"tired af"
18 she/her
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https://blog.spacehey.com/lejenaveclefen
Category: Writing and Poetry
i see her from before language she was not a mirror though she insisted on resembling one she was another fall with my name we did not speak (not knowing how is also a form of abandonment) she had her cracks i had mine and between us a house without doors sometimes i wanted to stay but closeness was a blade and my words— poor wounded animals— would bite i watch » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
It is not the body that trembles first. It is the space we inhabit. Something falls out of place in the air when you are there, as if the world lost a minimal measure and could no longer hold itself the same way. It is not fear. It is an attention too open, a sudden way of being awake even with closed eyes. The objects remain where they are— the table, the light, the distant noise. But something m... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
It is not the water that unsettles me, but the distance that binds us. The shore holds a brief tremor, a way of being without advancing. The body understands first that not every impulse asks for a fall. I watch the movement of the waves repeat. Always the same. Always different. There is no decision in this waiting. Only a minimal tension, almost invisible, occupying the chest. To take a step wou... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
A father should be the first boundary of the world. Not to confine you, but to know how far you can extend yourself. In his gaze you learn whether your mere existence is enough or whether it must be justified. When that affirmation exists, doubt does not rule. One may make mistakes, but will not surrender out of fear. When it is absent, instead, life becomes a search without a name. You don’t know... » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
There are days when I want to break something. Not out of precise rage, but to hear a clear sound, something that confirms I can still alter the world. I walk measuring my steps, controlling my tone, being careful, proper, reasonable. I am tired of being reasonable. I would like to make mistakes without calculation, to say the inappropriate thing, to laugh too loudly in the least appropriate place... » Continue Reading
— 7 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
Something is broke— broke like my soul, perfumed with jasmine and the stench of sorrow, a mood steeped in nostalgia and a broken record that spins until my thoughts explode— yet somehow, it makes me feel like nothing. Nothing to care about. Nothing worth loving. I tried, God, I tried. But inside… I’m hollow— a cemetery filled with shadows, ghosts that know my name, » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
Something has shattered deep inside me— not bone, not blood, but something older, quieter, more sacred than even I can name. I carry its absence like a wound without a body, an echo in a cathedral whose god has long since left. I do not know what I lost, only that it mattered more than breath. And yet— I walk. I smile. I pass through days as if the » Continue Reading
— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
Hi, I don’t know what made me think of you today. Maybe it was the way the light fell through the window. Maybe it was nothing at all. Grief works like that, I guess— quiet until it isn’t. I always knew this would happen. We all do, don’t we? We say things like “someday” and “when the time comes,” as if saying it out loud will soften the blow. But it doesn’t. It just delays it. » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
When I was young, there was a house I went to in my mind— simple, quiet, soft with light, where everything made sense. I didn’t have to earn the warmth there. It was just given. Like air. Like sunlight through the window on a good day. Like someone humming in another room because they forgot they weren’t alone. It wasn’t perfect— but I belonged. I’d go there wi » Continue Reading
Category: Writing and Poetry
There’s this feeling that follows me— not loud, not sharp— just empty. A silence where emotion used to live, a stillness that feels more like collapse than calm. I wake up tired, even when I’ve slept. I move through the day like I’m dragging the weight of a thousand invisible battles. And maybe I am. Because inside— there’s a war. Betwee » Continue Reading
— 4 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
There are nights when I don’t want to die, but I don’t really want to live either. Not like this. Not with this constant hum beneath my skin— anxiety, guilt, the kind of sadness that doesn’t scream, just whispers endlessly that I’m not enough. Sometimes I think about tearing pieces of myself away. Not to disappear, but to understand what hurts so much. To trace it, name it, mayb » Continue Reading
— 1 Comment— 2 Kudos
Category: Writing and Poetry
There’s this person. You probably know someone like them. The kind of person who walks like the world opens for them. Who speaks, and people listen. Who exists, and it feels effortless. I don’t want to be them out of jealousy. It’s not about envy. It’s about the way they wear their confidence like a second skin— and how I shrink inside my own. I watch the way they move, how thei » Continue Reading
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