saturnsfavouritemoon - Tumblr blog

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

“Sometimes, the strongest people in the morning are the people who cried all night.”

— Book of prosperity

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

i love studying. i love writing. i love reading. i love learning languages. i love doing mathematics. i love wandering over some particular sum and trying to come up with formulas to solve it. i love physics. i love biology. i love chemistry. i love history. i love literature. i love learning.

not to achieve the perfect grades ever. but it just amazes me that there's so much to know and learn and write and read about in the universe. my curiosity wouldn't get enough of it.

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

“You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.”

— Ernest Hemingway

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.

and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.

there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.

i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

a small child came into the café today and asked to buy a chocolate truffle. he tapped a credit card on the reader and it did not go through, mainly because it was not a credit card but in fact a junior cinema pass. i gently explained he couldn't use that to buy things in shops and he looked so gutted that i was like "...but just this once you can have it for free, don't tell my boss though" he said thank you and walked out with his truffle and as he went i heard him chuckling to himself and saying "yes..... yes!!!!!" like the sickos comic

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

Miss you now. Forever.

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

Y'all I got myself a stalker :3

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

I watched someone eating a mango yesterday and as they moaned into the bite I thought of you. The way you used to enjoy every tiniest slice of life all the time. Always open mouthed and ready to swallow the world whole. I wanted us to work. I swear I did. Somewhere there's another me who doesn't struggle to get out of bed, cooks dinner that doesn't taste burnt, who smiles when you call her pretty and looks into your eyes while making love. She says she loves you without letting those words become the spoon that cores her stomach and leaves her raw. People never leave us you know. And know this because I don't want to be your friend but your name has stayed in between the silvers of my teeth and once in a while I can hear it whistle out when I grasp. Isn't it strange? How someone can be everywhere and nowhere at the same time? And how we never think too much about it until it's the only thing we can remember from our dreams?

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

It’s 2:43 AM, and I am an island. Yearning for bridges again. I know so little. I know a tree is a wound of the earth.

I know wound has its remembering. I know my mother was an independent woman and then she turned inward, giving in and herself the way I imagine, a star dies. As a girl, I was so hungry for things to be right. Can things ever be right? I saw a video on internet about children Stack on top of each other like pieces of rubble with the skin burned off. When I paid my Wifi bill and sold my labour by the clinic. Can I ask something is anything scared anymore? The smell of the rain or the glass jar filled with coins my grandma used to use as the door stopper? The sea? Hands empty, I am asking for no small thing-. Just give me meaning in the shape of this loneliness. Make the world a mirror and make me patient.

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

writing a garbage essay feels like you’re the cow who gave birth to the two headed calf. in the morning, my professor will wrap him in newspaper and dissect him on a cold operating table. but here he is alive, under the pale glow of my computer screen. he is beautiful. there are twice as many logical fallacies as usual.

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

From Rose Beardmore's chapbook, Orchard, available from Bottlecap Press!

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

*We Become What We Fear*

I am staring at my eyes in the mirror as the knife I'm holding between my palms cutting my fingers in a way which reminds me of the calm that comes before storm. As the blood starts dripping on the floor, the memory of the boy who used to call me his home, fades. At this point, nothing is more satisfying than watching the redness spreading all over the white shirt I'm wearing. I have read about the violence that comes from suffering quietly on Google. It said the desperation to feel turns humans into monsters. And right now the eyes I have been staring at, have started screaming emptiness. I close them as I feel the knife goes deeper into my skin. At this moment, my auditory nerves are engaged in seeking the elusive origin of slow growls that pervades the stillness in this room. The seldom scratching of claws on the rib cage reminds me of how I met the monster under my bed when I was fourteen. The growl gradually turns louder almost cracking the walls. As I open my eyes, I see it right there, in the reflection, holding the knife with bloody hands.

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

*Small Talk*

You're telling me, how you can’t remember the last time you cried and that your parents are getting old and when you were fourteen, you met the monster under your bed and it hasn’t left you alone ever since.

You’ve always been afraid to talk to other people about these things but until last summer when I told you about my favourite colour and food and how I am lucky if I get more than four hours of sleep.

You asked me, when was the last time I prayed. At first you didn’t hesitate to ask what keeps me up every night until you looked at your wrists and saw the nails left marks on them almost permanently.

You know the violence that comes from suffering quietly. How someone desperate to feel can be the cruelest to themselves. But for once, don’t be scared to tell me about your monsters. In return, let me ask you to place your ear next to my chest. Tell me if you can hear the low growl, the seldom scratching of claws on the rib cage.

[saturnsfavouritemoon]

It's 1 am. I'm wondering if people can come out of misery on their own. When the hard time ends, does it stop raining? I'm currently trying to sleep in the place where I feel most unloved in this entire universe. Well, there are other places too. Atleast I had the choice to leave. Part of me doesn't wanna wake up tomorrow and face this world again. Does death mean end? What it takes to be a nihilist? Life is one of the two most overrated things in this world. Another one is love. It's been what is seems almost a lifetime I have stopped writing about both things. Poems are not my salvation anymore. Books don't make sense anymore. I just pretend that they do. I think it's easier being this way. Numb. Feeling nothing is easier than giving so much fucks. People become materialistic to fill the void inside them. I have read it somewhere. It's the second hardest thing in this world to learn to not care about anything. Forgiveness is still the first.