Soft Proses & Bloody Journals

I

Safe And Sound by Taylor Swift | July 17th, 2023 | 6:43pm

in every love proses i write and publish, there are journal entries written i cannot dare share.

perhaps because the love proses are written carefully - words are picked delicately like flowers in spring; blooming mesmerizingly- afraid to ruin their preciousness. People loved those romantic sweet words like it's filled with strawberries and peaches and they're delightfully- willingly devouring it. It's like a picnic on a peaceful serene afternoon on a dreamy grass spot near a river and under the tree- there's my proses presented there, waiting and calmingly bathing on the suns shade. My proses are like calm waves of a pond, a waterfall's soft sound, the sunny morning that gently greets you, a warm blanket that is wrapped around you during a cozy winter night. My proses are delicate- my proses heals someone's heart, it makes them remember the taste of their first sweet kiss. It's special, it's romantic, it's delicate, it's precious and it makes them want to protect that feeling.

Meanwhile, my journal entries are written with madness- barely readable because of its tears stained notes that looks like a heavy storm went by through it and a thunder strucked it hard multiple times. People will find it interesting but they won't open it even just the first page because they'll deem it too dark, too heavy, and too much for their taste. Some of the pages have rips on it, days when i can no longer write my feelings and it eats me completely then it'll turn to scratches i couldn't afford to do on my wrist. Some of the entries have holes on it, words i couldn't fathom to hear nor read anymore because its splitting me into more pieces i couldn't count anymore- I couldn't recognize it, its like a puzzle and ive lost too many pieces and i cant bring it together any longer. Some of the entries have burns on it- things i wanted to forget, i wanted to bury just to feel numb and at the same time just to feel something. My journal entries are the raging waves in the ocean, a thunderstorm's heavy pour on roofs, the midnight sky's darkness overlooking at you in the night while you're walking home, the coldness that suddenly creeps up to you in a thursday afternoon. My journal entries aren't delicate nor soft written. Its a raging mess others wouldn't understand completely. My journal entries will make someone remember the first ever heartbreak they've experienced; one of their parent leaving them behind, the lover that got away- the love they lost during their innocence. My journal pages cuts through someones soul- makes their heart bleed until they run out of blood and turn anemic- until there's nothing left even their bones and ashes. Its full of madness, sadness, anger, anxiety, whispers of love from strangers i wish i could forget, feelings that makes them want to bury it six feet under and ball theirself while bawling their eyes like a river.

i am made up of soft proses and bloody journals.