rainmothseventeen - Tumblr blog

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Probably my favourite movie ever.

For the first day of Pride month, here’s a shoutout to maybe the most underrated LGBTQ+ movie of all time.

As You Are, 2016. Technically isn’t rated, but if it was, definitely be rated R. This movie is very angsty, and follows three teenagers in the 90s. As You Are covers a lot of hard topics, such as abuse and death. This movie was very emotional, and I had a lot to think about after watching it. Though I wish more queer movies were happier and less serious, As You Are was still a 10/10 masterpiece. The movie also stars Charlie Heaton, who plays Jonathan in Stranger Things, and Amandla Stenburg. As You Are is on YouTube for free, so if it seems like something you’d be interested in, I highly, highly, highly recommend it.

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Don't kill yourself, please.

If you’re suffering from depression and are looking for a sign to not go through with ending your life, this is it. This is the sign. We care.

If you see this on your dash, reblog it. You could save a life.

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You convince yourself pain is art because it means you've achieved something. It means you have your worth of existence. If God came to Earth you'd have a tarnished offering for him. He'd smile and tell you he doesn't accept bribes. You take your pain and throw it into inky darkness.

You have a dream. In your dream he hands you a knife and tells you to wake up. You cut out his heart and eat it and you want to feel guilty but all you can do is cry. Tears swallow you. Their long, icy fingers hold you as they kiss along your neck. To be nothing enough to be something.

Waking up hurts. I do it to myself. We're like stones being turned to sand by the ocean. If I fell over I'd keep falling. I never want to see the back of your head disappearing again. The blue isolation of watching you live while dying more then I've ever lived alive. I'm pulling you through thickets, holding around your wrists. I feel the strength you imagine you hold as you atrophy yourself. I'm living through dreams and all I can say is I'm sorry I dug myself a hole in the ground, maybe you can fill it in, maybe I'll be nothing enough by then.

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Painting my phone case because hurting myself is bad (:

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Tell me you're still there. Like sitting on wet grass as the sun sets into the ash coloured sky, it only turns yellow and you feel as if the sky deserves a richer colour but it's yellow nonetheless. I think I just wanted to be loved in a way I understood.

I want to be burried. I want to burn. I want to burn to feel the flames engulf me. I break things to watch them break. I hurt people to hurt them. I don't have anything inside of me but water. If I opened myself it'd pour out my mouth, if I closed it it'd keep seeping out though the gaps. No one should have to love a body of water.

The sky does deserve better. It deserves to be blue. It deserves to be what's considered beautiful. Grey skies are so gentle but they hold such an emotion. And I hope one day they let it out.

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Dear Citrine,

Citrine,

Forget me not but I don't love you like I thought I would.

I love you but I think I just wanted to be loved.

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STOP. DON'T SCROLL. READ THIS TO SAVE LIVES IN GAZA. Below are some VETTED campaigns to support Gazans. These people have been experiencing an active genocide for almost a full year. Donate and share widely.

(may 27th)

Save a displaced Gazan Family (@ranibra) - Rania is married with five children, her husband needs medical care. She is now responsible to save her children. Help them evacuate.

Support Fahmi and his family (@fahmiakkila) - Fahmi's life has been turned completely upside down, and he now finds himself responsible to save his parents, sisters, & brothers - 7 members.

Save the Maliha family (@dinamaliha) - Dina wants to save her mother, two sisters, and three brothers. The family lost contact with their father when the genocide started. They desperately need to get to Egypt.

Save Firas' family (@firassalemnewacccount @prosolitudeeee) - Firas is a father of two children, a 10-month-old boy and a two-year-old girl, who are in need of safe haven in Egypt.

Help Husam and his family (@husamthaher) - Husam desperately needs to save himself, his wife, and 3 young children.

Help Nader's family to evacuate from Gaza (@nadershoshaa) - Nader and his family, consisting of six members, are currently displaced in the south; help them evacuate and survive.

The Shamaly family wants to survive (@daee571989) - Help save 15 kids and their family, who are living a horrifying active genocide.

