Web Weaving About Loving Someone That Doesn't Love You Back Pls

It's silence I crave, it's why I swim

The weight of water

Over me

Around me-

The safe silence of submergence.

At the waters edge I may be ugly,

But underwater, we are made equal And

When I speak strokes

I Am Beautiful.

-Adaptation of my favourite book, the weight of water by Sarah Crossan

To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don’t need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself

If you wanna love the world, where do you start?

I wanna write a story

about the sun that was once my chest,

about the cloud that was once my head,

about reaching for air, how I was finally able

to fill my lungs with a single breath,

how I've learned about peace and then heard

something inside me crack.

If you wanna love the world, where do you start?

I move too fast, it's my thing

to set a pace and outrun it;

it's my thing to collect my tears just in case

all drinking water gets poisoned -

can only hope that I've cried enough

so I won't die of thirst.

If you wanna love the world, where do you start?

'Cause I can feel like I'm about to break,

again;

I remember so very clearly

how I was making deals back then

for just a splinter of, not joy,

but potential.

Cycles over cycles, little athlete, tell me -

didn't you pass yourself a million times?

Do you still mourn the dreams

you once had when you were more than stuck

and just needed to get out?

If you wanna love the world, step by step,

how do you do that without needing to resurrect;

I found my place in the world and came back from the dead,

but casket diaries, they become quite exhausting -

take a second, just imagine it,

it's no fun anymore the millionth time

'cause I know by now

how my coffin's shaped and

my fear has turned to resignation.

So how does it come the sun still hurts as badly,

so how does it come that the light on my skin

still feels like it did on the first day?

“There must be a Russian word to describe what has happened between us, like ostyt, which can be used for a cup of  tea that is too hot, but after you walk to the next room, and return, it is too cool; or perekhotet, which is to want something so much over months and even years that when you get it, you have lost the desire.”

— Barbara Hamby, from ‘Letter to a Lost Friend’ (via halcynth)

“I have no enemies, but my friends don’t like me.”

— Philip Larkin