#rawemotions

[marfo-xyz]

The Inner Void: A Space Between Reality and Desire

There's a place within that often feels like an endless void—a quiet, haunting emptiness that surfaces when everything else around us seems intact. It’s hard to explain, harder to share. It’s not the absence of something specific; it’s more like the soft ache of what could be, the subtle whispers of unmet dreams, a space where reality and desire fail to meet.

This inner void isn’t a bad thing by nature. It’s often the result of being deeply self-aware, of feeling intensely in a world that sometimes numbs us out. It emerges when we pause long enough to reflect on what truly matters to us, when we recognize that certain things in life, no matter how hard we try, just don’t fit our soul’s puzzle.

The void is paradoxically empty yet heavy. It’s as if a part of ourselves exists there, lingering in a suspended state, craving something it can’t quite articulate. We try to fill it with distractions, people, work, and endless to-dos, hoping to silence its quiet pull. But the void stays, unchanged, waiting patiently for us to look inward.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the point. This inner void doesn’t exist to be filled, but to remind us to look beyond surface satisfactions and reach deeper for what truly resonates with us. It’s there to teach us acceptance, to hold space for our unfulfilled wishes and unsaid words, to give ourselves permission to be incomplete and still valuable.

So if you feel the weight of an inner void, take it as a sign to explore rather than evade. Let it guide you, with its emptiness, toward a path only you can define—a path not of quick fixes but of genuine self-discovery.

[heartstrings-and-hauntings]

Crimson Confessions

Feeling like the true self, Emotions hidden from everyone else. Hoping no harm is done, Praying for understanding, Accepting when it’s not there.

Writing down words sworn to be said, Resisting each thought, Trying not to let the mind sway.

Is it possible to feel this happy When everything around is in disarray? Hiding a crimson face, Whispers to a beating heart— When did it all start?

How long was this denied? How long was the wait? Was it too late?

Are intentions clear? Is the image seen the same way?

[astramari1212]

Grief of the Lost Self

[waves-of-thought]

What have I done to deserve this silence? When I need help, I reach out arms wide-open, heart exposed, begging without words for someone to see my struggle. They know I’m asking, they feel the weight of what I can't bring myself to say. Yet, they choose to turn away. It’s not just about feeling unloved, though, that emptiness curls in my stomach like a knot. It’s about being vulnerable, asking for help, and watching them retreat. They escape the discomfort, and I make it easy for them, every time. I hand them an exit, and they always take it. And here I am, left to carry the burden alone, again. I wish, one day, I won’t have to go through this by myself.

[tarheellady23]

I feel like you wrote and write your best music when you are internally struggling thru things. Your rawness and completel honesty compel you to forward with some raw and enchating...while blowing fjrdf our mind then spirit away for real. -Cat

gonna be a tough thing deciding which writing to post here and which to save for the records. lately i’ve been writing constantly from morning to night. not for any reason. just a compulsion. having conversations and my hands are simultaneously typing away in a world and ambience of their own. ambidextrous brain. master of none.

[mineofilms]

Drawing the Sandline

Drawing the Sandline

This is the very short story of a boy named Whilem and a girl named Lainey. The following is based on actual events… The names have been changed…

Whilem stared at the blinking cursor on his screen, contemplating the weight of the message he was about to send. "So… Can we hang out again?" Lainey's latest Facebook message buzzed on his computer as he worked on projects. Whilem sighed, knowing what he must do. He typed out his response, each keystroke feeling like a rusty nail in the coffin of whatever semblance of normalcy they had left…

"For the foreseeable future, no… I am sorry if this hurts you, but I need to be honest. I was done with all this two Fridays ago. As in, done-done…"

He paused, letting the words sink in, hit enter, and waited an hour. He checks back as he works and sees she saw the message. This wasn't easy, but necessary things rarely were. Lainey had a knack for turning every interaction into an emotional rollercoaster, and Whilem was tired of the bumpy as-fuck ride. He continued typing, laying out his frustrations and boundaries with a mix of blunt, heart-felt-honesty, politeness, and intention to do as least harm as possible. Next, he chose his words carefully.

"This is just too much for me to handle right now between the two of us, and I can't pretend I am good with it all. This isn’t just about you; it's also about me. I know my limits, we passed them. And then some…"

He knew she would read this and twist it, making herself the victim in a story of her own creation. But Whilem had reached his tolerance… He wasn't willing to sacrifice what good time he had left to make his mark on this world and his mental health for her perpetual state of crisis of being a victim.

"I am not willing to work on these things either. I told you I was content with my solitude, and I mean it. Nothing comes between it. Even without the ex-boyfriend on the couch, his bullshit, and some of the other stuff, it just would have prolonged the inevitable."

Their brief, but gentle lovemaking had started innocently enough; a shoulder to cry on, a friendly ear. But Lainey's problems were like quicksand, and Whilem had foolishly waded in, thinking he could stay on solid ground. These are clouds, not ground… He should have known better.

"Are we still friends? Yes, but I can't be that distraction for you when things get tough. I don't have anything to give right now. Time is my only resource, and I'd rather spend it on tasks that make me feel accomplished, not frustrated about that effort and time."

