♥️
i’ve often wondered what it would be like to be one of the people with no internal monologue. you’d think it’d get lonely, but i suppose you can’t mourn something you never had.
she hikes through the brush
a tree falls in the woods
yet she does not hear it
id like to roll one up with jiminy cricket and pick his bug brain, do you think he’d forgive me for the spider i killed last week?
what color are the dots you see on the back of your eyelids?
there’s a voice that narrates in my head, that i converse with back and forth to pass the time, that i get lost with for hours, that tells me to play miles davis and eat fruit and sit outside. it is me but it isn’t me. i can’t explain their sound, its lost by the limitations of language.
the landscape of the mind is something that will never be able to be fully communicated between one another. it’s uniquely designed, coded into only your neurons.
how bittersweet, to know that no one will ever be able to fully grasp the world you’ve created in the space between your eyes.
5d ago
Related Recs
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there is something figuratively beautiful about the things we know and don’t know, the sublime and mundane
and when you visit the beach, do you ever think about if the animals who live in the embrace of the depths remember the beauty of the ocean?
where the salt envelops every single one of us,
accepting us as kin
letting her wind tousle our raw, visceral edges
and pepper them with her sea-foamed kisses
which tell me that it’s okay to pretend
and okay to tell the ocean all of myself
the ocean reaches out to me, hands cloaked in the sharp coolness of water and something else- something i don’t understand
as I poke around in a tide pool, like a vendor at a bustling market, observing the wares that the ocean has to offer
and i turn around and ask her, do the barnacles see themselves? do anemones understand their own beauty, fragile and ephemeral?
i don’t think they do.
but the ocean doesn’t have any words for me, instead shutting my mouth with a shhhh
as her sandy dress rustles down the shore, laced with white foam and gossamer trails of ripples
and wordlessly, tells me to look
and i do.
until the sun hurriedly retreats from the wispy radiance of the moon, enrobed in puffy clouds
and it's just the three of us.
the moon tugs at the ocean’s hand, dancing to their own secret rhythm,
letting me see them in their love.
personally, i think it’s beautiful \\ and i wish i had something like it
and the ocean laughs. nothing jeering or ridiculing, simply an acknowledgement that i understand.
everything around me falls,
like petals cast off from a chrysanthemum.
and then, we were wordless
like the ocean had never spoken in the first place.
i want to descend into the depths of the ocean one day,
to be hugged once more and never again.
not because i am tired of being alive,
but frankly within me exists too much zeal to live.
uncontrollable surges of wow i am alive in flesh, blood through my veins, and thoughts in my head
become more addictive than any form of fentanyl, cocaine, heroin
and better than any gateway into a better life
or a better existence, transcending normality
and the moment it’s just me in my head, without the viscous energy of being alive
suddenly drains me like a leaking bucket,
decrepit and dry.
i want to burn like a torch, setting my world alight into embers,
into flames,
into an inferno.
Sunrise:: being alight || with a halo of only thoughts and dreams || and the divinity of something new
May 2, 2025
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you know,
all i like to write about is love.
writing is easier when it’s about your own personal experiences of grief, of pain
but love is the beautiful dove of the two
released at a funeral, released at a wedding.
,
because the definition is different for everybody.
—
the trees rustle again tonight, and the wind gently taps on the windowpane, begging again to be let in
and my thoughts race farther and faster in the night than a pure-bred, hot-blooded racehorse, bucking wild for the first time
my mind buzzes, stricken like a gong, reverberating in the quietness of tonight
as i drag myself closer to you,
you reach out for me, an unspoken, gentle and devout prayer, asking for me in the unspeakable words conveyed in a whisper through actions
–
i promised you a fantastical world of your own, where you are safe, through my own creation.
i have created for you in the heart of my own somewhere for me to love you,
fully and infinitely with all of myself.
if this is not where you are safe, then there is nothing else.
–
word by word and sentence by sentence
i create dreams i would never tell anybody
not even under the skies of a cloudless night.
when i sleep, i tuck my hopes and sadness under my pillow
and hope a fairy will kidnap it and place in that spot
something i should need more.
but night after night, my dreams just macerate in the container of my heart.
soon, i will drink them like an elixir of truth
and what i am afraid of will come
May 2, 2025
you know what i find really interesting? that i’ve never not started a big little post like this without the words “you know what i find really interesting”?
anyone who has ever met me has been a victim of this same quote, with no fault of their own, i am but a broken record
“the entirety of your life is either waiting for the really good things or the really bad things” (my father)
you know what i find really interesting?
numbness.
not it’s presence , not its absence, rather the fact it exists at all.
i am
moved
by the fact i can be moved
i often wonder if i have felt the entirety of emotions possible my disposal
have i ever really been in love?
can i look upon you with tears in your eyes and say, definitively, i know how you feel?
is your happiness mine? do you understand my desires as i understand yours? i am but words on a screen and pixels that stand before you in their own right, words that are not contingent on your comprehension yet secretly hope and pray they do not fall on deaf ears.
i do not need your validation, but i want it. tell me i am beautiful, or smart, or that the funny words i use are any different than another teenage girls, tell me you know too what it is like to be numb, and sad, and happy, and hungry.
why do we write? why do we express? to remind you that i too am human, grappling with my own mortality every day? am i writing for you?
Feb 11, 2025
Top Recs from @cheese333
its an in your face slap stick style ignorant. it knows what is has and what it doesn't (money). its kitschy, repeats scenes, ridiculous ,and cinematic. also ninjas and dinosaurs.
Jun 18, 2025
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i was born into a world on fire, while spaghetti sauce dripped from the ceiling, ceramic lay shattered on the floor. watching bodies crumple to the concrete, spines contorted, flesh ripped open, seeping puss. daily fodder for an internet sensation, sheer virality.
your hopes and dreams picked apart by culvert vultures.
misfired shotgun shells lay quiet around surrounding glass, like a silvered mirror peeking back at you with a sick sycophantic smile. glaring as gore fills the gaps like a kintsugi amphora. yet they’d rather bite my tongue off for me than hear a hiss of dissent. hear the wail of a mother and you’ll spit back too.
my blood sweat and tears help fund the war on terror. my minimum wage pays for crack cocaine and veuve cliquot and ballistic missiles at 8 cents on the dollar.
a warfare bargain.
a shein regime.
finance your state sanctioned genocide for 4 monthly installments!
i’m tired of choking on ash and tire smoke and deductibles, yet, we are the sacrificial lamb. so heave yourself upon the pedestal, and wither and rot upon their cake.
Jun 18, 2025
3d ago