If I Were A Runner I'd Be A Sprinter

am i girl blog shit posting now?

who knows~

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

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.

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?

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.

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.

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'

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

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.

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.