#@runerosen

[runerosen]

Stand

A foundation, firm and strong

standin' 'gainst the adverse wind,

blowin', crashin', whirlin' o'er it.

I will always stand.

Slimy lies creep down from atop,

poisonin' thoughts with a touch,

stickin', slidin', taintin' it crawls.

I hope I always stand.

Lime with anxiety as the lies freeze

in foundation's every crack;

breakin', fracturin', openin' all o'er.

How long will I stand?

A crime, it seems, to capture one

for meetin' standards to stay.

Rattlin', creakin', wailin' jail bars sing;

I cannot continue to stand.

Time has risen for the takin' as I fall

'to the deepest of chasms.

Screamin', weepin', lustin' for help;

I shall ne'er 'gain stand.

[unhingedrunerosen]

[randomfaxforyou]

Lina Medina

Did you know?

[runerosen]

congrats.

I know that it’s already been said,

But I have no reason to not reiterate it:

When you clap for those you see,

I hope and I pray that you chose to think.

Congratulating those with disability,

It’s not honorable like what people perceive.

A simple task for you and me, it’s true,

Is different for those who need accommodations.

The saddest thing is that we all clap,

When they complete a task that’s a part of their daily life.

Whether that disability is visible or not,

Whether it is mental, physical, or otherwise stated,

It needs to be said that just because a person is disabled they do not need to be congratulated.

A/N: Some of my posts will tackle real and controversial problems with my opinion, belief, or a way to change ourselves. I have seen this happen too many times in life, and it is not out of jealousy that I wrote this, but out of grief. Why should something you can’t control be the indirect cause for attention and applause? I know those with physical disabilities that have spoken on this before, but mental disorders are also a cause for it. While my life and experiences are useless, I have gotten comments on ‘I look good’ when I lose weight when, in fact, a symptom of my overwhelming depression. I would get pity eyes for being bullied to the point of suicide, I got the weird stares when I was open about my Bipolar II diagnosis. It sucks. But I have never felt more hurt than when people comment on my weight and when they congratulate me for staying out a mental hospital or for even completing tests (I have ADHD). Feel free to ask me anything, just repost this or comment on this post with your question and I’ll do my best to answer as I prefer not to use private messages for personal reasons. Thank you for time.

— R. R.

[runerosen]

Pain and Decay

How to recover from the pain,

Of being used, broken, and thrown away.

Whatever else must I attain,

To avoid even more mental decay?

[runerosen]

The Addictive Drug Epitome

The epitome of an addictive drug,

I'm tossed to and fro, to all people.

Used by most who set eyes on me,

I am left with the feeling of empty.

The epitome of an addictive drug,

I'm thrown away by the good ones.

Those who step in, help the abusers,

Leave me to wail in pure agony.

The epitome of an addictive drug,

The cycle of usage and discardment.

Until authority figures find use for it,

Then abuse it, wickedly smiling.

I am the epitome of those addictive drugs,

The enslaving cures you all know so well.

Yet naysayers and haters may come my way,

All because I was used against my will.

Because if we do not see abuse, then it mustn't exist.

If we do not see physical scars, there is nothing wrong.

But little do you know, each time this happens, I break.

For a physical injury may heal, but the mental ones do not.

[runerosen]

I Need More Help Than This

I need help, there’s no other way for me. My situation is terrible, I’m losing faith. The torture turns me into a banshee, My call for help is now a mere wraith.

If I screeched as loud as I ever could, Then maybe someone would hear. Yet it is such an large unlikelihood; There’s little reason to shed a tear.

They say to “turn your back to the past, Look to the future and face the present.” It’s not the same for me, the outcast, As my past has left me quite a dent.

So say I face the future, and its contents. What does it hold, happiness or sorrow? If it holds only the latter and its horrid events, I will simply turn my back to my ‘morrow.

[runerosen]

Running From Pain

I closed my eyes, And turned away, From all those cries, And what they say.

Their wrists are bound, In chains of steel. They maken’t sound; Nor have zeal.

Work is seemly, For slaves of pain, Who want to flee From their bane.

None can run, From their lesions. They’ve not won, ‘gainst their demons.

[runerosen]

Walk

I have walked among you for years

Observing your habits hurt me so much.

You have not yet learned, my peers,

That my uniqueness was not a crutch.

I have listened to you for hours,

Hearing deceitful words of mockery.

Your words harmed me, not mine, nor ours.

Not truth, but mere jiggery-pokery.

I have hid myself for so long,

Fulfilling my own people-pleaser trait.

