lesweetweirdo - Tumblr blog

[lesweetweirdo]

Processing my feelings through writing obscure poetry and posting it on the internet.

[lesweetweirdo]

You sit with your actions and the consequences they bring. You sit with it. You live with it. This is what you've done.

[lesweetweirdo]

The guilt of my existence is heavy. It has always been a burden I strain to bear. Nobody ever said it was going to be this difficult. There was never a warning at the beginning. I'm just here, not even by choice.

[lesweetweirdo]

No more expectations. Disappointment hurts way too much than the bliss of a pleasant surprise. No more exprctations. Because life is crueler than I'd like to believe.

[lesweetweirdo]

Paralyzed by the need for perfection, I tend to forget that I'm doing this out of love, not greatness. Life is filled with too many short moments to waste most of it trying to chase something unachievable.

[lesweetweirdo]

How would Eve — a child of innocence, created after Adam — ever know thay what she was doing was wrong?

How would she, with no concept of anything, ever realize the consequences of this one act?

How can someone without the knowledge of death ever conceptualize what that would mean?

And why should she not want to be like her creator? Her father? When all she knows was that He was this embodiment of greatness and love?

Should we really blame such innocence when she knows nothing?

[lesweetweirdo]

What is this heavy weight in my heart?

What is this horrible feeling in my throat?

It's like a whisper saying:

"I am love. This is love."

Is this really how love feels like?

So heavy,

So painful.

Like a disease I want to claw out of myself.

I love you.

It's beautiful.

It's ugly.

Horrible.

Horrendous.

Nicest person I know,

Yet you easily broke my heart.

How could you?

How could I let you?

[lesweetweirdo]

I always regret it when I open my mouth or whenever I act too loud. It's deplorable, being so comfortable with my existence when I can feel people's distaste with it.

[lesweetweirdo]

It's a tragedy that you can't save people.

You can only love them.

And I have loved too many broken people to learn this heavy truth.

Your love will never be enough to fix,

nor change,

nor conquer

unless they let you.

But broken people are still broken people,

and broken things dont believe that they are worthy of love

(I am broken, too).

So no,

love isn't always savior.

Love is just there,

weighing on your heart.

And I really wished it was enough

— enough to save you from yourself.

Yet I can only stand by at the side and love you silently.

(I wish you could see through my eyes and know all the reasons I love you)

[lesweetweirdo]

I am all rage and all blood.

All skin and all bones.

I am nothing in between.

A grotesque tapestry filled with guts

and teeth and nails and

everything that is wrong with me.

[lesweetweirdo]

She peels the orange with a knife, stabbing at the center and slicing haphazardly. And she wonders why I'm bleeding.

[lesweetweirdo]

I hope my pain brings amusement if nothing else. It can be a source of entertainment so that it won't rot inside of me. At least it can be useful that way. At least I can be useful that way.

[lesweetweirdo]

Will it always be like this? On my knees, Crying and begging for something that should be rightfully mine? I thought love was a right. Why must I endlessly perform just so I could deserve it?

[lesweetweirdo]

Maybe I just want to be something that could justify my existence.

I want to be special, so I could deserve love.

Maybe I can finally deserve love if my existence doesn't feel so meaningless.

If I wasn't such a burden, then maybe I can be loved.

I want to be easy to love.

My flaws are making it harder so.

I am difficult.

It feels wrong to desire something as great as love.

[lesweetweirdo]

I'm sick of viciously screaming

Just to be met with heavy silence

A constant reminder that no one is out there

No one will help you

You need to survive on your own

It can be a testament of your strength

It's more likely a testament to your loneliness.

[lesweetweirdo]

I always search for love elsewhere. Never in my home. Never on my own. I can't find it inside of me, Nor from the people around me. Therefore, I take and take and take With nothing to give.

[lesweetweirdo]

For a moment,

I was interesting.

And it felt like I was infinite.

I can only exist when I am seen.