hellishdevotee - Tumblr blog

[hellishdevotee]

do you think of me like i think of you?

[hellishdevotee]

“If I relaxed my body now, I'd fall apart. I've always lived like this, and it's the only way I know how to go on living. If I relaxed for a second, I'd never find my way back. I'd go to pieces, and the pieces would be blown away. Why can't you see that?”

— Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

[hellishdevotee]

My heart is too big for my chest. It rattles and fractures my ribs with each forceful beat. Adding pressure from within, and with each passing minute until I get the urge to claw myself apart.

The wind gets kicked from my lungs and i heave, I hack and I cough and I wonder if I’ll find the words in the acid that was once in my stomach and now lays on the floor.

There’s nothing there of course. Nothing but the acrid taste on my tongue.

[hellishdevotee]

My heart holds back a roaring ocean of emotions. Or rather, it’s supposed to. Rather I feel as if I’m drowning from the inside out. The water of my emotions is closing my airways and I’m left to suffocate and choke on the words I cannot find.

I sputter and gasp, I become delirious and I lose myself. I don’t know who I am, I can’t find joy no matter where I look. I feel a burden, I feel unloved.

I don’t know what I feel anymore but none of it is positive. God please can’t someone hold my hand and speak for me? Must I handle myself on my own? I can’t do this. Please just hold me.

[hellishdevotee]

Take the love you claim to still have for me and rot with it. I don’t want a love so neglectful.

[hellishdevotee]

Your ghost haunts me despite the fact that you’re alive and well. I need a priest to save me from my thoughts, these feelings.

Please, god. I’ll repent if you just stop making me feel this way. I’m begging.

[hellishdevotee]

Sometimes, I am just existing peacefully and resting. But suddenly, my chest sinks and I start to ache.

Nothing is wrong with me physically.

It’s my emotions that are the problem. I can’t find the off switch.

[hellishdevotee]

My agony is feels as if it’s a divine punishment made just for me. It’s cruel to feel so intensely and yet it’s all I’ve ever known.

I am an uncouth, foul little thing and my sins make me unlovable and unworthy of everything. I was never pure to begin with.

[hellishdevotee]

When it comes to real life and grief, the first will always mock the second. Proving how unmovable and cruel it can be.

Life will give you something to love dearly, and when you lose it, it taunts you for being stubborn to let go.

[hellishdevotee]

Rage does lift me, but not for long. I wasn’t meant to feel that way for so long and now all that’s left is defeat. Grief. Longing.

They stay under lock and key though, I learned my lesson long ago and will sit quietly and take what I’m given.

[hellishdevotee]

And I still found her beautiful, regardless of her true name. I thought this anger biblical in a sense, and I will continue to think the same even with my grief.

[hellishdevotee]

I tell myself that chapter of my life is over and that it’s foolish to reread it. I don’t dare think of the fact that I wouldn’t need to, I know it by heart.

[hellishdevotee]

My lord,

i worry my love is unfit for consumption, and as such, I’m to be devoured as a substitute. I fear there will be nothing left of me in the end.

As it’s not meant for harvest, I feel it cannot be gifted either. This surplus will rot with time, and then I will too, from the outside in.

Do I throw away what I’ve toiled over? Do I salvage it? How am I meant to decide this all on my own, with a farm full of love, yet no real consumers?

[hellishdevotee]

Lord I am sorry to appropriate all that comes with the worshipping of you.

I do not mean to disrespect. I know we do not talk.

I know I am nothing like those girls who have ribbons in their hair and dresses that go down to their knees. Those girls, who hold their rosaries tight in their grasp when it’s not dangling from their neck. I am nothing like them. I am not soft, rather I am blemished, and broken.

I do not have unwavering faith in you, I don’t turn to anyone when in desperate need of guidance. I have shunned you and yet I steal the elements I find comfort in.

I take your beaded rosaries and don them, hoping they make me look softer, smaller. Thinking that if I wear your symbol, I too will have otherworldly resolve, praying i’ll be graced with the strength I can never seem to have.

Despite my indiscretions, maybe you can bless me with the knowledge I need to not be drowning in my turmoil.

Or maybe me feeling this way is your version of a punishment, for turning my back on you.

We both know I deserve nothing good. We know that I’m nasty and no amount of crosses and holy water can change the fact that I’m the devil in disguise.

I’ll never really look angelic or pure, for I am foul and my horns are only hidden by my hair.