Unlike fiber of Kurrajong,

I am without strength, for it is negate.

[runerosen]

The Boy in the Woods: Summary

*Note: There are only three completed chapters, which will be posted on Thursdays at 18:00 UTC time. Any more after that will be upon request/interest or inspiration.* Summary:

She wanted to climb trees and live in the forest forever.

He wanted to be free from the spell which kept him from being truly free.

Yet, they were both forced into a marriage with the other person, for unity, lest there be war.

[runerosen]

Does anyone ever record their mindless rambles and end up going back to listen to them? I do, for inspiration, and this last one made me tear up.

After dealing with so many personal struggles these past six months, I think I’ll finally be able to have some good literature come from this.

Expect to see something in the next few weeks.

[runerosen]

Some poems for a sad day.

[unhingedrunerosen]

Things You Hear

My Sister: You couldn't pay me to do that. Well you could, because I love money.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My Father: Why does *brother's name* have someone in his contacts with the name "Babygirl 💖"?

My Mother: That's his best friend, William. They do that a lot.

[runerosen]

I'm Back! Sorry! And Yay!

Hey everyone! I know this probably doesn't make sense, but I am SO happy to have a total of 31 followers, and 47 who have subscribed at all. Thank you so much for your comments, reposts, follows, all of it. I have been going through a tough time with somebody using me, so I was recovering from the toll it took on my mental health. Thank you for all of your support. Each email I was sent about a new follow helped me realize that I have people who hear what I am saying, whether they care or not, and that I am noticed. Thank you, again.

Sending lots of love!!

[runerosen]

The Boy in the Woods: Chapter 3

The Boy in the Woods: Chapter Three

Rebecca ran towards Evelyn, crying. Evelyn walked up the hill, to her cottage, and was yards away from it before Reb hugged her. “My lady, what caused you to do this? I was afraid you were hurt!” The servant stared into her eyes, trying to scold her into guilt. “I’m fine Reb,” she replied, verbally shaking it off. She got out of Reb’s grip and went to get dressed. 30 minutes later, she walked out in a lavender pantsuit that flattered her figure, black ballet flats, and her hair in a high bun on top of her head. The young mistress got into a car, and was driven away to Wernette, the capital of the kingdom of Liposito.

Evelyn was the princess of King Leon and Queen Rhiannon of said kingdom. When she was young, she was sent to live in a cottage far away so as to grow up away from the responsibilities royalty have. “Miss, we’ve arrived at the Wernette royal gardens,” the chauffeur said as he came to a stop and opened the door for Evelyn. The sky was a bright blue, accenting all the vividly colored flowers in the gardens. She walked out of the car, towards a tree with a bench under it. She sat down, and looked around, waiting for her suitor. “Any moment now....oh,” Evelyn said with despair, as a man in his 40s walked up to her. “Hello, my name is Prince Amato, of the Rluctalate Kingdom. I know who you are, so please, tell me more about yourself.” He said, before sitting down on the opposite side of the bench, giving Evelyn as much space as possible.

The princess shifted in her seat, and looked at him. If it wasn’t for him being 45, he would be handsome and maybe even likable, she thought to herself. She smiled slightly, trying her best to be polite. “Well, I like to sit in nature, my favorite color is purple, and my hobbies are hiking, swimming, bird watching, and reading,” she replied. Amato smiled warmly, and kept his eyes on her face. He only gained more respect in her book for that. “I like to listen, my favorite color is pine green, and my hobbies are hiking, flower pressing, reading, and cooking,” he said. Evelyn sighed with relief. “I don’t have to learn how to cook now! Thank you,” she said, bowing her head. Amato chuckled, and looked down to his lap. “I’m not trying to force you into this. I didn’t know I would be marrying a 16 year-old until a week ago. Please don’t think of me as a pedophile, or someone who wants to use you.” He looked up at her. “I want to fall in love, as long as there isn’t a 50 year difference.” He laughed at his own joke.

She scooted closer to him, sighing in relief. “You aren’t all that bad, I guess,” Evelyn replied. The chauffeur walked into sight of the arranged couple. “Mistress Evelyn, it is time for you to take your leave,” he called to her. Eve stood up and nodded, then looked to Amato. “Until next time,” she said, to which the prince nodded in acknowledgement to. She walked off to the car, and got in.

As they drove away, Amato pulled out a pendant from under his shirt. “Well, Evelyn. Nice to meet you once again.” Said pendant glowed white and in Amato’s place stood Shaw, the 17 year-old prince.