Whilem's thoughts turned to his new potential contract in Tampa, the personal projects he had neglected, his health, his mental health, his time, good quality time left, his soul, his sanity. He had goals, and ambitions that couldn't be put on hold for Lainey's endless drama.

"Perhaps when we both get our lives in better order, we can revisit this, but not now. I can't give you a timetable for when or if that will happen. I need to focus on my health over the summer and fall, the work I might be doing, and my personal projects will take up about all I have to give."

He imagined her reading this, tears welling up, accusations forming in her mind. She wanted a friend to have carefree fun with without feeling guilty for it. She wanted a distraction to rescue her from herself. But Whilem was no hero; he was just a guy, damaged, working hard on himself, who had finally learned to say no.

"I get it, you want a friend. You want to feel good and have fun. I really didn’t want any of that. I thought I was just helping you out. I had a soft spot that got very hard, massive, and too heavy to carry, very quickly. I walk in a desert. I had to drop the very hard, massive, heavy thing behind so I can make it through the desert."

The desert. It was a fitting metaphor for the barren wasteland of how this was playing out. He couldn't carry her burdens any longer; he had to save himself. He took both the red pill and the blue pill, gave Morpheus the finger, and jumped out the window, saying “Fuck your desert of the real,” all-the-way-down out of the simulation.

"I hope this makes sense and that you’re not too hurt. I know it's disappointing, and I am sorry it had to come from me like this. I will respond when I have time to respond. My headspace is already on other tasks. Have low expectations… That’s about all I got… Tried really hard to not say something to deliberately hurt here. That was not the intention and intention for me means everything… Signed, Whilem."

With a final sigh, Whilem hit send. The message flew off into the digital void of Facebook messenger, leaving him feeling strangely lighter. He had drawn his line in the sand, and now he had to walk away, leaving Lainey to navigate her own mess. An hour later, she blocked him for the second time in two weeks. Later, Whilem would learn from refreshing his browser page that she had blocked him before he sent off that last message. She would never know that Whilem attempted to be gentle with her and that this bugged him just as much. However, it sounds to me, the teller of this tale, that Whilem did the right thing. He did right by Lainey. Lainey just cannot deal with reality and that is why this happened to begin with. Moral of the story. Do not modify what and who you are for another. Modifying what you are is not the same thing as compromising for another. One multiplied by one does not equal two, it equals one and it always did and will. End of the story…

Drawing the Sandline by David-Angelo Mineo 6/27/2024 1,013 Words

[m3ssy-j5]

Topic : Matters of the heart

Some say in say in a relationship it's 50/50.

Some say you pour into each other's cup.

Some say it's being single and living their best life is the best way to go.

Some say it's complicated!

Some say side pieces like if say you are ordering food out a menu

But I says some days it's all or nothing it's so easy to give up or give in but you wouldn't want to stay where you are because of pain💔. its constant there is no peace, you express your desires it's never felt ,the one you want most is not for you causing more harm than good ,I want real love any woman would , to love flaws and faults and not to be mis understood ,I want to be loved by a man.but only a real man could.

[yellowmanula]

"Our ear is not satisfied and calls for ever greater acoustical emotions"

[randompikachu123]

It was one of those days when crying is the nicest thing you can do for yourself.

[xandaclaus]

https://www.deviantart.com/xandaclaus/gallery

[astramari1212]

Grief of the Lost Self

September 9, 2022, Pain makes us stronger, they say, But sometimes, survival strips away The last of ourselves, Our heart, our humanity. One grieves the loss of self for eternity, Knowing it may never return— Not without help, which rarely comes.

Is it a punishment to be smart, aware? Common sense becomes a curse In a world where cruelty reigns. Naivety stolen, innocence shattered, A broken spirit left to wander. Hope, a fragile flame in unsteady hands, Extinguished, lost forever Like the dream of spring on a winter’s night— Cold and unfeeling.

Yet beneath this frozen heart, Emotions build like molten fire, Bursting through in moments of rage, Like a volcano erupting, But the world sees only madness, Unable to recognize the long years of silent suffering, The want that has gone unfulfilled.

For how much longer? Loneliness stretches out its arms, And death, at times, seems a welcomed friend.

[waves-of-thought]

Reaching out, but all I find is silence.

Vulnerability shouldn't feel like a crime, yet here I am, carrying the weight alone again.

Maybe one day, someone will stay instead of walking away.

Until then, I’ll keep holding on to hope.

[ang1331]

[uncle-keg]

ars gratia artis/ars poetica poem

Art for the sake of art-

requires vulnerability,

but I don't know if I'm able

for a part of me

to be left out on the table.

Not carefully carved

like thanksgiving turkey,

more like last night's discared dinner

not saved or cleared, out of lethargy,

and beginning to stink.

I wouldn't dare to take a bite

or try to reheat it;

attempting to give it new life.

That'd only accentuate the stench,

resurrecting the past,

and making me wretch.

Though in doing so, it may finally pass.