Ahmd needs urgent evacuation (@ahmd-iyd) - Ahmd has lost his livelihood to this genocide, and needs funds to help his family evacuate and rebuild their life.

Help evacuate Hani's family (@skatehani) - A dear friend, and a Palestinian skater trying to evacuate 10 members of his family; he has lost his father to injustice.

Help Iman’s family find safety (@imaneyad) - Iman has a family of 7 who need to find safety.

Help save Youssef's family (@bba3lo @mahmoud7878) - Ahmed Baalousha wants to save his wife, his two sons, his daughter, as well as his parents and siblings.

Support Ruba and Amal's family's urgent evacuation (@rubashaban @amalshabn) - Ruba and Amal's family are lacking the basic necessities of life; they have an elderly father who desperately needs to be evacuated for medical care.

Save little Yusuf and his family (@ahmednabubake) - Yusuf is in an intensive care unit fighting for his life in Gaza; he needs urgent evacuation alongside his family.

Help Omar evacuate (@omarsobhi) - Omar is a 20 year old Palestinian student who wants to save himself and his family from this genocide.

Help Belal and his family to evacuate from Gaza (@alaajshaat) - Belal has lost too much to this war and needs to support himself and his family.

Do not scroll past this list without contributing. This list makes it easy for you to find a fundraiser to support. Choose at least one. Your contribution will save lives. If you cannot donate, share these campaigns.

FIND MORE CAMPAIGNS HERE

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A missing letter

I love you. And it feels so wrong, like signing off a suicide note. Like I'm about to end it all. And I am so guilty I burn. I feel alone and it's such a living feeling. It's stagnated. I don't really mean half the things I say out loud. I doubt anyone does. I don't think anyone would love me any less of I was dead. I laugh next to you, I make a pained noise and turn away. I make a series of moves that you can't follow, can only watch, because you have far too much to live for. I fall through floors, I cough and rot on the hardwood floor and you walk away because the air smells like cadaverine and sulfur. I am a lexophile when I need it. When I need things.

I need to be violent towards something and most of the time I'm all I have. I turn the gun on myself because I'm hungry and I want something I can hold and say look at this, look at the torn up flesh, look into my brain and fix it, I beg you. Comatose me. Do something, don't just look at me like that. Throw my body in the river so I can become numb and cold and broken. Because I am numb and cold and broken and I think you could always tell that you'd never really want to pull me out.

Self pity won't save me. Neither will suicide. It might save you though. I'm sorry for getting in the way, I suppose. I could put the lights out. Or I could drown in them. It's like I'm choking and I must look so pathetic but it's not like I didn't cut myself to pieces the moment the guilt boiled over into rage. My eyes hold a certain fear too, like a deer that knows it's being stalked. But I'm also the wild dogs. I'm circling myself, digging in my claws.

Bear the weight of everything you've ever done. Bury me in the sand so the ocean can wash over me.

People get sick and weak and they break and break and break and some of them feel bad for it. I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to put the bottle down. I don't want to hurt anyone but myself. Just let me hurt myself. It's better for everyone if I get it out in a way that's safe for other people. Don't tell me you're scared of me. Please don't tell me you're scared. I let you hold my heart for this.

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Been having some really bad nightmares lately. I wake up just shaking and hyperventilating and it's like I'm being choked. I also keep hearing people in the house when I'm home alone but I think I'm just paranoid. I haven't been able to focus properly to write and also I gave up on the story I was writing I'm sorry. Also I burnt my left ring finger, oopsie.

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The dancer and the flowers

And the dancer, as she turns, takes a shaken breath. The music box asks her what she wants and as she continues turning to the dulcet piano, her porcelain form perfect and unmoving, she sighs.

“I want to be delicate.”

The music box plays on, “you’re made of porcelain, darling, you are delicate.”

“I wish to be delicate like a flower.”

“What kind of flower? There are just so many.”

The dancer shuts her eyes, continuing to pirouette.

The music box begins “perhaps a heliotrope. Purple symbolises elegance. And the flower itself devotion and love.”

The dancer looks down and hums. “Those words are very pretty but that’s not what I meant.”

“Or maybe a rhododendron then. They symbolise strength,” the music box continues, “and the pink would match your dress.”

