It’s been a crappy day. Oh wait, it’s been a crappy year.
The easy banter,
Our self-deprecating jokes,
How we used to be.
Depression is not always painted in pictures of violent sobs, of suicidal thoughts, and of emotional distance. Most of the time, it can be photographed in smiles that lack of crow's feet, in song lyrics that cry for help, in forced conversations, and in silent fights not to weep while settling in the curse of insomnia.
So look hard, the real battle is difficult to witness.
She looked through the half-open window- darkness still won over light, but there were a few stubborn rays that pierced there way into her room. In that fleeting moment, it was enough reason to get up and will herself to survive another day.
I am looking forward to the day I will feel enough about myself.
I miss being able to call myself a writer. I miss writing for those who know that words matter. I miss writing for someone who understands. I miss writing deserving of more than a glance.
I realized that even if I'm over the moon happy, I will never be 100% happy. I will always, always have tears reserved for the memory of us, for what was, and for what could have been. I don't know how else to describe it but it's like if Richard Linklater decided not to do a trilogy, if he just wrote the first movie, and both Jesse and Celine lived the versions of their lives in constant wonder of what they're missing because the plot of Before Sunset never happened. That's us, no?
I am lost.
Words have eluded me- they found home in the past, right where our story ended, our chapter closed.
I found
The only way for me to touch them
Is to remember
Who I used to be
Back when
All I had to do to
Live in beautiful metaphors
Was to look
at you.
theoddpenwrites reblogged
Between, Inside
You always
Live in between
The spaces
Of my words
Dwell inside
My prose
Breathing life into them
Like a child
Blowing into a balloon
Seeing it grow
And take flight
Reaching such great heights
Always.
I hope you know that no matter how far apart our worlds seem, your words are always welcome to drop by, hang out, and spend the night. A part of my soul is written in our memory— feel free to take that and find even a temporary refuge in me.
I just want someone who will consider me a priority, too.
theoddpenwrites reblogged
I keep wondering what it would be like again…having someone who’s crazy about you..who just can’t get enough of you. Someone who wakes up every morning thinking “I can’t believe I’m with this girl!”…someone who can’t stop talking to you…someone who looks at you like you’re the most amazing person in the world..someone who’s willing to go above and beyond the expected to show you how much he loves everything about you..someone who doesn’t just wait around for you to always do the first move, to say the first word. Someone who misses you when you’re not there and takes the time to tell you just how much you’re missed. Someone who can tell you just how you made a change in his life..and how he can never imagine what it would be like if you weren’t a part of his life. Someone who’s proud to let the world know that you’re his..someone who’s there..fully there..for you..someone who’s not afraid to tell you how he feels about you..someone who really loves you..and will always find a way to make you feel exactly that.
I wonder what it would be like if I had you again the way I had you the first time.
Nobody really wants to love a person who’s broken.
The writer in me will always be in love with you.
Writers are cursed to remember everything, even the way they are always left forgotten.
-Erika Villanueva
theoddpenwrites reblogged
extramadness
theoddpenwrites reblogged
wnq-writers
“She poked holes into paper and held it to the sky It had been so long Since the stars had said their goodbyes. She painted every blade of grass A multitude of greens. For her grey colored glasses Kept colors unseen. She had a way about her, The girl in the grey colored glasses. She mastered filling herself with laughter So no one could see the disaster That she hid deep within her. The girl in the grey colored glasses, Saw the world only in grey…”
— Elena R. Taylor