tryiingss - Tumblr blog

[tryiingss]

i will not sink,

in order for you to swim.

— k.e.

[tryiingss]

  -  bones at the feast // e.k.l.

commission me on ko-fi?

[tryiingss]

maybe breathing is the only thing you can do right now. maybe your success is just surviving the day. it’s ok. you don’t need to compare your journey to others. it’s ok. it’s ok to just breathe.

Just so you know (via teacup13)

[tryiingss]

I am 25 and I have never been in love. That’s one of those facts that makes me Sit and stew and sigh like a dog on One of his off days.

I am 25 and I have never been in love. But I once drove twenty minutes to a Bakery to get my friend a cake for her 16th birthday with the face of her Favorite band on it. And she told me That was her favorite thing she’s ever Gotten and we watched fireworks all night.

I am 25 and I have never been in love. But I have held someone after a breakup As they cried and cried and cried, And gave them my favorite jam and tea And told them that if love is an anchor That means it is also a boat. You will find Your way to harbor again.

I am 25 and I have never been in love. But I have raised terrified kittens in my Bedroom. You let them sniff you first, You always let them sniff you, you put Out food, you don’t give chase. You wait. And one day they come to you. And sit on your lap and purr like A motor terraforming Mars itself.

I am 25 and I have never been in love. But I have picked myself up after all My worst days and given myself soup When I’m so sick I can’t stand And given myself cakes on the days I feel Like dead ashes and tape that’s lost its stickiness. I have licked my own wounds and healed my own Bruises, I have called myself beautiful Even when I don’t feel it.

I am 25 and I have never been in love. But maybe I have.

[tryiingss]

i didn’t know what it was to want, to crave something so badly you feel your soul ripping your insides, trying to reach out for it. i didn’t know what it was to want something so desperately your heart ached at the absence of it. that night, i craved your touch as if you were in another universe, far away from me. i craved your touch so much i repeated in my head, like a spell, like a mantra, ‘touch me’. 'touch me’. 'touch me’. please please please i am begging you, put your hand on my heart, your lips on my neck, your eyes on my soul. touch me, god fucking damn it.

touch. (via sunsetico)

[tryiingss]

sometimes i read a little too much between the lines and i screw up and i’m in for a nasty surprise (but that’s okay) sometimes i reach out and get struck another time and i throw one back and i just sigh (that’s just fine)

a heart that hurts is a heart that still works and i swear i’ll be alright, it’s all in the quirks

girls like me talk too loud and think too fast and improvise speeches that bring bigots to their knees, and above all we do exactly as we damn well please

sometimes you pry your heart back out through the grates and throw it back in past that garden gate because i refuse to believe it’s too late

girls like me, we wanna watch the world burn and we’re sick and tired of waiting our turn above all i know someone’s gonna fall in love with me

(you’ll see)

sometimes we get caught running past the borderline sometimes we take ourselves home and wait through the night when the dawn comes, i will be just fine

- why i don’t give a damn he rejected me, a.m.k.

[tryiingss]

there are days when everything hurts. everything stings - the smallest things bring forth a fresh stream of tears.

i alternate between loud sobs breaking out of my chest soft whimperings silence. crying so no one hears me, so no one knows.

the other day my counsellor asked me what was it that made me this way? was it the state of the world? was it the loneliness? was it just an impenetrable wall of fear and shame and aching?

i’m flaky and irresponsible and a bad friend and all of these i know and all of these i own up to

sometimes i’m just so damn tired of the mess that is me

- i wish i could write some goddamn poetry (j.m.)

[tryiingss]

over the past few months, i’ve been writing poetry with a kind of passion and frenzy that i haven’t experienced before. i promised myself i’d compile them into a book when i hit fifty. so, well, here are 50+ poems that i’ve placed into a google doc for your reading pleasure. (anyone concerned: astrid kowalski is not my real name, and the email is under a false name too.)

if you like it - if you read it - please send me an ask and maybe like & reblog this post? anyway, without further ado: aubade to survival, the first poetry book by astrid kowalski.