The dancer laughs solemnly, “I’m not that strong.”

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I dare say I’m the only person you know.”

“Perhaps. It still stands.”

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not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe]

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I feel so overwhelming guilty and shameful it physically hurts sometimes. That gnawing, consuming, creeping guilt that washes all over you. Guilt is a constant but it's worse at times. Loneliness too. I'm so lonely it's pathetic, honestly. This isn't even poetry I just feel like shit. It's like I've lost something I've never even had and I'm trying so desperately to find someone to fill that but everyone I try to put into that place falls out and it never works and I swear I end up crying and broken and praying to a God I hardly believe in that I'll get better but I never do. I should try to sleep, sorry mum.

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Bouquets of marigolds

I am my father's son. I hold some sort of anger and with it in my hands I use it as a blade. Do I turn my knife on myself? Do I draw it from its too small sheath and hold it out in front of me, shaking violently like a scared child?

I see myself sitting at the train station staring up at the greying sky. The train is so very powerful. It's throwing itself forward towards me, hurtling down the tracks like a blizzard or crashing waves.

Bouquets of marigolds I can't grip onto because in all love there is despair and I feel so desperate, so filthily hungry for the affection I'm so afraid of. I have never been loved, not properly, and now I find myself so afraid of it. I don't think I can ever love anyone right, I scare them, I worship them like a God and it hurts so much more when they abandon me.

I turn back to the window, a little box to let the hot air in, a little box to cry out of where only the birds can see you burn your hands on your cigarettes. Burn me down. Watch me smile as you take your gun to my temple. I'm sorry I couldn't learn how to hold the flowers. You keep saying you love me but you don't, not properly, and I'm afraid, and I'm pointing a knife at you and shaking. And you can't look at me, can hardly breathe, and so I wake away. The knife keeps falling out of the sheath. Spilling out of my mouth covered in blood and lying in my lap.

I want to tell you there is no God and once my train comes in leaving you. I want to tell you that I don't love you. I can barely speak. I want to pull my knife out and stop fucking shaking. I can't. And I'm afraid.

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7 deadly sins friendship bracelets (:

I have friends (:

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Dulcet suicide

We're lying in a ditch on the rain soaked side of the road and I don't tell you about my dream last night where you were holding my head in your hands and I was crying the ocean and we started drowning but you kept holding me. We died slowly and in excruciating pain. But you kept on holding me. I don't think you really love me any less than before, you loved me with a certain caution, like I was a venomous beast, and as I howl on the hill I hear nothing. Not even an echo. Like the sky absorbed my words entirely. Like I never even said them out loud.

Sometimes I'm a terribly lonely person. Sometimes I feel the air far too much, meloncholically cold, the sky's white eyes staring down. It's a calm sonnet. It's a sobering night, your arms sober me is what I'm trying to choke out of my throat. Desperation can be so violent, it can throw you around the room, bite your tongue and blood comes out, it lies dry and lifeless on the ground. I kick it like a stone and it rolls away from me.

As you stand there, sleeves burried in the burning sand, I wish to be you. The picture of the sunrise through blinds, the soft swish of jackets dancing, the slide of cotton socks on polished wooden floors. Grazed hands and grass stained shirts so we'll take them off and let the floor take us, cold and hard against my back. Split me open with a knife. Hit me. Hit me anywhere, leave bruises like cigarette burns and kiss them better until the sun sets again. You didn't deserve to be loved by someone like me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. And I couldn't make you love me so just look, just look in my eyes and tell me we're not dying yet. Tell me we'll never get old. Tell me it's not over.

The sky deserves to be blue but it's grey.

No one cares about the pills I tried to swallow, tried to choke down, slip them down my throat like meat. I have suffered for you. I have waited for you. You still keep me waiting and I'm afraid you'll decide to let go. Take the tree shedding it's bark until it's bone white again only to carve into the next layer. I hold onto your neck my arms becoming limp, begging you nevertheless not to leave. I'm slipping back into meloncholic laughter. My chest burns. Everything burns eventually. The trees quiet their cries. I wait for a train that stopped coming. I wait.