Insanely Late Update On How This Went But Whatever.

the unsent project

i like to browse the unsent projects messages, and make myself feel sad over all the lost love in the world

i search up my name over and over, obsessively

i search up your name over and over, obsessively

they say we reflect the love we are shown

and maybe there is something in that, because when i look up your name there are hundreds of messages

and when i look up mine

there are two

i sent some of the messages to you

and when i scroll through every dark green one catches my eye

and the really pathetic thing is that i don't remember which ones i sent

maybe what we had wasn't so special if i am mistaking others messages for mine

i dont know

but i do know that you probably never search for my name

and you have certainly never sent me a message

under the x-ray all i am is you

i think if they put me under an x-ray

they would see every place you ever touched me

they would see a deep green glow over my heart, a forest of pine up the inside of my leg, a radioactive sheen over my knuckles.

they would see cool and fresh mint leaves where my eyes should be, and poison ivy intertwined with my rib cage

everything you ever did for me, everything you ever did to me

i carry it all

When Dostoevsky said, "Pain changes you, but it teaches. That is its mercy." but Kafka said, "Pain changes nothing. It just repeats itself until you forget who you were before it started."

btw forgive and forget is a myth, you can forget sure, for your own peace, but forgiveness is not necessary, you are not sanctified by your loving and forgiving nature btw. you can hate forever and its ok <3

(this is about my history teacher)

quality over quantity

there's a story my dad always tells me about a man who is trying to cut a huge tree down. and he has been at it for hours, his arms are aching, hes exhausted, but the tree is slowly but surely being cut down. the problem is that he has been going for so long that his axe is really blunt. so another guy comes up to him and asks him why he is trying to work with a blunted axe, pointing out that it is so much easier to take a quick break to sharpen your axe and then start work again. but the man refuses, saying that he is being productive at the moment, and he cannot possibly waste time sharpening the axe because he has other tasks to get onto.

if he sharpened the axe the tree would come down faster, and he would have time for the other things he wants to do.

it is far better to take a 30 minute break, take time to jog around the block, make a cup of tea, eat a quick snack, than to try and solidly work for hours and hours.

yes technically you spent more time working, but you probably would have gotten more stuff done if you took a break and refreshed your brain.

sharpen your axe!!

Wikipedia / Image from pinterest / Machiavelli / George Santayana / Thucydides / Image from pinterest / Abba - Waterloo / J. M. Barrie - Peter Pan / Fibonacci spiral / Catherynne M. Valente

sometimes when you look at someone and think “ughhh i wish that was me” what you’re really feeling isn't jealousy. you don’t want to be them. you want to feel like you but braver, freer, softer, louder, whatever they’re reminding you of

we grow up being told to compete but healing girlhood teaches that you can feel inspired without feeling small. you can let someone’s light show you where yours is dim. you can see beauty in someone else and use it as a mirror, not a measuring stick

so next time you feel that burn in your chest, pause and ask yourself: what part of me is waking up when i look at them? what dream of mine are they unknowingly touching? because that’s not jealousy. that’s a version of you (not yet born) whispering “hey! we could do that too <3”

the killing of the weeds

we've all been told that they pick the flowers they think are the prettiest

and they do, they pluck the beautiful ones when they are young and they display them for all to see

but hidden away behind this is their treatment of the less beautiful ones

the ivy and and the dandelions - the 'weeds'

a weed is not a specific breed or family of plant, a weed is defined as 'a wild plant growing where it is not wanted and in competition with cultivated plants'

a weed is any plant that does not conform

a plant that is wild and unruly and a law unto itself

a plant that challenges the status quo, the norm

a plant that grows in competition, a plant thats non-conformance makes it brighter and bolder and braver

i can tell you what they do with those plants

they rip them out

they try and remove the roots as best as they can, to try and remove any chance of the resilient weed bouncing back up

they pour weed-killers, harsh chemicals designed to destruct

and they do so repeatedly

the forceful and ferocious beating down of those that dare to be different

the killing of the weeds

no one cares about that

they kill the weeds

also a poem from the new, unreleased collection. very possibly my own all-time favourite.