The opposite of “easy peasy, lemon squeezey” is “stressed depressed, lemon zest”
The opposite of “easy peasy, lemon squeezey” is “stressed depressed, lemon zest”
3am thoughts 🚬
Lately, things around me are confusing to the point I don’t know how to be me anymore. Questions like “should I be this kind of person? Or should i be that kind of person?” swarm my head. I don’t know, I feel like I’m being the kind of person adjusting to people to please and belong to ‘em. I feel like I cannot be just one thing. I have a lot of undiscovered things inside my mind I have yet to discover. I WILL REVEAL MYSELF TO MYSELF.
It’s 3am and I just remembered that I have cold McDonalds French Fries in the fridge, unfortunately my mass amount of Wizardly Knowledge is wanted by the King of Shadows. Thus, I am bound to my bed until the light of dawn peers onto my land and breaks the curse.
…… kinda in the mood to…..sing…..but it’s 3am…..
I guess it’s not that I don’t feel safe, it’s that I don’t feel loved, or cared for, or perhaps it’s that I don’t feel like I belong. And why would I feel like I don’t belong when I have four members of close family and in some people’s standards an uncountable amount of friends?
Because in my mind these people are not my family they are not my friends they are just objects for which my mind flickers across then leaves in flames to burn away because now that they have come near me they are too much and they stop me from what I want to do.
Yes, I say I hate people I hate the outside world and yes for once I’m telling the truth if everything else I’ve said in my life is a lie then yes, that one moment is the truth.
My family spend too much thought on me but also not enough, they are too busy wrapped in their own heads to see that I’m on the edge, and can you blame them? Each person has their own lives their own needs and their own stories, it’s not their fault I want to cut mine short, not like they could stop it anyways.
My friend are not friends they too are just candles, I pass them and they burn until there’s nothing left. But in reality, it’s me to them who is nothing and that’s why, in the end, they all leave. They see that I’m not worth their time and they leave. That’s the right thing to do I suppose, we are always told be should not stick around the people who harm us or at the very least do no good. For many, I’m that person, for once I wish I wasn’t.
Then, of course, come those who the statement the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. Those few I would call my family over my family, and yet these are the ones I feel I can trust the least. Every time I devote myself to one person and decide they are the one that makes the difference they always end up leaving me, for their own purposes after I have given them all I can and I have run out of use. It’s happened more than once and the next one won’t be the first, nor the last.
I just forget people so quickly and move on to the next soul it almost seems like it’s my fault I can’t trust anyone. Can’t or won’t? That’s another question of mine.
These people I would strive to call my family are the ones I don’t judge right away, I take my time going through them and deciding if I can belong. Whenever I say yes to them they always say no, this next one is a mystery but I guess all I have to do is wait a year or two and we can see then whether she is anything to me or whether she’s just like the others.
I wrote a story the other day, about a man who was lonely, lied to by the world and it’s inhabitants, maybe that story wasn’t about the man. Maybe it was about me.
I don’t want to be just another name on a sheet of paper but I also don’t want to exist long enough to see people get attached. I’ve been here too long and not long enough, I’ve seen all I need to because I simply cannot imagine myself outside of this world, outside of this bubble I’m trapped in by my own head because when it comes down to it, that’s all I am. Just a figure and a flicker devised inside my mind, making stories about myself and others to attempt to find some sort of comfort, for my mind tries to make itself both better and worse as it does not know the difference. Everything is a blur if you don’t know what you are looking for.
My eyes have always been unfocused.
I really am just a name on a piece of paper, the line between living and existing is my home and where I will drift along till the end because for me there is no escape there is simply a line, it’s straight and never strays it’s not bold or italicised, it’s a line. The path I must follow.
No there is no other way and no I’d not want there to be another way, because this way at least I know what I have to do.
That’s my advantage you see, why I see myself above everything else and judge so harshly because I think I see things from a very different point of view, or perhaps even every point of view.But I guess I’m missing one… my own.
I’d rather sit and stare out the window all day than see things from my own eyes because if there’s one thing I deserve to be, it’s alone.
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I still remember everything.
I still remember the way you like your tea, no sugar and a splash of honey, but only on Sunday mornings between the hours of 5am-6am and always in the blue poke-a-dotted mug. You use to say that there was nothing better than watching the sun rise with a hot cup of tea. God how I hated that stupid mug.
I still remember your favorite sport, soccer. You knew nothing about it, but yet every time a game was on you would watch it until the end and then cheer for the team that won. I never understood why, but then again I never asked.
I still remember how warm you always were. Late at night when I would shiver you’d roll on top of me and tell me the only blanket I would ever need was you.
I remember the long drives we would take to go see your family and that stupid mixtape you always played. You would sing and dance while driving, poking my face to get me to smile.
It’s been four years and I still remember everything about you. From your favorite t-shirt, that I now sleep in every night, to your favorite place to read in the house, the small love seat on the back patio with your knitted blanket draped over you.
It’s been four years and I still wake up every Sunday to watch the sun rise with that stupid blue mug with the tea and honey inside of it. I never liked tea, but I drank it anyways.
I have watched every single soccer game to come on tv since your passing, I sleep on your side of the bed to try and remember the warmth you would bring me, and I listen to that mixtape everytime I go and visit your parents over the summer.
You might be gone, but I’ll always remember.
(If you like this check out the others on my page, and my Instagram for more of them! @_3amstories )
sleep is for the weak
See, the thing about people, they can make planty of mistakes, hurt you as much as they can. And yet you get the courage to forgive them, like nothig happened. But then you make a simple human mistake, they call you lier, and question themselves can they trust you again or can they forgive you. My friend, that’s some bulshit you’re trying to pull.
Saliva is filtered blood
I was listening to music and started getting tired when Lenny Kravitz “Are You Gonna Go My Way” started playing and I actually responded not tonight Lenny outloud
ok so technically, a wrap is a 360° sandwich
In Aus, suddenly 3AM
If a potato and a pumpkin were combined it’d be a sweet potato
The realization that people keep you around and hang out with you more for the things you know and what you are willing to do to make them happy, rather than because they care about you or because they like you as a person, hurts more than any injury.
And I’m watching The Room
Enjoy the things that reminds you of that time when you were always happy & had no fucks given about any shit in the world.. simply enjoy the things that reminds you of your childhood.