colourful leaves on the ground. cold enough i almost dread the ice cream truck that runs through. new jersey is cold. i miss being 6, walking the dog with my uncle and my brother. watching them talk in silence, though i ocadsionally talk to the dog. i am freezing, hands and fsce numb. i mjss the old paths we used to take.

i need a cat. i need a dog. i need a woodburning fireplace. big windoed snd calm silence. the river. pumpkins on the doorstep. crying again. last few trips to stories before it closed for thr winter. all anyone expects me to do is folllow. i just want to follow.

[dsksjshaoibskkahb]

i do feel like im being physically tortured. it feels like my body is filled to the brim with smouldring coals and im about to explode. hot-cold over my face. i am choking on flour. the voices around me keep growing and lowering at alarming rates.-

" three people are in the room with me. one speaks with a high strung panic, and another, her husband, with a subdued and apologetic tone. the third person, my mother, speaks eith a kanic edgd. all three are locked in lighthearted conversation the entire time. however, i hear misplaced clips of them talking about me with..dissapointment. or morbid fascination. talkimg about me in low voices like they dont want me to hear.

"before she was just a little overheavy, but now,, just completely overheavy"

thosefightsphysical sound torture. the sounds are killing me. im fairly sure theyre all in on it. _ star star star star

dometimes my mom will stray away from her friends and then speak to me like a police interrigator. like she knows everyrhinf snd is taunting me with thr knowledge.

but the DOG!

im supposed to call my girlfriend tonight but im nonverbal. i dont deserve love. texting hurts my habds and phone calls hurt my ears. i dont talk to her enough. im goingnto fail her. shes such a sweet and smart person. im going to fail her. im nit wirth her time

im missing out of something