but it is in me,
this bottomless grief,
another organ in my body –
always pulsating,
always infecting,
always eager to kill.
so picture this:
you bring the fruit to your lips,
but all you taste is rotten.
picture this:
the worm has consumed
the sweetest pulps. there is nothing left,
but skin.
this bottomless grief,
another organ in my body –
always pulsating,
always infecting,
always eager to kill.
so picture this:
you bring the fruit to your lips,
but all you taste is rotten.
picture this:
the worm has consumed
the sweetest pulps. there is nothing left,
but skin.
G
rowing up is just a series
of realizations – either
FASCINATING OR DISCONCERTING.
s
omewhere, in another life-
time, I loved myself sincerely.
♥ god bless all
the rays of sunshine caught between my ribs that i (still) do not
know how to release ♥
If we had met in another lifetime, I
would’ve known which steps to take in life. I
would’ve known although he was not my father, it felt the
same when his fist collided with my face, when his fingers tore
off tufts of my hair. I would’ve known this was not love.
I would’ve never called it love in the first place.
“
the thing about having anxiety and depression is you begin to doubt yourself even when you practice self-care. you cut people out of your life – toxic relationships, bad friendships, abusive parents – because you don’t want their presence to trigger or contribute even more to your depressive thoughts, but then your social paranoia kicks in and you question your actions. “what if i was the one who was wrong?” “what if i overreacted?” “what if they’re talking behind my back?” “what if they’re angry?” “what if they’re hurt?” “what if i’m the one who is a s.hitty person?” “what if nobody likes me anymore?” and basically you feel even s.hittier and worse than before you fought for your principles and stood up against someone you thought was treating you bad.
—
Sade Andria Zabala
