nonsensical-insanity - Tumblr blog

[nonsensical-insanity]

I obsess over the romantic gestures I desire, ones I’ll never experience.

Melodies composed solely for my ears, solely for me to admire.

Poetic words of an undying passion, a will to follow me through the gates of hell if I so wished.

For my smile and adoration to be the only simple reward sought.

I want to be deserving, even despite my flaws.

To be loved even as an old hag or a vengeful soul.

For my broken cries to be accepted and comforted.

At my worst or at my best, I’ll be considered art.

A masterpiece to protect, but kept proudly on display.

I want to be a muse, truly and deeply.

Never dying, forever preserved by a love that inspires creation.

[nonsensical-insanity]

I hate the idea of forgiveness.

It’s always been preached to me to forgive others no matter what.

To turn the other cheek.

Even when they’ve caused me countless sleepless nights,

Even when a drag of my cigarette can put me right back in the terror they brought,

Even when the taste of vomit and flesh sticks to my tongue like a slimy grime,

I must forgive.

“They apologized.

They didn’t mean to.”

Even when I cried while trapped underneath them,

Even when I felt pain erupting through my body with every movement,

Even when I tried to hit and fight and they kept on,

I must forgive.

“I wasn’t thinking.

I didn’t know what I was doing.”

So I must forgive,

Even when I can’t forgive myself.

[nonsensical-insanity]

My self hatred is a fetish for you.

You get off to me clinging to you, as you are the only lifeline I have.

My insecurities, my dependency, my fears.

They make me belong to you.

They make you important.

So no matter who you are, no matter what you do,

I would still be obsessed with you.

I cry, I beg, I scream.

You do nothing but give me empty words that sound nice.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Marry me. Marry me.

Lazy lies to try to put out the flames of my emotions.

All of that instead of changing.

Because that isn’t what you want.

I’m the doll that you play with as you please, at any time or in any state.

The doll that can’t leave your side.

You want to keep me that way.

If I speak up, you cry.

All because I don’t let you rip me apart in docile silence.

Do you feel any real remorse?

Are you even really human?

Or just a doll, like me?

An empty vessel with nothing else.

An insecure thing that craves the validation of anyone that’ll give you it.

Do you cry because I shatter your reality? That I remind you you’re disgusting instead of just accepting it?

Does it make you think my dependency is fickle and running on fumes? That I might not actually need you forever?

Are you also scared of being alone?

[nonsensical-insanity]

A domestic life haunts me.

That’s not to say I don’t want one, quite the opposite.

But it taunts me when I see others living that life.

A woman happily cooking meals for her family, a caring husband and an adorable daughter.

The longing I feel for that pains my heart.

I’d watch these sweet videos, saving the recipes for later use.

Believing, one day, I’d have what I saw.

A family.

People to cook for, who’d appreciate me more than anything else.

I feel undeserving of that happiness.

I’m not meant to have that, no matter what I do.

I simply cook just for myself, just out of necessity.

Nothing more.

[nonsensical-insanity]

I hear the roaches that scurry all over my walls.

Whispering, screaming in my ears.

A never ending cacophony cradling me into madness.

They sound a lot like you.

I wonder about them in my smoke filled haze.

Will these creatures devour me as I decay on my bed?

Will my lifeless body be reduced to a feast for them?

Much like it was for you?

[nonsensical-insanity]

It’s a filth that never goes away.

No matter how hard I scrub, how hot the water.

I could skin myself and it would stay,

A thick grime clinging even to my revealed muscle tissue.

I could carve and carve, burn and burn.

Nothing will ever rid me of it.

That impure feeling that corrupts my very soul–

Evidence of a defilement for only your sweet little pleasure.

The stench of rotten grain and discounted rejection reeks from my body.

I can’t help but wonder if others can smell it too.

Do they see the filth stuck to my body like I do?

Do they see the shame in my eyes?

[nonsensical-insanity]

What scares you? What makes you uncomfortable?

The dark? Heights? Uncanny behaviors? Water?

What about movie theaters? Skating rinks? Playgrounds at night? The town you grew up in? Your own room?

Do you constantly feel cold concrete on your skin, scraping away at a few layers?

Do you know how painfully hot another’s hands can be on your cold bare skin–

A burn that feels like a branding?

Does carpet burn still vividly sting for you even years later?

Have you ever felt a fear so primal you no longer felt human?

Have you felt like prey before?

Like it didn’t matter if you fought, ran, or even played dead?

No matter what, you are doomed to be devoured?

Can you imagine how terrifying it is to be prey?