#whatever it's 5am in the morning i don't even know why i'm awake now

[kaiserouo]

(prev)

redid the shadow again because i kinda didn't know what i was doing...? it's a little bit better i guess

[ikarus-wax-wings]

5am Tea

( an outpouring of thoughts)

It's 5am.

I'm sitting on my kitchen floor. My mother sits in the next room, newly awake. We have not spoken. She is up to start her day. I am up because of this ache in my heart.

There are many things living inside me. There is this graveyard of houses, and the way I have started to bury this one while I'm still inside.

There is the story of the mermaid who's bought legs cost the feeling of stepping on swords. She whose prayed future ended up being nothing she wished. And despite her tale having been penned, the quietness of her pain and sorrow is never noticed. Her pain and sorrow, too, are rarely recounted.

No one likes a sad story. Especially quiet ones. Ones that speak of deceptive hope.

This tiled floor is cold. I'm cold. I put sugar in my tea. More than usual too When did I stop being able to do even that? Why must it be an achievement that I do it now?

God, this weight is neverending- It's this asphyxiation that lasts years. Turning my lungs to stone, tiny particle, by tiny particle.

I too, am a sad story. One no one wants to hear of. I live in grief of the end of my own world, Which crawls at me so slowly it's imperceptible to most others. And that's no heroic tale.

Why can I not change my ending? If it comes at me so slowly? Why can I not be some bold-faced protagonist who doesn't accept fate's wishes, who works and bleeds- not to bleed- but out of triumph and dedication? Why can't I own myself? Or at least entertain and inspire.

Maybe if I was a story and not a person, this would all be easier. My tragedy would be a tragedy. My words would be read. I would not have to die so slowly no one sees it. I'd have people to mourn me. Someone who'd understand.

But I am not a story. I am a person- with this disgusting body and unexplainable mind.

This tea tastes like tears. I've been learning to cry. It's the first thing a baby knows how to do. And I forgot how somewhere along the way. Like forgetting how to breathe. Or how to eat- I am an infant with no mother. Worse than an infant because I have lost my instincts.

My humanity is uneven- a little broken. The edges don't quite fit together. And I shove them against each other, trying to will these imperfect pieces to become whole, to make sense. I laugh to the people around me, ' How funny! I don't know why it's not fitting. It fit just this morning, I swear!' And they watch my desperation with pity and disgust. They know I am simply not one of them. No amount of trying to fit the pieces of my humanity together will fix me. They know this and I do not.

I cannot. To know this is to die.

And, God, I want rest. But I seem to have too much suffering left, No way I've justified an exit ticket by any god. And I'm stuck here. Weighing the questions of hope and morality. Because if God won't give me rest, Do I tuck myself into bed? Am I that selfish yet?

Because here I sit, and what I refuse to think of, yet think of almost solely past my flitting self pity, Is the person I love who is hurting.

I can barely write it.

Barely explain the type of pain and the fear that holds me- a hand around my sternum, tugging the soul of me out, Each line of me, through my stomach, through my chest, coiled in my heart, up my spine and in my neck and tied around each turn of my intestines, The strings are all being pulled out through the centre of me, by this hand- This hand which feels more like God than anything else I've experienced.

How can I feel this and none of the softness I was promised? Is it that I never learned to feel the good, Or that it wasn't there?

I have returned my grief and anger for desperation again. I stopped asking favours a long time ago. Stopped pleading to be saved. To be good. Or to be killed as some pest. I stopped asking for safety.

But now I scream out with this hand squeezing my soul and tugging it out of me. I scream and I sob and prayer seems too soft a word for whatever it is I do. And I do not pray for myself, but I am still selfish in my selflessness.

I am hoarse when I beg for God to help my Lovely. I go blind with tears and lose all breath.

He brings back some part of my humanity. The part that needs God. The part that cries. The world found some piece of me in him that had not been shredded to numbness yet. Why does their pain hurt me more than my own?

They handle themselves and I do what I can and I stay in reach and I try to be solid- or really be anything Anything, anything And this hurt and panic fills me. I am nothing if not a pitcher of fear.

And they're okay. He's doing what he can. He's doing what he needs to. I'm doing all I can. And it's enough. I know it's enough and it has to be enough

And it's not enough.

