Category: A Journal of Sorts

I am an incredibly soft/sensitive, readable, and emotional person but no one is allowed to know. 

your path is a lonely one, a narrow one, a long one. But I will promise to try and remember how kind you are, and how sweet your favor is. I will do my best to remember you. And if it comes to a choice, I will choose you. Because I am strong enough to. …

It is so easy to forget. It’s easy to forget that you make your bed only to mess it up again. To forget that you actually don’t like sweater weather as much as you thought Or that you think the scorching heat of summer sucks even more. It’s easy to forget that you actually enjoy…

Welp, this is going to be a long post, I’m sorry. I’ve been having a really difficult time emotionally, and for me it’s become really obvious in the last few months. I have done a really shitty job of taking care of myself. I’ve been having a real hard time sleeping and waking up on…

A letter to myself, when I was young. (In response to this post) You won’t always be ineloquent; someday words will flow the way they’re supposed to, (even if it’s never perfect) You don’t ramble, my dear, your words are valuable but sometimes it’s hard to hear with all the thoughts dying to be spoken,…

Why can’t I say what I think?  Is it so hard to flow? Random and Ramble, don’t hear me please. I’ll regret what I said. Awkward, crumbled, blemished, and bruised. Words that I use prove useless as I slaughter every word I say.  Helplessly hoping that senseless sentences will hold what I mean.  Even words…

May 30th, 2021 It’s past midnight.  I have so much to confess, but with each utterance, it feels heavier. The burden lifted only clears way for weight. What do I do with myself? I find myself, again, confused.  I feel like everything I want is slipping through my fingers, the next wrung is just out…

I don’t want it… If it is my gift, truly, to feel everything so innately, so skeletal, then I don’t want it. I am a thief of feeling, I take other’s emotions and stash them so close to my core it fucking hurts.  And the worst part is, I’m not even good at empathy. I…

And yet, this cycle seems never-ending, so deeply in the process of being too young, yet so old. The weight I bear tears me down, but my burden is nothing. I think harder though I know I have the intelligence to find a better way. But I can’t? Why can’t I? It’s the simple things…