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littlemissinvisble

It's a bubbly life ^~^

Fell off the face of the earth

Kind of feels like I’m not really sure what to write on here anymore. That wouldn’t be necessarily wrong, but it’s kind of disappointing. I sort of fell off the face of the earth and just stopped writing at all. My eyes have been so incredibly watery all damn day long it’s ridiculous. It just hurts. That’s not really what hurts though. What really hurts is that I try so hard, but I’ll never be good enough for anyone. That’s ridiculous.

-You dress up for other people, but not for me. (Yes, because I feel comfortable around you. I don’t feel like I have to impress you, but I guess I was wrong.)

-You don’t get to tell me what to do. (Ok, but yet you get to tell me what to do?)

You confuse me so much, but I try my best to decipher you. It’s like I am never allowed to be down when I’m with you which is stupid because everyone has a bad day once in awhile, but you expect me to always have a perfect mood. I’m not allowed to leave if I’m unhappy with the situation either or at least I don’t feel like I can. I owe a lot to you. I don’t want to leave you behind ever so I’ll do what it takes to make you stick around. Whether that means faking happiness or doing everything you tell me to.

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The last time I posted was 3 months ago.

The last time I wrote a post was nearly 3 months ago needless to say it’s been awhile. Ok, maybe more than awhile. I guess I’ve just been avoiding thinking so much about everything. I’ve been too busy working and with school to write whether it be on this site or just for fun. I haven’t written any poetry or short stories in awhile. I’ve been ultra x10000000000000000000000000000000000000 focused on getting through senior year and it’s only the end of the first quarter coming up, but I think I’ve really taken the time to academically get myself into a good place.

Unfortunately, a lot has happened I’ve shut myself off from people. My older brother passed away nearly a month ago now and it hurts that he’s gone, but what hurts even worse is seeing everyone else in so much pain while all I feel is numbness. I felt nothing regarding his passing until I saw his body in the casket. It looked nothing like him. It looked like a wax figurine from one of those creepy museums. Reality kicked me in the stomach and I couldn’t breathe as I looked at his cold dead body. It wasn’t the brother I used to know it was just the fragments he left behind of himself. It was just a sad excuse of closure he left for us . The last time I had talked to him had been christmas. He seemed fine, but then I came to the conclusion that I am just like him. I bottle everything inside me until I burst and it’s so much agony that I don’t want to live anymore, but I keep smiling because I feel guilty for feeling the way that I do when things are “fine.” None of my attempts worked. When I was in the hospital I felt ashamed and embarrassed to even be in inpatient with all these other suicidal teenagers. I felt embarrassed of my suicidal ideation even though it wasn’t my fault that my brain is completely and utterly screwed up beyond repair. I wonder if that’s what he felt like too. I wonder if he felt that it was all his fault that he couldn’t be happy despite so much good in his life. What’s the point of living in a world where everyone is self diagnosing themselves?

This is just a rant. My inner thoughts…I’m not currently this depressed and things have been looking up for me, but this still weighs heavily on my mind. I know it’s morbid to read, but that’s just how things are right now. They are morbid and dissatisfactory.

-xoxo feel the waves man be one with the waves.

Title 

Trembling at 5:54 a.m.                               Led Zeppelin a mere whisper.                Static. 

Senior year? Adult? I’m not ready…it’s too much. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m not me anymore. 

Manic pixie dream girl. 

A bubbly cinematic stock character Under the paint of carousel lights    A perfect impresssionistic painting A beautiful face, but not in the way one would think so. 

Pointillism marks encompass your entire being darling.                             Glass jagged it imprinted all the lies you told yourself into your skin.           You were a manic pixie dream girl, but didn’t serve any purpose in his plotline. 

Everything. 

This darling is all the fucked up things you ever said to me over the course of our 6 months together. I’m just jotting them down real quick to release them from my thoughts. 
Here: 

“I wish I had never taken you to meet my mom.” 

“What future? You don’t have one.” 

“Don’t spread your diseases to other people.” 

“Just do your work a favor and end yourself you’re worthless.” 

“I love you.” 

“Oh are you just going to shut down.” 

“How typical the silent treatment.” 

“You suck at doggy style.” 

“Well aren’t you a joy to be around in the morning.” 

“We’re never going out to eat again you can’t even fucking finish your food.” 

To be continued whenever you manipulate me into staying with you. I know the game…act nice until I fall back into the trap. 

