al3xs3l3n3

Latest Posts by al3xs3l3n3

I saw on pinterest this post of (I think) a tumblr post of a poem. one of the lines went "I see love in everything, love sees everything in me." I am not sure who this person is (lmk if yall know) but they deserve credit for my new affirmation: I see love in everything, everything sees love in me.

Night blackens the air where I stand

A crisp chill prickling my skin

Almost midnight

I breathe in

I should be sleeping but I’m not

Woken by nightmares

Silent screams

Hidden terrors

Now outside I look to the sky

Seeing some stars

Through the city lights

Dogs start barking

I’m not alone

Time to re-enter my warmer home

Trudge to my bedroom

Crawl into the sheets

Type out a poem

Then fall back into sleep

it's selfish,

I know it is.

I apologized for it,

which I know means nothing.

yet I still pressed send,

for me not for you.

and I tell you that,

in typed out abbreviated words.

'so sorry chat',

like it fixes my cruelty.

I could've left well enough alone,

but who am I kidding.

my friends wonder why people vape,

when they know it's bad for them.

well why do they procrastinate writing essays?

why do we stay up late on school nights?

why do I scratch and scrape at my scared skin?

why did I press send on that damn message?

it's selfish,

self harm its in the name.

I apologized for it,

which I know means nothing.

I am so fucking sorry,

for all the wrong reasons.

There was nothing resolute you could do about sadness, you were finding. You simply had to embrace the forlorn notions, and live out across the day, finding concentration in the other things you loved. Whilst realising that that thing you once loved was never coming back.

to the girls singing please please please (sabrina carpenter) in the hollister dressing room at the mall

thank you for helping me stop and smile

the human spirit is indomitable and I needed a reminder to once again find love and hope even in the darkest corners of those dank as fuck changing rooms

when your mom gives you an oil that helped with her scars

and when your cousin has a semicolon tattooed on his forearm

you just can't help but wonder if you had known it all before

would you do it again?

for the first time ever i anticipate spring

i am getting used to short hair

i wonder will i ever get used to my scream

I am made of flesh I am made of bone

most of which is my very own

I am made of muscle I am made of skin

the likes of which resembles my kin

I am made of stardust I am made of rain

I carry with me my mothers pain

I am made of laughter I am made of sorrow

I am someones dream of a better tomorrow

If I were your girlfriend I'd be the summer to your tom

There was a simple joy in just staying up for a while longer. Consciousness could be exhausting. Often it was. But it could also be sublime. And so there was the option to go to sleep. But you thought you may as well just stay up. There was time to do things, learn things; and you didn’t need to be anywhere tomorrow. So, simply stay awake and keep your mind going for a little longer.

You know when you wake up and your body hasn’t yet adjusted to the new day – and your mind is still congested and confused? Well, you can awake in that mode, and suddenly have a great fear for the future. Yesterday it was about money. And wondering what to do about getting some proper work later in life. You’re fine for money, at the moment. But, will you ever figure out a way to earn a decent amount? It’s okay right now – but that won’t last forever. And at the same time, you’ve just come out of sleep and you really need a pee. So you head along to the toilet, feeling monstrous. And you sit on the toilet and piss, and look in the mirror next to you: and you look like total crap. Heavy eyelids, grey hair, rough beard. You used to be semi comfortable with your looks, but, not so much these days. So you get up and head back to your bedroom and get into the bed again. Knowing that you won’t be able to sleep again. Because when your brain turns on in the morning, you can never switch it off again quickly. But what you can do is go back to that childish comfort of the warm bed. Just to stay there for a while. In the warmth of your covers. Especially with the one degree temperature beyond the window. Just reside in the heat for twenty minutes or so, so that you can regain a little physical power. After that, you can get up and put the clothes on and start the day for proper. And try and not be so afraid any more. Even if that’s often impossible to do.

I dance around my room on halloween at five in the morning, so I can wear my costume to school, and I listen to three cheers for sweet revenge by the alternative band my chemical romance on cd.

I have been looking for that cd for almost a year now I just got it over the weekend

I have had you for almost five years now I don't know why I'm still looking for you

jk guys we are so back

"its never over"-jeff buckley

as I let nature reclaim me I slowly but surely delete my ties to slavery swiping

I am deleting tumblr, my second to last stop as I fade into the trees

I leave to you my few posts in hopes of being remembered

there is a version of me that doesn't like to say goodbye

~andria

If I were a runner I'd be a sprinter

And if I were a painter I'd never buy varnish

If I were your rich great aunt I'd bore you with stories of a drunken Italy

And if I were a mother I'd eat my children in one sitting

If I were your girlfriend I'd be the summer to your tom

And if I were a musician I'd have five singles you had to buy separately and burn onto one disk

If I were a writer I'd be a poet

And if I were a poet I'd never breath a word of this to you

For I am become the great pretender betrayer of a youthful me

As I pretend not to be bothered by my bff who questions 'why wouldn't you want to be soldja boy?' a youthful me asks my mom for two halloween costumes since you're not allowed to be a bloody zombie little girl with a knife at school in the second grade

As I pretend my bff is right when she says we can't even at the bare minimum be mean girls since 'none of us are blonde' a youthful me describes to my dad the terrible tumble zombie Alice took not only down down the rabbit hole but down down a muddy cliff and that's the reason her hair is brown

As I pretend not to care when my bff calls my guy 'weird' a youthful me demands that if I must date a man he cannot be conventional in any manor

As I pretend to be unharmed by the unexplained absence of my bff at my clubs squid dissection a youthful me is ostracized and abandoned by her only friend

