going nowhere.
nowhere to go.
dont cry over spilled milk, spilled blood.
who could i be?
im scared of who i could be.
what i could be.
one wrong movement.
one wrong incident.
a slip in judgement, in rationality.
and im gone.
so long, goodnight.
but im not leaving.
i cant.
no matter how much.
its a waste.
choose which.
take a shot.
lives or money.
stick it out and run the risk.
17.10.2019
Stars, watch me descend.
memories.
ive blocked them out, pushed them down
far down
so deep that they disappear.
memories.
some ive written down.
boxes, blood, bruises.
truth be told,
i wonder if i have an excuse.
my life could be worse.
my life is good, right?
right?
i dont know.
you tell me.
past me.
a fucking shell.
i remember nothing.
i want to remember.
i want to remember.
fucking tell me.
tell me the truth.
i want to know why, why i am the way i am.
i only have fragments.
the glass flakes from a broken window.
what am i supposed to get from that?
behind the blogger tag
thank you, romi (xofrnk) for nominating me! if anyone other than them is reading this, go check out their blog cause its really rad!
rules:
– thank the person who nominated you
– answer all the questions
– pingback to the creator: ellyn@allonsythornaxx
– nominate 5+ bloggers to do this challenge
questions:
1) why did you start blogging and why have you kept blogging?
i started blogging as part of a class, but the stuff that id blog about was pretty much impersonal bullshit, but i started my first personal/hidden blog because i wanted to write and share stuff that was better. i later abandoned that blog because i was scared that someone i knew would find it and i would end up in deep shit. i started this blog a while after, as i missed blogging. to me, its one component of my therapy substitute.
2) what is your favorite type of blog post to write?
probably free-verse poetry that definitely belongs on some emo 16-year-olds 2005 livejournal page instead of here and now.
3) what are your top three favorite blog posts?
i really dont know. sorry.
4) what are some of your favorite things to do to relax?
i dont know how to relax unless im disassociating or asleep so thats unfortunate. to deal with stress i usually draw, play loud music, listen to music and dance (violently thrash) around, or write. i suppose i kind of relax by listening to conversation podcasts and daydreaming. but actually relaxing freaks me out and i cant.
5) what are your three favorite things?
~music (both preforming and listening to)
~my pets
~making art stuff (drawings, music, stories)
6) what are your proudest blogging moments?
probably when i actually posted. i dont post much anymore, sorry. i find it hard to have new ideas because i tend to get stuck. ive been stuck in a very similar creative stage for the past four-ish years so it doesnt differ much. i might post some stuff from a writing class i took last year.
7) what are your hobbies outside of blogging?
singing, playing guitar & piano & bass & violin, drawing, painting, writing stories, photography, reading, learning languages
8) describe your personality in three words.
vintage revenge grease.
9) what are your top three pet peeves?
oh boy, i have more than three so ill pick a category and give you the top three from there. item contact: cotton and teeth/nails, drywall/paper and dry stuff (like dried markers, nails, more paper), felt marker and rough dry wood.
i dont really have anyone to nominate, sorry. also sorry that this has taken months to post but here it is at long last. i dont have an explanation. i dont know why. but i am sorry.
09-25-2019
have some shitty poetry! im going to try non-ink inktober cause i dont have ink.
im slowly removing myself from the world.
no one knows im here.
eveybodys forgetting about me.
old friends dont answer my hellos.
they cant hear them.
i creep you out.
i am the nameless, faceless ghost
i repel.
theres just something about me.
you cant place a finger on it.
maybe its that i dont know how to exist.
i cant be taught.
i cant be here.
maybe its that i hate this place.
i hate this place.
be so kind, and pull the trigger.
09-07-2019
the second hand gets louder and louder.
i can’t stand that fucking smile on my face.
i hate the sound of my voice when it shakes.
today’s post isn’t anything special. it’s not a poetry post or anything. just my stewing. school started a while ago and I’ve had severe senioritis since junior year.
today is shitty. it’s the weekend. i can sleep. i can do laundry. i got a job, which is great. i can earn money now. eventually. i need to get a permit and go through training and all that shit first. if you wanted positivity, i suggest that you leave off here.
Today I cannot do anything right. I’ve sat at a desk for ten hours now an all I’ve done is correct a few answers and make a shitty comic strip. it feels like i can’t do anything right. it feels like i’m going nowhere. i feel talentless.
sixteen years in i remain friendless. is it seventeen? i cant even remember my own birthday. almost all of my life is a blur. maybe it’s better off this way. but i dont want it that way. i feel like i have nothing to offer to any conversation. and when i have something to say i never know how to say it. ive pretty much resigned myself to eternal solitude. god, that sounds so stupid. but it is what it is. fun just isn’t for me.
i can’t deal with fun anyway. every concert i go to, every party i attend, every time i do something enjoyable i become completely disconnected. i feel nothing. its awful. i wish i could stop it but i cant. my brain’s fucked, i guess. i can’t feel happiness but i can bask in the depths of rock bottom. thats just fucked.
