like it’s not a fleeting feeling.
Holding on, gripping tight,
my fault is that i count on it like it’s certain.
Nothing is for granted, harder to keep learning that.
Cutting at my own wounds like I got paid today for it.
8 cups of the same things I keep on gripping to.
So hard to stay and I pay such a high price when I leave.
I started making more money just so that it hurts less than last time.
Drinking ages you, well- so does the fighting and flighting that I can’t turn off.
It’s me in every one of these situations that I keep wanting to get out of.
And drugs get you high, only if you’re not down.
Tired of the fight, ¿what can I do differently?I am still trying to know it .
I see it in their eyes, when they are trying to escape reality so bad. It only pulls you harder into the one you got.
My throat was cursed at birth, I must rewrite a language I can speak and others understand.
Hyper critical and sensitive to any sharpness.
A mix for destroying the things I love most.
because somehow I thought loving meant repairing the same old structure until it’s beat enough to endure a storm.
It’s not.
Collecting the same old souvenirs,
acting out so that the lesson is taught,
shooting back at me.
I guess I hoped for forever, scared of being abandoned each time,
my body will not remain and so ¿why would theirs?
I’m trying to love without the distress of knowing it won’t be here when I stand at the grave of what once was.
I’m tryin to appreciate the time we already had.
Drowned myself in avoidance today, so I can sleep tight.
I could be held but I reject the offers all around.
I could’ve opened up and allowed myself to be a 528- today I failed.
Instead i’ll do it by myself.
Hope I won’t regret it later.
Self forgiveness for the sins I shame myself before committing just to guilt myself.
I do it out of a weird conditioning of indulging in the sadness.
Get me out of my head and bring me to my body.
The last thing I wrote when I closed my journal and then our paths crossed.
My path with you is something I want to explore before I write you love letters online; I did before, it never alchemized.
When you asked me while I was filled up, your words were clear and strong. I know you’re reading these now, but this is still my blog and “Why wouldn’t I read what you write?” is still the hottest thing I’ve heard during the act.
Our patterns keep the score, maybe my favorite theory.
I’ve said it before and I mean it.
I think we carry our last relationship into the next, and just like cycles of the planets, they’re not all starting the same day.
Some close before others and they overlap each other.
I move on but I’m patient where I’m still untangling.
Tóxica.
I want ownership rights and a chain all around.
Locked myself in your bathroom, the mirror is pointing at me, I’m starting to see the factor- I’m always here with me.
When I see my shadow, I know it’s not whole, but I still played the algorithmic afflicted songs; And now, I’m just sad that the culture is so okay with it- Why do we let pop stars get so down in it?
I drank the beer and tucked myself into your bed.
I’m still going through my suitcase.
I’m not sure what’s truly mine.
My conditioning is more telling than me saying “that’s misogyny!” and your reaction is your own.
I don’t like stereotypes, and I feed some myself.
Learning to be righteous, a performance of the self.
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