Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can’t say

31/07/24

I tried to cut my nose off to spite my face 

It seems I’m not spiteful enough to push through the pain. 

Are you prepared for everything to be a letdown? I'm told constantly “people let you down” as if I don’t know. As if I haven’t known. I know all too well. When is too young to learn? Then

I can pick out that day when I learned. I don’t remember the colour of the car but I remember the humiliation and you weren’t there and you should’ve been there and she was there like she always is. 

Do you seriously expect to walk me down the aisle? 

Sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills

I’ve already given up on getting out. I’d rather stay comfortable and complain about what I could’ve been than get out of here and be something. 

They were all something at 17. What am I? I want to break out but I haven’t got the right stuff. I’ve got six months.

Why do bad people make good art? I am mediocre so my art is mediocre. Does God choose? Choose who gets these gifts, these chances. Do you learn it? Or are you shaped by your pain. I always believed the latter but nowadays I wonder if I am just not the right candidate to be bestowed such gifts.

I walk the line 

The line between total isolation and being what I should be. 

She doesn’t like me. She loves me but I’m not what she wants. She wishes I was different. Had long hair and kept my mouth shut. I wish I could too. I wish my tongue wasn’t as cruel. I wish my tongue was as beautiful as theirs. I wish I didn’t say those things under my breath. I wish we were better. I wish I was better. And that she could get better. 

I promise I don’t hate myself. I promise I’m not falling apart. I promise there’s no point in trying to fix me 

I’m not broken 

He thought I was broken. He was never good at fixing things. He gave up pretty quick. He never really realised that, just because my skin is cracking and the paint is chipping and my hair is going grey, I’ve never been broken. I was just built wrong. Wrong in his eyes

I keep trying to be this spectacle. This dancer or other beauty. That’s not the kind of performance that suits me. I think it’d be more beautiful to spill my guts on stage like the greats

Which came first, the music or the misery? 

I’m so angry about so many things and nothing. What do I have to be angry about? The things that upset me happened so long ago. They mean nothing anymore. They shouldn’t mean anything. Why am I still talking about them. Why am I still talking. I need to get a grip. I need to see him and give in. I need to forget. I need to forgive. I’ll never do either. We’re not the same. He got on, gets on. I never have, never will. 

How many times do I have to grieve someone who lives a car ride away? 

How many times will I punish myself for things I have/had no control over? 

As many times as it takes to feel comfortable in this skin

Singin’ in the rain

I need more. In my town there are just under 2000 people 17 and under. There’s no one here. I love this town more than I let know. I love the sweet air. The flickering lampposts in the rain. I love the old walls that have stood the test of time. I need more. 

Often I say that I hate something. Really I mean that it means a lot and I have loved it but now it’s too painful. I don’t hate anything or anyone. I just needed them to stop. 

The following will not address him directly 

Only she knows that I cried over him. She won’t remember and he’ll never know. I sat behind that shed in my best winter coat, my mothers old coat, at a “party” with people I hated and cried over someone who happened 4 years before. I never cared before. Why did I care then. I changed then. Looked through a different lens. 

Don’t they say that within seven years all your cells have been replaced by new ones? Theseus’ ship. My body, a vessel. 

(Vessel, he taught me that word)

Maybe my eyes changed then. Maybe the tears stained them a new colour. I hate the sound of your voice. Whenever I hear it I sing lyrics in my head to drown you out. It doesn’t work, you’re too fucking obnoxious. 

I’ve addressed him. I didn’t mean to 

This is why I hate you. You made me angry. You made me hateful. When I shout at her I can hear you shouting at me and I am disgusted with myself. Are you ever disgusted with yourself? Don’t you dare talk to her like that.  

Past, passed 

So what happened? My body is too fragile to be broken again. It’s not that I’m made of china or porcelain, but my skin can only scar so many times before it’s too much 

They’re fading. My scars are fading. I had scars on my knees. You can’t see them. Where’s my proof that I’ve been hurt? That I’ve lived? 

I don’t want to be hurt but at least I haven’t given up yet. I know I can still be hurt. I know I still have a heart. And we’re further apart than ever before. I have more freedom than ever and I don’t use it for you. Do you hate me? Does resentment sit under your skin when you think about those songs. Or is that just me? I’m scared you wrote them for me. I’m scared to learn what the names mean. Done ever tell me. Please 

Need you like water in my lungs 

Despite the way I talk, I know it’s out there. There’s something waiting for me. There’s something waiting for all of us. Love, life, and everything in between. But can you blame me for being so cynical? I fall asleep to lullabies of love lost to gore and gambling. I shouldn’t have been given bedroom speakers. This is what happens when you fall head over heals for a concept. An idea of who you could be, to myself, to others, if we all agreed to stay above the surface. 

Underneath are the ships, abandoned. Underneath is the truth. The truth about whatever you need. You can find your answers in everything. 

I’m obsessed with sinking ship and loose lips 

I’m going down // you’re going down - we’re not the same 

You wouldn’t have gotten the reference 

Hope you’re all ok

Northern downpour sends it’s love