i wish i lived alone. here i can’t sing. i can’t do anything. here i am plastic and set in stone. theres no growth in a puppet. i’ll reach eighteen and be a fucking infant. and ill have to stay fake to adapt to society as an adult. you cant have an adult that cant do human interaction. i cant be here.
im somewhat of an awful person. arent i old enough to make my own decisions? i should decide to be a good and genuine person. if only. thatd be a suicide mission. id get kicked out. have nowhere to go. no its a legal requirement to keep me. id just be in the worst pain ive ever experienced. no id be in the worst pain and then id be kicked out. because no one cares when it comes to teens. id be a runaway. id be hated by everyone i knew and forgotten immediately by everyone else.
no one knows me. not my so-called friends. the people i havent talked to since may. i feel like an asshole for saying it. its not their fault. its mine. i dont tell anyone anything. i dont trust anyone with anything. theres no room to form a meaningful bond. its why im so out of practice when it come to socializing. people scare me. i scare people. its just the way it is.
i just want to be something. something more than a ghost.
07-17-2019
07-06-2010.
i killed my eyes for a taste of revenge.
shot your wallet. the only thing that matters to you.
of course, i pay most of the price.
but that small dose of sweet revenge still lingers.
03-12-2015.
sometimes i wished everything would have gone according to plan.
a full dose of revenge.
but i could never see it.
and i would want to see it.
and if i exhaled one last time, i would have never existed as anything but a lie.
and it wasn’t even revenge, just a last-ditch attempt at escape you.
05-14-2020.
the only revenge is freedom.
make it and cut the ties.
but making it is tough when you have so far to go.
so far to catch up.
and luck will have to be on my side.
because i lack looks and money and talent.
and success is bitter. it’s slowly killing yourself and your morals.
but maybe it’s worth it for that lasting taste of revenge.
07-17-2019
i get it.
i finally get it.
why everybody loathes me with a burning passion.
why people look at me with an uncomfortable stare as i walk by.
i’m cold.
i’m strange.
i’m off-putting.
my eyes are dull and my blood is drained.
my skin is lifeless and waxy and blue-tinged.
i move like the creature from your nightmares.
my voice is different each time i speak.
if i speak.
i am stone-faced or i look false.
i am a walking corpse.
i want to change.
i want to exist outside of my skull.
i can’t change.
not here, not now.
it’s all survival. some half-assed attempt at hanging on.
but you, you are the one who created this monster.
why can’t you deal with it?
why can’t you face this one, simple fact?
no, no.
you have to shift the blame. to me, of course.
it’s all my fault. it’s always my fault.
it’s an endless cycle of word-slinging and gaslighting.
broken only by legal bullshit. the same legal bullshit which perpetuated it at the beginning.
and still, i never get to sever the ties.
it’s not my choice.
nothing’s a choice when it comes to me.
i am the child, lacking in significance.
freedom and happiness were never my rights.
i have nothing. i am nothing.
this is your life, right? not mine?
i wish it were mine. but reality is cruel.
and the past is but a trap for the unfortunate.
07-01-2019
my limbs are blue.
my breath exists in a bubble. a warp.
nothing exists. none of it’s real.
whose skin i’m in, it belongs to a character. one who has an empty mind.
put a needle through my finger, through the bone
i don’t feel it.
nothing can be good when it’s temporary,
but after some time it grows terrifying. never old, only terrifying.
the year is half way through, and i’m finally writing a more traditional blog post. i feel like i’ve done more with my life than i’ve done in a while. it’s good, i guess. i still have a lot of catching up to do, and not enough time. i move in a few days so i hope that i can get my shit together and learn to speak in the meanwhile. i need to make some new friends. right now i can barely carry a conversation with the few i have.
i made it about a month without dissociating. i broke that good streak today. i don’t know why it happened. usually the bouts don’t last long, but after a few hours or a few days it begins to scare me. (this is because one time i was stuck in the state for months.) and usually it’s at social events. this time i was just lazing about. hopefully it’ll dissipate after i sleep.
last night i had a weird but kind of good dream? it was one of those nearly-good dreams where you anticipate something which would be great in real life and wake up before it can happen, in a world where it will not happen. I’ve been having a lot of these types of dreams recently, or at least the dreams i remember. i don’t know why.
(if you are curious)
the dream: i got “barricade” at the frank iero and the future violents concert (at vans warped tour). i was excited because i was unable to go to any of the ones which were near me. “barricade” here was on the steps of a staircase, just above the landing (the stage was the landing). it was three hours before the performance and we (i was with a friend? i don’t know who he was in reality though) had our spaces secured and then i woke up before the actual concert.
06-20-2019
your thread is a threat.
i wish i could say that i love you,
save some sanity,
but i don’t.
and it’s better off that way.
to have blood mean nothing-
blood means nothing to me-
when these bruises are funny to you
funny to me? no, no.
but how dare i speak out against you. insult you.
and so i fake a smile.
it’s all just a game, after all.
06-06-2019
is that you or a ghost?
is this me or another face?
another phase?
another lie to stretch the days,
to keep going what little there is
under my skin?
save my face. i will
keep the pace until
i fall behind. no longer in line.
it’s where i want to be. i think.
warwornlipstick 