previously titled:
memories (june)
previous description:
pretty pictures only for my perusal.
trigger warning
for some dark stuff, sex,, etc
but not a lot ,, it's ok just read it yolo
or don't . pls take care of ur mental well-being
this is just me talking so you can skip on ahead if you'd like:
So, recently, I've been all over the place. I'm self-isolating again. But this time, I think it's a good thing. I think, really, every time it has been a good thing. There were just outside consequences before now. People, friends from school, who had fragile egos and were lonely and easily offended, to think about. But now, I think I can really be myself now that I have this sort of license to cut them all off. A lot of people do this, right? I was on vacation recently, and I was away from my normal life. I was different. I felt it myself. I was more open with what I felt. I got used to not twisting my own feelings for the benefit of the other. I realized that messiness is not a bad thing. Back and forth is not a bad thing. Ending a friendship is not the end of the world. You are entitled to NOT feel like fucking shit. I mean, is it not basic fucking knowledge you don't keep in touch with someone-you-call-your-best-friend's ex? I really cannot believe how dense some people can be. It's fucking horrifying and a laugh riot at the same time.
I wonder a lot: am I a bad person. Am I the worst person in the world. Objectively, no. But there is so much shame and guilt and raw BAD emotion in me that has not been filtered out and labeled - that I attribute it all to my own self. I am the fucking worst. But I'm also self-aware. So I'm not the fucking worst but I am the fucking worst. Can I just buy a bag of Cheetos and go to the skatepark and be a normal emo teenager? What's the fucking need for all these thoughts?
Yet, I have them.
I am okay. I am good. I have to suddenly get used to being sort of lonely again. The facade has to go. I'm selfish, self-centered, easily bored, and, sometimes, though I really try not to be, shallow as fuuuuck!
I might give myself solace by saying I'm still 17. Everyone thinks they're the fucking worst when they're 17, but all they really are is 17. Like that 15 quote but I have no memory of what 15 was like. Bad, probably.
But what about all these adults. Who are so fucked up. They're just hurricanes, really. Terrorizing hurricanes who don't know how to do shit right. They're rats trapped in capitalistic, heteronormative, religiously oppressive, hell. It's insane!!!! I just wanna lie in a garden!!! Like fuck! I wanna be a squirrel. With their little round bellies and their shiny eyes and their weird fucking flying tendencies.
But, ANYWAY,
These are poems. Or writings. I cringe every time I call something I write a poem. Poems are supposed to rhyme, I am in middle school. This is not a monthly collection, like I did for April and some other months before this. This is a lot of stuff, a lot of it from June and July and May (the months in between), but also older stuff. Pictures and stuff. Really, it's like a digital diary. Baring my soul out on wattpad.com. I wish my father had loved me and my mother had understood me. But it's all lolsies in the end. So. Enjoy
27/7/23
