holding back tears because i''m with people

my mother changed the channel when she heard that 50 people like me had been killed. my mother heard the word ‘gay’ and didn’t want to hear more. my mother looked at me as if she wanted to ask, “so what does the poet have to say?”

the poet says, “give me a minute to breathe, i can’t fucking breathe, i’m suffocating in my own skin.”

the poet says, “i know i can’t cry in front of you, you won’t wipe away my tears, you won’t tell me it’s alright to mourn the people i consider my family.”

the poet says, “i’m always holding back when i fight with you, always biting my tongue because i should know better than to argue, your love is conditional and i have to play by the rules under this roof.”

the poet says, “i’ve only ever felt safe at events that celebrate love, but it’s the wrong kind for some and i’m sick of listening to those disgusting opinions.”

the poet says, “i do not know how to explain this pain to you. i don’t think i should have to.”

the poet says, “there is no space left in my heart for people like you.”


We spend hours walking side by side, the outline of our bodies reflected on the ground. Together, they look perfectly imperfect. The curves I have spent my whole life hating fit yours like a puzzle piece, and I suddenly have a newfound respect for them.

I can barely make out your face in the dark but feel its closeness. I’m thankful you can’t see me blushing. You joke that my eyes twinkle like the stars, and I’m frustrated because I can never quite pinpoint what color yours are.

When you’re sad, I feel it heavy in my chest. The tears you hold back become my own. You ask me why I’m crying and I shake my head. We’re both far too prideful, but maybe that’s what pain does to people. Your soft side shows itself one morning, and I watch your impish grin as you pull your red blanket over you, tousled hair peeking out the top. My heart swells.

I’d tell you how much I care, but neither of us are adept at vulnerability. I hope you see it in the way my eyes well up when you hurt, in the way I smirk when I catch you looking.

Now that we’re 3,000 miles apart, our memories are all in the past. I ache when I think of them.

When I say I miss you, know that I mean it. Maybe in two months time I can see you again, if only for a little while. We can take another walk and talk about every single thing there is to talk about, because I want to learn every single thing there is to know about you. Maybe then I can return home satisfied, although I doubt it…

I won’t forget your wit, or your wisdom, or the way you called me beautiful without ever speaking the words. You grab life by the reigns, something I’ve always aspired to do. When I was next to you I was fearless. You somehow managed to coax out the part of me that had for so long been stifled by my anxiety and doubt. I’m complete on my own, but you reminded me of those neglected corners that make me feel whole. It’s foolish but I hope we’ll be together someday, for real. Just thinking of the possibility brings a smile to my face.

Until then,


Fuck it. I’m crying again. I am exhausted. Of what? That I am not sure of. Life must’ve thrown too much shit on me that I can’t identify how I have reached this point. I am tired of pretend happy me. I am tired of my clenched throat for holding back my tears. I am tired of staying awake when all I want to do is sleep and never wake up. I am tired of expecting the littlest things, because expectations hurt and even the littlest things do not matter anymore. I am tired of telling people that everything is fine. I am tired of having no one to talk to. I am tired of holding my own hand in a place where there are too many faces I am familiar with. I am tired of knowing that I shouldn’t feel like this but I already am. I have too much in my head and my heart feels heavy. I have tried to control myself too much. All of these may sound cliche but fuck it, goddamnit, I am exhausted. 

I am lost and I don’t know what to do.

anonymous asked:

Dear Joseph

Dear Joseph,

Twinny, I miss you. I miss you so much that it physically hurts. They say time will heal my wounds, that I won’t ever forget about you but I won’t be as sad, that one day I will accept, that one day, I will be able to not cry on instant when I thing about you, that one day, I’ll move on. And do you know what I think about it? It’s pure bullshit, Jo. It’s a lie. It’s a story they tell people to make themselves feel better. Because it doesn’t go away, it doesn’t ease, it doesn’t fade. The pain is constant and it keeps burning inside of me everyday. They prefer to think that I’m better now because I try to hold my tears back when you’re mentioned, that I don’t lose myself. They prefer to think I am healed because it’s been almost three years and I’m moving on with my life. It’s bullshit, Jo. It’s a lie.

Did you know that the first thing you forget about a person is their voice? I found out about this after I lost you. I know that you have a very distinct sound you make when you laugh, but the tone of it is missing in my head. So every once in a while I watch old videos of us to remember. I’m scared crapless every time, afraid I won’t remember it. It’s pathetic to be revealed over remembering my dead brother’s voice, his face and everything else about him, or maybe obsessive too, but I am. Because you’re my other half. If I forget you, I forget me.

I never appreciated you enough. I always told you that I loved you, and you always told me you loved me, but I wish I would have said a thousand times more. I wish you said a thousand times more. Without you in my life, I realized that I’ll never hear it enough. Maybe it’s your fault that I’m starving for love, that I get needy, that I think I’ll never be loved. Because you got me used to your unconditional, undying love that noone can beat your score.

I remember that last night. The night you called me a few hours before the accident saying I didn’t have to stay up for you because, you said “You have work tomorrow, twinny. Go to sleep.” and I said I was going to. I wouldn’t let you drive drunk. And you said, “I’m not gonna drink Brooks. I don’t wanna make you stay up, so suck it and go to sleep.” You were still showing your care even when you told me to suck it up. I wish you had drunk, Jo. So you would have to call me. I would have been with you in that damned car. And as we came to this world together, we’d leave together. Like true twins. But instead you told me to go to sleep, twinny. You left me here and I don’t like it here without you anymore.

Sleep well,

From what kyungsoo said about jongin holding back his emotions when actually he’s a pretty tender guy, I think jongin cried or teared up because everything kind of finally fell down on him: the stress, the pressure, the practices, the lack of sleep, relationships, everything kind of dropped on him at that moment and he just had to let it out. And I also think kyungsoo works the same way. He’s stated many times before that he holds emotions in and he also is very regretful/unconfident and that he cares about people’s opinions, so I’m kind of anticipating this to happen at some point to kyungsoo; either backstage or live.