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Poetry threatening to spill, leak, overflow:

Hey. How’re you doing? I’m sitting alone on the train I didn’t know I was still capable of missing you

Thought I outgrew you But loneliness nibbles at my fingertips, Playing with my hair,  Tickling my spine

I just want to breathe

I think to myself, I’m sure going through it in this Chili’s tonight But we don’t even have Chili’s here Guess I can say my heart’s chilly

I don’t mind true solitude but I hate being alone when I’m seen When the vultures are out there, judging I know they don’t, but I do Anxiety courses through my veins I hate eating alone at school I hate thinking about people going out with their friends I hate feeling like I don’t have friends I hate that I could technically make those things happen but would it be organic?

Would that make me happy?

My throat closes up I’m restless

Here I am with all these feelings And no one to tell them to And no one else to blame But me.

// 

I just want to be like everyone else Sometimes I’m real tired of being me

I love me but I sure don’t like me Like all the times I shied away from creating meaningful friendships How I’m terrified of being seen as me Me Me

I just feel. Lonely. Not good enough. Like everything is wrong.

I don’t dress like a university student I’m here wearing graphic tees and no make up I’m here crying on public transport

I will never be good enough I will never be good enough I will never be good enough

Will I ever be okay?

I hate that I isolate myself and then wonder why I’m lonely.  Sometimes I just want to be a little loved

//

Why do I care? I wish I didn’t

How long will it take for this sadness to leak out of my skin?

- trying to make a fire burn again. // joyce.

[tryiingss]

I do not feel like healing because in the back garden there is a graveyard for all of the things I wasn’t allowed to feel. Betrayal and Pain toss in their graves and Anger screams like a banshee from the top of a tree, ‘I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS WAY.’ Resentment festers like a maggoty wound beneath the surface. I cannot let go of this, because it has yet to let go of me. I should have been allowed to purge myself of poison. Instead, I was made to swallow it. And now the soil is rotten. But it’s not my fault. Not mine. ‘Talking helps sometimes,’ they say but my voice is nothing but thorns and no roses. So many dead emotions that weren’t allowed to live. They wail from beneath the ground. They are fighting to crawl out. They refuse to be subdued again. No, I do not feel like healing. I feel like hurting. Take a knife and cut off the hands that are holding me back. Dig up the skeletons and embrace them. I am human and I am allowed to feel these cut-up, violent things. I promise to get worse before I get better.

[tryiingss]

there are certain kinds of people who go knocking on the grim reaper’s door only for him to set them back and say “not yet.”

and that’s you, my darling // a.j.k.

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After you were done with me, I thought that I’d never breathe again, but if I’m being honest, I’ve felt this way before, for my life has always been loving then losing what never was mine, so again slowly I taught myself to count uncertain inhales then exhales, though not yet quite the same as I had before, but I am trying, and I can feel myself getting better every day, until one day you and memory won’t be able to touch me anymore, just like all the others from a past for which I no longer reach.

V.I.P.P.// the past and forgotten (via vacantinkandprettypink)

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i never needed him, i never needed anyone; i have fire in my fingers, infinities in my irises, and terror on my tongue

nikki ray, Cosmic Innocence

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time’s a funny thing. one minute i had you. the next i don’t.

it was never the right time to tell you how i felt | letters of a lost love.//t.c

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hackneyed

when it rains/ it pours/ they're blowing bubbles & it's too early/ for the smell of trash/ how long can it last/ no matter how fast you are/ you can't outrun the past/ I feel tired/ I feel exhausted/ I feel gassed

[tryiingss]

how to i remove the topper stomped on top of my head why do i see through lime stained goggles no amount of elbow grease unscrews the top nor clears the glass . when were these peanut butter walls built the thoughts like gnats and flies pile in layers to the wall clear away one and another grows grotesque like an apartment paired with depression . all i want is a clean slate to build a new

sloth // Gale L. Mccoy