poetry to write

self-pity is okay

but don’t let it turn into self-loathing

there is a line you need to learn

where the two start to fade into each other

and i know, it’s hard, i’ve been there

but don’t cross it

there are no paths over there

no guidance, just detrimental thoughts

it’s so easy to get lost and buried by your own mind

left with no air or will to exist

it’s all taken away from you so easily

and it’s such a cold place

i don’t want you to be stuck there

i don’t want you to be lost

i want you to have hope

“me too”
two little words became a rallying cry
a scream of solidarity
they’re louder than any “you’re not alone” could ever begin to shout
i look to my left, to my right
and see both hands being held by someone uttering those two words

“me too”
hurts to hear
more than their hands, their mouth, their body ever could
i wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone else
not even my worst enemies
i wouldn’t ever want to hear another person say

“me too”
is said far too often
by far too many
and it’s goddamn time we stop teaching how to dress
or how to stay safe
and start teaching that “no” means “no”
that nothing justifies violating another
that it should sicken and anger you to know how many people will say

“me too”
are you listening to us?
do you hear what we’re saying?
are you saying it too?
and if you’re not
thank god for that
but i hope that means instead you’re saying

“enough is enough”

(cc, 2017)

Today was a great day, no one texted me back, I probably failed a big exam, and I have no friends, but in the end, all of that made today an even better day. Even though fate, the world, and everyone I know hated me today, I loved me. I loved what I did, I loved my smiles, I loved my laughs, I loved my art and my movies. The world was just a painting.
—  Coral-vellichor

I know you’re doing your best and you rock for it and fuck everyone who doesn’t think it’s enough.

I have a problem admitting when I’m hurting. I’m always trying to stay happy and content that when I fail in doing that, I feel like I lost, like I made a mistake. And let me tell you something, there wouldn’t be a rainbow without the rain.
—  giulswrites

He says that he likes me because I have a pretty mouth, and sometimes he makes me feel like I have a pretty mouth
because he kisses me like he’s never known anything better.
and I think I’m supposed to be happy,
but my tummy still hangs heavy on my body and my thighs still look huge next to his.
And I wonder if he finds my flabby upper arms pretty,
or my bulging cheeks and my wide forehead pretty.

I know he doesn’t think of me as pretty.
He only ever looks at my eyes when we’re laid together. He only ever touches me where I am hardest.
Where I am most comfortable.
And it still surprises me when he asks me if he’s pretty. I mean, sure, he’s beautiful.
There’s no question about that. It’s clear to see.
But I’ve never paid attention to his looks as a whole. Only ever his collarbones,
only ever his fingers, where he is prettiest.
Never his face, never his whole body.

I don’t think I will ever be comfortable with my whole body. But I have learned how to love my lips the way he loves them,
and I’ve learned how to love my fingers and my nonexistent collarbones the way I love his.
And I remember the times I slipped stars
under my skin, hoping that I glow as bright as they do,
and the day I realized that no light will be
brighter than the one I shine on myself.

—  oscarsins

The sun has set. The leaves on the trees are motionless; there’s no breeze to move them. It’s all still, painfully still, as if everything simultaneously lost the will to move when the word goodbye slipped from her lips. It’s in times like this that people speak about tomorrow. About better days, about better people, about a love deserving of a person like myself. They talk about how she just wasn’t the one as if that would do anything to put the pieces of my heart back together. At the end of the day, it all boils down to the same thought–

I wasn’t enough.

—  Maxwell Diawuoh // Excerpt From A Book I’ll Never Write #20