writing and life

So maybe,
I am waiting
for something
that will not happen,
yet maybe someday
I will be so happy
and surprise
by something
I could never imagine—

that’s when
the universe
will show
it’s love
for me.

—  ma.c.a // And in the end, the stars will still shine brightly
I remember the first day we met. My hands were shaking and I didn’t know why but I think now I do. I think that somehow I knew that you were going to change my life. I wasn’t going to be the same person as I was before. And I think that scared me. But I’m not scared anymore because you’re here and we’re together. It’s you and me and now we laugh about that first day because those two kids, they couldn’t even imagine where they’d end up. But we wouldn’t want it any other way.
My first heartbreak you ask? I don’t think I ever got over that one. Each day I am learning to accept that that familiar smell will always circle my lungs. The way that laughed looked will forever be traceable in my iris’s. That touch consistently the mold I judge other touches by. My first heartbreak is a tolerable memory that I live through each day.
—  Excerpts of stories @magnolias-and-mimosas will never finish// #203
The way I see it life is a blank canvas and it’s up to you to paint it. Society decided to paint it blue and if you don’t want to feel an outsider and be treated like one, you have to paint it blue as well. But time passes and you don’t feel like blue is right for you, but it seems okay for everyone else so you just keep pretending. And then one day, you discover the color pink and you feel good in it and don’t care if others think otherwise.
—  giulswrites

Every time I attach myself to someone, they stick their hands in the jar that held pieces of me.

They would take it everywhere they go and I would go on with my life waiting for them to return it.

Some do, and it fills me with the greatest joy seeing them hold a part of me and seeing it bloom in their hands. But some don’t. And it leaves me hurt and disappointed, how they had taken the fragile parts of me, and shattered it like glass. What hurts more is that they didn’t break it by grasping it too tight, they just never made the effort to hold on.

—  Me (JNH). And I fell, and I broke as I hit concrete.
The kids you knew when you were six years old sell drugs now and I want to stop them but I don’t know how.
Your sister left feather boas and fairy wings somewhere far away, back when life was good and everything was okay.
I thought I would be someone else by now but I haven’t become the person I thought I might be. Pull me in by the waist where the sun meets the sea.
Tell me you’re in love. Tell me you’re sure. Turn me right around when I turn for the door.
I don’t know what I’m saying and I don’t know how I feel but I know that I miss you and I know this is real.
—  #189- excerpts from the book I’ll never write
Maybe

Maybe it’s my past
Maybe
it’s being touched by trespassers of my consent
it’s being eaten alive
by someone’s eyes-
someone 5 times my size.
Maybe
it’s being left behind
in strangers’ houses 
crying my eyes out at night
(while you’re out having a good time)
just being a mere responsibility
thrown around
from hand to hand,
from house to house.
My tears meant nothing
My screams 
were childish
That heaving in my chest
was just me being
dramatic.
Maybe
That’s why I’m so fucked up
Much less than I ought to be
but still enough
to never stop craving attention
to never stop craving affection
no matter how much I already have.
Maybe
that’s why swallow my words
and suck up my tears
because my problems aren’t big enough
because I need to be tough.
I don’t want to be dramatic
because “I’m a big girl”…
I know my past does not define my future,
but maybe
it explains the state I’m in.

-iri.i ©

March 24 2017