Hi, 4th of July. 

The universe fucked me over. I didn’t consent to it. Does that technically mean the universe raped me? Damn. Shit. 

I was dizzy and tripping over my own feet. Everything was spinning. My eyesight was blurry. It was an impressionistic painting. I wanted realism, but I’m not sure I’m even in touch with that anymore. Reality. I collapsed against the shower wall and look at you water dripped. down both of us. I scraped against the wall and you washed me off. I could feel peach-a-Rita ready to make its way back up the wrong way, but I kept still. 

“Get your balance in check before we go to fireworks.” 

“Stay close to me that way there won’t be any trouble,” you scolded. 

Why would there be trouble? Some hoodrat kid wouldn’t do anything in front of all these people. Would they? I was dressed somewhat appropriately. With this generation there isn’t appropriate. 

Golden pixie dust glistened from the heavens over and over again. I leaned up against you. I didn’t think I believed in soul mates, but maybe I did. 

Today. 

The day started out well. My parents were gone on a trip to Michigan which made me very happy. I could do as I pleased and saw fit. I saw the new pirates of the Caribbean movie. It was amazing I’ll have you know. Tied for first place with the first one for sure. I got out of the movie and turned my phone back on and there’s a text and a missed call. Get home and she starts screaming at me and mocking me about my cigarettes she found from rifling through my dresser. I proceeded to yell at her that she should’ve stayed in Michigan cause I don’t want her here. 

1 a.m. He comes to get me in his red car. We drive into the night and I talk to him in a raspy voice because it feels like there’s a golf ball lodged in there. I tell him things like I replaced cutting with smoking and the point was to hurt myself and my health. I feel more calm. We cruise around for a little bit. We end up in a church parking lot. I hate religion because of my parents and upbringing. He gently grabs my hands and pulls me out of the passenger seat into the night. His hands are all over my body and the stress goes away. He opens the back door and I bend over obediently. It’s a literal fuck you to “god.” 

“Fuck me like a dirty little whore daddy,” I whined. He pulls my red hair and I feel lost in the moment. My phone is sitting in the passenger seat. 

“Baby?” The screen lit up. I feel no sense of guilt. You’re insane and you hurt me. I don’t want you to touch me ever again, but you had to come into my work and harass me and now you’re ruining my euphoria. Earlier I had said I would start taking care of myself and that sleeping around didn’t help, but it felt so good with him. It felt right. It doesn’t feel right with you anymore. It never felt right. I never felt safe and was always afraid you would hurt me. You did hurt me, I wasn’t wrong. 

Zach. 

Zach. 

You sat across from me with your coffee mug 

Black with no sugar. 

I glanced out the window watching the snowfall

And Madelyn sledding down the hill. 
In her innocence I saw us 

You making hot cocoa with the carefullest delicacy 

After us sledding in -20 degree temperature.

You building a snow fort

Crowning me princess of the castle. 
Christmas music plays fuzzily in the background.

I watch you look dully at your phone

While mom asks how college is. 

It takes me back to when you sang me Christmas hymns 

In a Mickey Mouse voice. 
Mom leaves us alone 

And almost immediately your face turns cold

You insist that mom forced us 

kicking and screaming into this existence.

That every day is a struggle to breathe.
I stare at your body posture

Your hands are wrapped so tightly around the mug that it might break. 

You are a cold engineer fixing capitalism now

Making small talk about the bourgeoisie.

My name isn’t Karen darling. 

My name isn’t Karen darling.
The rose petals make a beautiful canvas 

of broken promises and sweet nothings you made to me. 

I am bent over cigarette ashes 

My high heels have rubbed into mosaic.
I look down the moonlit street.

The wind blows creating a secondhand made symphony. 

It is bittersweet music to my ears 

And as the wind picks up and the rain makes a soft

1,2,1,2,1,2,3.
I laugh hysterically because you promised me a dance in the rain,

But instead we ended up in Minneapolis traffic high. 

My throat burnt with the temporary happiness and nostalgia. 

Even now outside on the steps I felt that same familiar burning come back.
The thunder makes a deep yell across the 2:45 a.m. Mural of green and grey

I softly whisper back to it, “Fuck you Karen.” 

It picks up faster and faster 

The scattered rose petal promises blow away. 
The thunder crescendos to a mezzo forte 

And my desperation to be free intensifies.

Until finally I cut the strings holding my thought process 

In this weeping willow.

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