A/N: That’s chapter 3/3 of completed chapters. Again, just like with Ruins of Rune, please make sure to comment or slide into my asks to see more, as I won’t add more unless there is expressed interest or I am inspired. Thank you!

[runerosen]

Ruins of Rune: Chapter 3

Ruins of Rune: Chapter Three, A Nightmare or a Memory?

“YOU’RE NOTHING WITHOUT MY LOVE! NOTHING!” Mother Dearest’s voice echoed as she screamed the same thing, over and over.

I woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. Looking around, I recognized my surroundings as I was in my bedroom, and slowly curled into a ball while sobbing.

Those dreams...they always keep me awake at night. You can get nightmares out of memories if you hate them enough. In my sleep I replay most of my childhood and even my teenage years. Additionally, even after a suicide attempt, medication, and a lot of therapy, I'm still stuck in this metaphorical bind 12 years later.

Asuga looks up to me and her dad. We both had a hand in raising her after her mom died. Yuki was a virtuous woman. Mean, but a perfect match for Hisashi. She said hurtful things, I’m sure, but I’ll never forget the way her words made me feel. I’m not sure if those words will ever come back to mind, but I do remember her actions and how she made others feel.

You know, she tried to talk Hisashi out of appointing me as his chosen woman. I was chosen because, even though they are both of Japanese descent, they wanted to have a modern wedding to better suit their tastes. Some things didn’t change, though, like Ms. Hinato’s melon mochi recipe. Other aspects did, like my ability to love.

I curled into a ball on the floor, crying. My world started to break in so many pieces, I knew I wouldn’t be able to pick them up by myself again. The anguish. The pain. 

There comes a nervousness with knowing the truth, and an unspeakable pain with the confirmation of said knowledge. Words hurt more than physical pain. Yet, in that moment, all I knew was that there are times when actions speak louder than words, others when actions mean more than words.

It’s not his fault, I simply liked to put the blame on others when my world feels like it’s crashing down (happens more often than one might think). She knew of my secrets, of my affection and admiration for him. Yet, she’s a much more beautiful personality than my own, and it goes without saying how truly gorgeous she is--appearance wise.

She was the ideal girl for him. That was one thing I clearly understood. However, while I did not understand my naivety in trusting her, in trusting myself, I knew that they were a match made in heaven.

One thing I will never have. And I’m completely, without a doubt, totally fine and accepting of that fact. Totally.

At least, I am until I have to wake up and realize that my dreams of him and I being together were exactly that; dreams. I love him, and he will always have me to stand beside him. His silent supporter, the one he can come to when she’s pregnant and can’t quite keep it a secret, who will be the one to give them everything the child will ever need.

That’s the funny thing about love, though. If you love someone with all of your heart, you make sure that they are happy, because that’s all that matters to you. For if they’re happy, then you’re happy. The strongest of us can accept that fact and embrace it. The bravest of us can cry every night over it and still find happiness in their loved one’s smile.

He stood upon my arrival at our table, as she followed his lead. I was introduced to her by him as he placed his hand on her waist. “Rune, I’d like to introduce to you my girlfriend of two months and three days, Jessie.” I gave a tight smile, knowing that I was introduced as the lower in rank, and opened my arms for a hug. “Hi Jessie, nice to meet you. Since we’re practically family now, may I extend a warm welcome?” She looked me up and down, before looking up at him. Suddenly he got the message she was giving off and turned to me to say, “sorry, Jessie doesn’t do a ton of physical affection. I told you that before you got here, Rune. You know better than to impose.”

She frowned, grabbing his arm. “She is not doing such a thing. Rune just wanted to properly welcome me, that was all." I smiled slightly; she wasn't as terrible as I thought she would be. He pressed a kiss to her temple and sighed, whispering to her. However, I had better hearing than some, and it wasn’t a loud restaurant, so reading his lips was fairly simple. "I wished I had held off longer on telling her. She’s taking this too seriously. Do you want to make up an excuse and go home early?" Her slight nod was enough for me. I knew when I was not wanted, and this was just mockery.

Standing up, I shook hands with both of them before leaving money on the table to cover my drink. “Apologies for any inconveniences caused by my arrival and or behavior. I wish you both the utmost success, so please, don’t be afraid to reach out for anything you might need. There’s a reason I live in an apartment, after all.” Upon an inquiring look from Jessie, I gave a wan smile. “I’ve not enough soul to fill up my former home by myself, not after…anyway, I’ll be heading out now.”

