bunnibelle
New member
i find writing allows me to express my innermost thoughts and serves as a defense mechanism for people oftentimes soo i wanted to share smth i wrote that sort of resembles a poem, but not exactly. i'd love to hear everyone else's writing as well, just as a way to get to know one another and the experiences we collectively face and endure.
titles r important but i haven't came up with one yet
also, it's sort of long so i apologize in advance, take from it wht u will, it's meant to be abstract
I’m tired. I’m tired of the excessive honking, the nonstop bickering, the competition around me as everyone races to reach their destination, leaving pollution and chaos in their wake. The sleepless nights as I vye for silence, peace, and quiet, so I can appreciate the luminous moon I find so soothing, a blanket of darkness with specks of light pulled into sight, reminiscent of the life I live, in which my fulfillment is minuscule at best.
I’m confused. I’m confused about the rushed state all around me, as I wonder where they’re going, of this unfamiliar feeling to have a place to be. What’s the point of moving aimlessly with an obscure purpose, rather than living in the moments we so rarely appreciate, and often take for granted?
I’m angry. I’m angry that they take away my only companions, picking apart the little pieces of comfort I’ve clung to—memories, moments, fragments of peace—and stealing them away, leaving me to suffer in loneliness. The audacity they have to move forward, surround themselves with love, while I’m left with nothing but a void of absence.
I’m hurt. I’m hurt as I examine the cracks forming within me, evidence of the cruel fate I’ve been subjected to—without acknowledgment from those responsible—as a result of the constant wear and tear I’ve endured with little complaint. The cracks I carry reflect the emotions I battle in my mind, a constant struggle teetering between insanity and self control.
But most of all, I’m envious. I’m envious that they have a choice, the free will to act as they wish, rather than the confined, sedentary existence I’ve always known. I am filled with jealousy in every ounce of my being as I wonder about their profound luck, to have a place to be, a belonging, as I live the rest of my limited days in a constant state of tiredness, confusion, anger, hurt, and envy, each battling one other to consume me entirely since the day I laid hold on this earth.
Self preservation is a luxury I have long lost, and yet, although it may be foolish, I vye for an existence in which I may live a life on my terms.
I wonder which other emotions will battle for a stake in me, tearing me slowly but surely, inside and out, as I lose my consciousness and interest in this static, selfish world. And yet, it’s a punishment I unrelentingly accept, because after all, what else can I do when I’m being entirely consumed?
titles r important but i haven't came up with one yet
also, it's sort of long so i apologize in advance, take from it wht u will, it's meant to be abstract
I’m tired. I’m tired of the excessive honking, the nonstop bickering, the competition around me as everyone races to reach their destination, leaving pollution and chaos in their wake. The sleepless nights as I vye for silence, peace, and quiet, so I can appreciate the luminous moon I find so soothing, a blanket of darkness with specks of light pulled into sight, reminiscent of the life I live, in which my fulfillment is minuscule at best.
I’m confused. I’m confused about the rushed state all around me, as I wonder where they’re going, of this unfamiliar feeling to have a place to be. What’s the point of moving aimlessly with an obscure purpose, rather than living in the moments we so rarely appreciate, and often take for granted?
I’m angry. I’m angry that they take away my only companions, picking apart the little pieces of comfort I’ve clung to—memories, moments, fragments of peace—and stealing them away, leaving me to suffer in loneliness. The audacity they have to move forward, surround themselves with love, while I’m left with nothing but a void of absence.
I’m hurt. I’m hurt as I examine the cracks forming within me, evidence of the cruel fate I’ve been subjected to—without acknowledgment from those responsible—as a result of the constant wear and tear I’ve endured with little complaint. The cracks I carry reflect the emotions I battle in my mind, a constant struggle teetering between insanity and self control.
But most of all, I’m envious. I’m envious that they have a choice, the free will to act as they wish, rather than the confined, sedentary existence I’ve always known. I am filled with jealousy in every ounce of my being as I wonder about their profound luck, to have a place to be, a belonging, as I live the rest of my limited days in a constant state of tiredness, confusion, anger, hurt, and envy, each battling one other to consume me entirely since the day I laid hold on this earth.
Self preservation is a luxury I have long lost, and yet, although it may be foolish, I vye for an existence in which I may live a life on my terms.
I wonder which other emotions will battle for a stake in me, tearing me slowly but surely, inside and out, as I lose my consciousness and interest in this static, selfish world. And yet, it’s a punishment I unrelentingly accept, because after all, what else can I do when I’m being entirely consumed?