My Thougts - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
an appreciation for forests including my own slightly macabre twist on how to look at them and what they hold
i'm not entirely sure what it is about them, but their slow-paced energy and calming pulse of soft yet unstoppable force has always take my breath away.
the way its never silent equally amazes me, there will always be sound, some kind of noise, some sort of thrumming, and even if its your own heartbeat slowing down to match the calm pulse of nature itself, there is never silence that needs to be drowned out. only silence that needs to be kept safe. hidden from those desperate to ruin it. silence that needs to be protected by whatever means necessary.
resting on dampened forest ground like a cooling carcass, ready to be taken apart entirely by the next scavenger to stumble upon my being would be an honour. it would be to give back to nature what it has given me. it would be to be reclaimed entirely. my rotten soul being cleansed, no evil left in anyone who gives back fully to nature. my rotten being, since no one is clean in comparison to forests, surely not me, taken apart, reused in nature like it's meant to be.
i only wish to end as what i truly am, lying on sun-warm grass, giving back everything.
thoughts 0.1
Sometimes I struggle to believe things can come to an end. It's like things can't just stop right? I feel like there has to be more to it. Christians believe that there is a heaven and a hell, many other religions believe in different thins for the afterlife. The key word in all of this is 'believe' no one truly knows what happens and I think that's what unsettles me most. I have a feeling that there is something after we die but I don't know what. I've always been a big believer of ghosts but as I've grown up it always goes back to the question of 'not everyone turns into a ghost/spirt. So where are the rest of them? Do they go to a good place., bad place or even a neutral place. What defines you to go to these specific places?
I moved to a new city,
To a new place,
To a new continent,
To prove I am confident
And it feels as if I
Haven’t been who I am
Who I lost to become
Who I longed to be
And everything I think of
Is to preserve myself
Protecting myself from
Sharp tongues
behind white smiles
Daring moves
Behind delicate silhouettes
Along defiant stares
Behind charming eyes
Does that mean I’m not that confident?
My thoughts went missing years ago, but I can't even find them on a milk carton. They left no footprints and forgot to take the pain away.
Maybe I cry the ocean
-
In the last few weeks I have felt numb, still do and I'm not even sure if a few weeks is enough. It feels like years.
The ocean in my head is drowning everything out. In the far distance, I can hear the 52hz whale crying, but I can't answer. Water stops my voice and fills my lungs. I can't breath, but my heart beats faster than I can count.
I don't have the energy to stay afloat, so I'm sinking like a wrack. The darkness beneath me grabs my feet and pulls me down. I close my eyes, waiting to hit the ground.
I don't feel it. As I open my eyes to look down, all I see is black. I know that down there is a ground. Nothing is infinite. I just don't see it. I can't see it.
While still sinking, the world of creatures swims by me. Beautiful and ugly, tiny and big. I try to touch a shiny fish but it swims away.
I cry. At least I think I do. My tears immediately mix with the water of the sea. I can't tell them apart. The deeper I sink the more I get pulled down. Harsh. It will probably leave markes on my skins.
I try to scream but every last breath of mine seems to be made of the sea. Or my tears.
Maybe I'm drowning in my tears.
Maybe I cry the ocean.
I feel so dead inside that I don’t think anyone can actually hurt me
When I feel sad, I watch sad movies and cry for hours. The feeling afterward is kind of liberating."
#
"While you live, shine"
Journal entry; December 30, 2023
I am gloriously aware of my immortality, when before, in my childhood, it was only a faint misunderstanding. Je sais très bien maintenant. And such as it is, life, in its nuances, may not be so different from death, in the most empathetic and hopeful way
Sometimes, my writing flows in a deliberate way, yet I somehow do not understand the breadth of what I mean. These words belong to me, but only as an extension of certain thoughts and feelings. Language is terribly beautiful and useful, but always lacking in some desperate way.