Grabbing my purse and sliding out of my chair, I walked away, stopping to look back at him. “You’ll be there for me next week, right?” I let my emotions show on my face, showing just how desperate I was for him to go like he does every year.

“Of course I will. I’ve never not been there.” With a satisfied smile, I continued on my way.

Exactly seven days later was the anniversary of the day my aunt died. Six years ago, approximately six years after she had taken me in, I received an audio message from her moments before she died. That audio message was her final message, and I still have it saved somewhere. Simply put, it was a joyride turned terribly wrong. Two females, who were presumably dating, were smoking weed when they suddenly decided to embark on a joyride in their Honda. That, combined with some drinking on their part, led to my aunt being T-boned at 170 miles per hour at an intersection when said couple ran a red light.

The two barely lived after that accident, and were sentenced to two years probation. While my aunt was supposed to die on impact, she lasted long enough to send me a 78-second long audio message of her last words and breath. Her last action before giving in was hitting send, and then…she was gone. I will never forget how devastated she sounded over the fact that she wouldn’t be there to see me when I graduated. I’ll never forget looking for her during my graduation only to find one, singular, empty seat in the middle of the congregation, with a sign that said ‘reserved’.

So, we made it a habit to, on this day, go to her grave and clean it. I made sure it was by the ocean, one of her favorite places. He would let me cry on his shoulder, talk about my memories of her with him, and would allow me to relax and drink my worries away. However, he would still take me home, tuck me in, and lay on the floor by my bed while holding my hand at night. Then, when the morning of the next day comes, we make breakfast together. Right before leaving, he gives me the hug that’s reserved for when I need to recharge.

He understands me, and it’s with genuine belief in it that I say that. He’s always there for me, and I for him. For 5 years, we would meet at my aunt’s grave at 8:00 in the morning. Today, I was there on time, with our traditional donuts, and he was nowhere to be seen. After 30 minutes of me eating my six donuts in silence, I started to clean her grave, choosing to believe he was late. He promised, and he never breaks his promises.

And so, I cleaned my aunt’s grave for four hours; it usually only takes two, but he wasn’t here yet. Half past noon, I sat and waited for him while thinking of my memories of her, knowing that he was the one to bring lunch. But lunch traffic must have been rough, because I waited another hour and he still wasn’t here. Nevertheless, I stared into the horizon while thumbing over the pendant on the necklace she gave me, the one with the picture of me, Hisashi, my aunt, and him. When the sun started to set, I let myself cry over her death once again as I listened to her heartbroken voice in the audio message. Eight o’clock came, and so I left, walking to that one bar as traffic became sparse and I realized he could finally be with me. That bar was empty except for two people, including the bartender who noticed my arrival and brought our drinks to our seats, as well as myself. Sitting at the bar, I drank both of our shots, and the bartender just sat there as he continued giving me more, up until five minutes before the bar closed, at 2:00 in the morning. Leaving him enough for a 50% tip and to pay, I walked out of said bar with an empty wallet and heavy heart. For though I prayed that he would be there when I came home, there was only a long-abandoned house that haunted my soul.

I still had hope he would come in time for his recharge hug, and grabbed a bottle of water before passing out on the couch. A hand never came to hold mine, leaving my dreams plagued with memories that weren’t mine and glimpses of what could have been.

When I woke up in a cold sweat at 10:00 AM, I still, for some foolish love sick reason, searched for him throughout the house while yelling his name only to find he wasn’t there. There wasn’t a warm breakfast in the kitchen, there wasn’t a shoulder to cry on anymore. When I realized that there was no hope left to give, I let out a bitter, hysterical chuckle.

He never came, even when he promised. After finding my phone, I started to type out a message to send to him, before deleting it. He didn’t want me around, so communication wasn’t worth the effort.

The following week was rough in more than one way. In the absence of any communication from him, I sat alone in the house of haunted memories. I spent the week cleaning, dusting, sorting through boxes of familiar clothes and letters that still smelled like the perfume my aunt would wear.

On a Saturday morning, I was tending to the flowerbeds at the front of the house when a shadow was cast over me. Turning around, I saw him standing there with a smug smirk, looking down on me as if I was the one who should apologize. With a rude hand gesture over my shoulder, I reverted to tending to my orchids, as they were overrun with weeds.

Perhaps they would leave if they knew I preferred it that way, that I was supposed to be alone. That I didn’t want people in my life who hated me, wanted to be rid of me.

Nonetheless, we all die in the end, alone and crying of the eternity sleep. I'm just starting the process earlier than usual.

A/N: This is the last of my completed chapters. Please let me know if you want to see more!