As I pretend the barber cut my hair wrong when my bff tells me 'it's really short' a youthful me wanted purple and blue died hair cut in a shaggy mullet

As I pretend I don't hate my new skin so much that I claw at it raw and bloody a youthful me swore it 'would only be once and I'd never do it again'

If I am to become another berry picked too ripe so I can be sold to the masses I will use the cut I was given so you can rot away in the warm sun on the vines. I won't let you, my daughter, be eaten by the people even if you must eat me alive in exchange.

snippet of Dear Daughter I Never Wanted

am i girl blog shit posting now?

who knows~

glass

the earth grumbles beneath you. the walls rattle the hanging picture frames. the glass shatters on the floor, releasing those memories like ghosts seeking closure. you desperately dig through the folds and frantically search the corners. you find nothing but the answer blinding your eyes. knees colliding with the hardwood floor, your heart lets out an agonizing wail, a painful yearning cry. i stand at the door and observe, careful not to step on the shards of glass. after a moment, you grow silent, staring out over the horizon. you are still, except for the rising and falling of your chest as you take hovering breaths. it was inevitable.

abstract art he says

i dont much understand it

he says its intriguing

i find questions with no answers

he says in a good way

i tell him i can't stand not knowing

he says im like abstract art

i dont much understand it

every time i look in the mirror its someone new who stares back at me.

a face, with features i have had since birth, changing every 34th second

yet every time i look at my reflection it is the same little girl who stared ahead at me.

a face, with features i have had since birth, the solemn look i get when the tide is just out of reach

how do i tell her i made it?

all those nights dreaming of what waking up might feel like. all those mornings still stuck in a dream.

how do i tell her that every week day i wake up at six to greet the blue haze outside my window while i dance to the radio station and put on way too much highlighter?

all those hours longing for satisfaction. all those minutes longing for routine.

how do i tell her my days are full of a life which i live?

all those poems praying for my flame. all those prayers poeticizing the mundane.

You do poems? that’s kool b/c I used to do poems during my 8th grade year- I use poems to express my feelings sometimes. Makes me happy, what about you?

Yeah I started doing poems in 8th grade too. It helps me get out of my head I don't very much like it in here but being able to see it out there makes it easier. Sometimes I write stuff that makes me happy but usually its the bad stuff that I need to get out. I've been doing good so I might post something more uplifting soon. I hope you continue writing it is a beautiful outlet.

Reblog if you ARE a woman in STEM, SUPPORT women in STEM, or ARE STILL BITTER about Rosalind Franklin not getting credit for discovering the structure of DNA and the Nobel prize going to Watson and Crick instead.

i wanted to be my firsts first and now ive lost the purity in me to something dirty and it makes me feel sick. i have nothing to repent for yet i have a need to fall to my knees and beg for something.

The anger was just boiling up. I didn't know what to do with the excess water. It was overflowing the styrofoam cup and I needed to put it somewhere. I needed to throw something. I had to punch someone so hard it hurt me more than it ever hurt them. I grabbed my scalding cup and poured. A whispering drizzle ran down the hill side drilling into the dirt digging at the rocks breaking the dam of soil to bring forth a rushing river. Hurt yourself. I pounded my fist into my thigh. Hurt yourself. I scratched at my arm nails on a chalkboard. Hurt yourself. I didn't stop when I started bleeding. Hurt yourself. My skin was stuck under my nails. Hurt yourself. I was drowning head down in the deep waters so hot it was icy cold to the touch. Hurt yourself. I liked it. That hurt the most.

If only I were pretty in the way girls should be pretty.

If I had long flowing hair and gorgeous glowing eyes.

If I sucked it in so much my stomach just stays like that

If I cut the gap into my thighs

Do you think that would work?

Remolding myself like a sculpture

scrapping away the unwanted and ugly

freeing the girl whos pretty in the right way

Being pretty because I am and not because Im not

hear me out

girl pretty

unconventional

body positivity

why can't I just be pretty?

in the way girls are supposed to be pretty

Pretty like the ocean lean and blue and bright

Pretty like the setting sky colorful and stretched and impermanent

pretty like a whoring pig in a wig

except I don't have the money for a nice wig

and Im not pretty enough to be a whore

Oh how I love the way people love. The fire filled passion dulling to the content flame of long lasting love. But even then the flame burns bright and hot as a dying star. Sometimes it even starts a wild fire. Spreading through unspoken words and the softest of kisses. Every day dream adding wood to the pile, every flirty glance keeping the flame tall and proud. Oh how I can't wait to experience the way people love. To be in love with someone, just two people working to keep their star from exploding into a nova of pain guilt and sorrow. I know some people aren't satisfied with satisfactory but oh I long to be satisfied. To grow old with my one my only and our flaming star burning as bright as the day we fell into that devastatingly dark pit. But until then I will write what I think love is and be laughed at by those who possess such bright beautiful stars.

I saw you looking

So why did you say you didn't care

why look at something you dont like

instead look at the trees blowing in the air

I caught you looking

and i caught the blush in ur cheeks

the soft smile on your lips

like the cutest little geek

I noticed you not looking

so i tried to forget

it wasnt all that hard

but then you had to look again

this time your eyes were lower

and i wouldnt have minded but

i saw you looking

then you said u didnt care

All Girls are Angels in Their Dreams.

writing: Everyone is watching and looking and judging. I'm just meat to be consumed by others, I'm for others. And I should be grateful, oh please eat me and spit out what you hate. Pretty please sink your teeth into my flesh, eat me. Don't worry about the pain, I should he grateful. I am. I am. Don't yell. Use my flesh to silence your anger, your pain. Please. Oh do I hate this dream.