All the words I have are to explain how words fail me. How it is not enough to explain. How I've not figured out the way to describe it.

I am sick for my Love. I can't find a cure. And I'm searching- yet I fear the absence of fear. That in the moment I learn to be calm- Will be the moment I keep my eyes shut a second too long, And am not there when I'm needed. Maybe first for a small moment. Maybe then to lose them.

What do I pray for besides their peace? To not lose hope? Or like myself, to not become selfish- As if it's my right to say that-

When I mean ' Please don't leave me' ' Please care' ' Please see me, see me, don't black out yet, don't forget, just see my hands here, and how they cling to you, and please care that they do, please care to not leave me behind- at least that, at least that.'

And what hypocrisy that would be, For someone like me who yearns for rest, Who's world grows gray and who stops seeing other's hands reaching out to keep me here. I beg her to be what I can barely be- What I am dishonestly. My presence offset by an open window.

But for them- For her- I cannot bear to leave or be left. And yet I cannot bear to feel her pain.

I'll curl up in bed. Pretending I'm holding her from far away. Whispering one last prayer, One with broken voice and lacklustre expression: Please just this once, let him feel my arms hugging him from afar.

And I let these few tears out against my pillowcase, The last grains of sand through the hourglass.

[gobletofmilk]

hours of the day ranked

1. 6pm 6pm is the best hour of every day because this is when you are eating dinner. sometimes it doesn't happen in this hour but when it does, this is why we are on earth. dinner. it's also good because you eat dinner then. 

2. 7pm i love this hour because if you have eaten dinner already you have a good 4-5 hours of true free time. you can literally do whatever, spend time with friends, read, write, watch a movie, or do what god herself placed us on this earth to do which is rot in bed and look at phone.

3. 12pm yummy lunch time 

4. 4am I'll fight all of you on this but 4am is here because of that sweet sweet rem. you know how good sleep feels at 4am? you kidding me? this is why i LIVE.

5. 12am there's just something special about midnight you know. it's just cool. if you're still awake the vibes are kinda crazy you know. if you're with friends then the vibes are even crazy er. i love it when it is midnight. 

6. 3pm i haven't been in school for years (like millions of years), but there is no denying the power of 3pm. home time. it's also the peak time in the afternoon. lots of shenanigans to be had at 3pm you know

7. 5pm this is like like school ending but for adults although i don't have a job that ends at 5 i just kind of work whenever and it is so bad for my work life balance because i end up working at the worst times and don't give myself enough time to relax but if i had a normal job this would be the best time

8. 10pm sleepy vibes you know

9. 8pm i really like this time because i'm usually right into a movie or something or playing a game or rotting in bed usually rotting 

10. 4pm it's interesting at this point we are starting to get to the hours i'm not too fond of. don't get me wrong i'm a fan of 4pm, but my brain just turns off around this time every day. i can't get anything done. it sucks. i'm not a morning person or an afternoon person or an evening person tbh.

11. 11pm hey that's a good placement

12. 5am such a risky hour. if you're getting good rem then it is the greatest hour in the world. but if you wake up at 5am and still want to have a little more sleep. god. kill me. it happened to me this morning and it has just ruined my day

13. 9pm it's kind of sad at 9pm because the night is coming to an end and it's like sad and stuff??

14. 1pm i ated all my lunch :(

15. 10am hey this is usually like a snack time so that is good. but you have a whole work day ahead of you and it's like ugh lame you know. if it is a day off though 10am can be pretty exciting. i'm usually rotting in bed around 10am

16. 2pm controversial maybe but this time isn't it. i want to go home you know i don't have three hours of work left in me.

17. 11am the most nothing hour ever created what even happens at 11am

18. 1am not for me

19. 2am like 1am but slightly worse 

20. 3am like 2am but slightly worse

21. 8am of all of the morning hours, this one is the least offensive. you're usually eating breakfast or just commuting and listening to music so hey, it gets a pass i suppose. morning sux.

22. 7am the only good thing about 7am is your bed is so comfortable, but like why can't we take that comfort and move it to other parts of the day. i gotta get up at 7am, don't do that to me.

23. 6am kill me now it's so over

24. 9am imagine being henry time, inventor of time, and thinking you know what is a good idea? 9am? what a fool. i'm so upset this time should not exist. so sick and twisted.