Triple Word Score.

Navigating the space between memory and present state.

Flickering, a fond glimpse back to place where I felt full of ambition, hope, love, strength.

The echos of a skipped heartbeat where eyelines met.

Shivers in a coma, that fantasy place where time was just the unmoving hands of a broken machine.

I’m as forever restless as the ocean that swept you beyond my fingertips. Frantically reaching, drowning, just to push you to the surface for your safety. Forget the anchor wrapped around me.

How I broke down every part of my puzzle for you to rearrange as you pleased.

Near on two years and I miss the brief moments, but not you.

samstevesharon:

Someone: Wow you’re so easy to talk to! I feel like our personalities fit so well together!

Me: thanks i made this one special just for you

(via memewhore)

I’m telling myself that I’m at the stage of acceptance.

I need to channel the energy into something healthy.

Now and again, I find myself planning the next step, and stop myself from taking it. The interpersonal war. I keep feeding the negatives, with intermediate epiphanies and hard to swallow reality checks.

I keep skirting the issue, distracting myself with meaningless moments, overthinking, over analysing.

I’ll get what I want, just fucking watch me.

just-shower-thoughts:

What doesn’t kill you gives you a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and a really dark sense of humor.

no matter how many times I tell myself that I won’t make the same mistakes, I allow myself to build up expectation.

this is why I always crush myself, allowing /them/ to hurt, every cruel word, every nasty look.

this is why actions matter to me.

this is why I rarely feel the same ecstastic joy others do.

this is why I don’t get close.

/they/ say they want me to open up, relax, let go. /they/ don’t understand how many times I’ve had my lungs ripped out, my brain rewired.

sleep deprived, fingers blistered from trying to figure /my/ “short comings” out.

so I only let loose when under a self induced influenced, or in extreme bursts of self loathing. I don’t blame you, please understand that.

if I was intelligent enough, I’d be able to figure this out. perhaps I haven’t been broken down to the bottom yet, but when it comes, boy, don’t expect open arms.