liggy-attempts-poetry

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

my mouth is tied

with the strings of helplessness

where do I run to

where do I hide

i can never speak up

never speaking my mind

where do I run to

where do I hide

i'm scared to speak the truth

in fear of hurting you

who do I run to

where do I hide

you are my safety

you are my home

who do I run to

cause i don't want to hurt you

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

currently missing julie and the phantoms

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

lil adhd shitpost/poem

mom interrupts me working on homework and asks me to clean my room

cleaning leads to playing guitar

guitar leads to writing

writing leads to reading

reading leads to plotting cosplays

plotting leads to a closet reorganization

while organizing i realize i never ate dinner.

i leave the mess.

returning to the mess leads to cleaning

cleaning leads to playing with toys from when i was five

toys add to the mess

the bigger mess leads to overwhelm

overwhelm leads to doom scroll

scrolling leads to napping

now mother, how the fuck am i supposed to have time to do my homework?

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

My little sibling wrote this, and I thought it explained my ADD brain super well 👀

“My mind is a strainer. Yes, that means much what is poured in is quickly lost. But unlike all you bowls out there, it makes sure to leave only the things I need the most.

You can keep your oil, you can keep your sauce, I'm sure you find it fine. No doubt that fluff serves its purpose in your fancy little mind.

But don't you diss my strainer, it does its job quite swell. You may like your pretty bowl, but my strainer fits me well.”

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

Attention. Deficit. Hyperactivity. Disorder.

I can be Anxious, Doubtful, Hopeful, Depressed — all in the time it takes me to dress. I feel Amazing, Dreary, Hopeless and Dope — all mixed together, so how do I cope? Not Ambitious, Decisive, Happy or Deep — some days all I do is sit here and weep. I’m Achy, Damaged, Habitual, Daft — I wonder how long this will sit in my drafts? I’m Average, Defensive, Huffy and Droll — I want to know more now, I’m searching my soul. I’m Awkward, Delicate, feel Hapless and Dense — when will this start to make some sort of sense? I feel Annoying, Different, Honest and Dark — life has a great way of leaving its mark…

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

SOMEONE DRAW THIS AS JAMES POTTER AND SIRIUS BLACK RIGHT NOW

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

bro i left to send a text and wanted to check tumblr rq before going to bed and i genuinely was so happy when i saw all the notifs from u 🥹

👀

i see u stalkin my blog

ty for the validation it’s very appreciated 🥹🥹

Hiiiiii

You’re so sweet :0

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

someday all my friends will die

and i very selfishly hope i beat them to it

because i know i’d spiral down in my head

if any of them left

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

twig

looking in the mirror, sometimes i hate who i see.

i hate that i can see every vertebrate through my shirt and how they don’t line up right.

i hate that i can feel every piece of my knee just by putting my hand there.

the blue veins that pop up over the bones on my freakishly thin hands.

“i wish i had that problem” some tell me.

“it can’t be that hard to fix though” others say.

“that’s invalidating people who do struggle” even more scold.

but i struggle too.

and i struggled before in the way you want me to.

would my struggle be enough if i died from it?

would you even care if i did?

no.

because apparently hating the way you appear is only okay if you’re not built like a twig.

and i used to think so too.

so i know what you think.

you want to be skinny so you tell me i’m not allowed to hate myself for it.

but what you don’t realize is you want to be skinny, not twiggy

because nobody likes someone who’s twiggy.

and nobody likes being twiggy either.

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

five simple tasks turn into fifteen thousand complex thoughts

maybe i will, maybe i won’t

i wish i couldn’t feel, but yet i don’t

but today i do because there’s too much

too many things to do

too many thoughts to process

too many things on the floor

not enough space on the shelf

i just need a break

i keep telling myself

the break turns into hours of inactive

soon noon becomes night

plans become a thing of the past

and so does my will to live.

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

I DIDNT CALL IT SHITTY OK

saw my ex best friend at work.

totally didn’t cry.

she’s moving across the country in a week and still thinks i hate her/don’t care abt her.

the friendship ending was both our responsibilities, i will admit i messed up pretty bad.

i tried to look for her bc she left the ride right as my shift change got in but i couldn’t find her anywhere so now i’m sitting here under a tree crying.

i wanted her to at least know i cared.

anyway time for sad girl poetry now.

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

feels like there’s a knife in my heart

wedged right in the crack from when we fell apart.

you got away as quick as lighting

so fast i’m not sure you were ever there.

told myself “she has to be near”

but like always, you’d disappeared.

i wish i could take back every word i said to you that night.

because despite lasting several years after

that was the night we really fell apart.

if i could take it back, we’d both still be friends

or at least on good terms

before our time near one another ends.

but i can’t take it back.

the knife goes deeper.

my sapphire blue polo stained a deep wine red.

but only i can see it.

and every thought i have of you causes me to drive the knife further into my heart.

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

i’ve never understood why some people associate with me.

they have so many better people to hang around, why me?

thinking about it makes me fall apart.

run, while you still can.

while i still don’t mind it too much.

before i let my walls all the way down.

before leaving smashes my heart to smithereens

shards scattered around

the largest piece of me being smaller than a fingernail

and the only memory of who i was resides with you.

oops

too late.

if you’ve read this far

you’re already stuck.

but leave if you need to

everyone does.

and watch as my life fades into the dust.

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

is there a point i’ll get to

where it’s all going to click

where when i ask questions

i won’t be called a bitch

when sleep comes peacefully

and i remember to eat

i enjoy working

despite the pain in my feet

will there come a time

when it all clicks

when the efforts i put in

will actually stick

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

paper cuts

unintentional insults are like paper cuts while doing origami.

one is fine, put a bandaid on if necessary. laugh it off.

two messes with your mood, makes you think “how do i manage do end up like this?”

three makes you mad for a few minutes, at yourself and the paper.

four just kills your mood. you no longer want to make beautiful cranes and flowers.

it makes you want to cut it all up with the scissors.

but you know you’ll regret that later.

so you do nothing.

you let it keep happening.

four, five, six.

“just keep folding” you tell yourself, “just finish these last few and then i’m done.”

but soon the edges of all the papers are stained a deep red

and your fingers look like you dragged them along rose stems.

seven, eight, nine.

you finally try to decide to wash your hands.

the soap gets in the cuts as they all burn in agony.

why does it hurt this much?

something so small shouldn’t hurt this much.

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

[good name goes here]

I know i’m not unique

just another line in the book

never able to repeat

go back and start anew

i wonder if you know me

if you care that you do

uncertainty will be my demise

pacing back and forth

forgetting which ways north

how do i appease you

knowing who you are now

never knowing what’s true

they say things 

i don’t understand

thorns behind my back

are hard to comprehend 

my voice feels like it’s falling away

dreaming of words i can’t say

i think of you every time

how can i live this life

-melon

[liggy-attempts-poetry]

you better not ever deactivate anymore i have ptsd

Guys I’m never deactivating again

Everything in the world is right