A Reminder to take care of yourself, drink some water, get some sleep and do something that makes you happy.
I try to write something, anything, but the words are only clear when I feel them press against my heart and mind. They become muffled when hands reach for them, they loose their shape.
Anyone else physically recoil when thinking about how we are made of flesh and bone. I can even look at uncooked meat, if I've seen it raw I can't eat it cooked. And if it looks like a limb I'm not eating it at all. Then I think about how my body is uncooked meat and my bones possible tools and I shudder, I feel far too close to the tendons and the blood, I feel alive, so alive that the sound of my heart is a warning and a blessing, I feel so alive I'm afraid I'll die, I'm afraid of how gruesome it is.
I can't think about you for too long, but sometimes you climb out of my Amygdala and I let your face press against my prefronal cortex. Your presence is mostly wrapped in bubbler wrap, hidden in a back room, somewhere near the things I can't talk about and the things I should have. I've quietly closed the door, but it's not locked, I don't think it ever will be, I don't think I want it be. But that room isn't a place I like to visit, it only holds you and the things that shouldn't have happened.
I have not interacted with your blog yet at all, I just saw it recommended, but may I say that the aesthetics, the color scheme, all the things of your profile are so crisp and fresh. It reminds me of a cucumber sandwich (I think it has cucumbers, cream cheese, sandwiched in bread and sliced for snacks with tea. I think. I've yet to try it). I just think it is very nice, so good job designing it.
Thankyou💚 I've yet to try it either but now I'm craving it. I'm about to change my profile picture so the theme might not be as cucumber sandwichesque after, hopefully the flowers fits in the tea party lol.
A Nice place to take a break might be in someone else's words. I find that when I loose motivation reading or doing something I enjoy brings back that spark.
It’s pretty common to lose love for a project at some point during the writing process. If that happens, it’s always okay to step away.
But (and this is the important part), don’t quit! Take a break, give yourself a breather, but always remember to come back. Your story deserves to be told.
When I was little I was collecting all my future pains and putting them in a neat little line, each one climbing up the ladder of my spine. Because what is time, what does it matter when I could see the ending before I had even begun. It was like the Me that would live through broken glass and kicked in doors felt her heart beating so loudly she sent the sound back through time, and it found me in my room when everything was good. This organ we prescribe love to felt so much fear it ran back to a time before the palpitations.
I worry
I stress
I am a pylon
I am tangled in cables
I am no longer connected to the grid
Energy is lost
It's falls through a sieve
And all I'm left with is dust and static lint
I barely rinse
I Repeat
the same defeat of sinking into my bed
I am animated meat
suspended over my own stupid once avoidable mess.
I saw you there. Cigarette lit and back against the door. I watched you, I hadn't seen you in years yet you looked the same, But nothing between us was. I wanted you to notice me, I couldn't approach you, so instead I hoped you'd find my eyes and hold out your heart for me to love again. But our hearts didn't know each other anymore, so I left you by the door.