Desperation

Harry: are you taken?

Draco: Yeah, for granted

in conclusion: it finished me

disquiet

A piece of me is always missing, Like the last block of lego that I can never seem to find One empty space right in the center of the jigsaw puzzle. I'm not sure if I lost it along the way. I'm not sure if I'm yet to find it. But lately, the gap seems more blatant. I'm anxious that it's visible to the people around me. That when they look at me, they see half a person. It's almost like I'm mimicking a being While I'm on the quest for the missing elements.

Sometimes, everything is wholesome! Golden skies, daisies, moongazing, Dusty libraries where ghosts of dead poets linger, Tight hugs, acts that mean "I'm thinking of you.", I look at my picture with my friends, smiling ear to ear And the jigsaw puzzle is complete. (or it was, then.) Some memories in me are so perfect that, The missing lego piece starts to feel like an extra piece From the table, you're trying to put together. It works fine without it, and there's nowhere to put it.

Then I'm back in my bed, back in my head. And I cannot remember how to be a whole person again I eat chocolate until I'm nauseated Or I never draw the curtains open and let the light flow through. I want to live life to the fullest, I never want to be seen in public again, I want all-consuming love, I want to believe I'm worthy of it, I want to feel complete when I'm alone, I want someone to feel complete with.

I want and I want and I want… Socrates said, (Yes, I went there) "He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have." What about, She who is never content with who she is? What about me?

The 25 Days of Shit Slytherins Say (Season 2): #3

Jingle bells, Umbridge smells, losers go away.

Draco’s hot, Voldy’s not.

Slytherin all the way!

SCRIBBLE AND SCRATCH

With a cup of tea, a pen, and my book

I sat to write at my favorite nook.

Head filled with voices trying to get out,

And a heart humming with tunes of doubt.

I scribble, and scratch then my words fade,

As I suppress the thoughts that make me afraid.

So I go back to the books that give me relief.

To find my answers within someone else's grief.

There are many problems within these books.

And in that world, solutions aren't mine to look

Within worn-out, annotated, and yellow pages,

I forget my fright as I did for ages.

Soon I'm drawn back to my nook

Holding on to empty pages of the notebook

I scribble, and scratch but the words don't fade

For I've let my thoughts out of its shade.

this website lets you listen to the sounds of all different forests around the world 

#it feels like home

i broke into ur brain just to call u out in this quiz (but in a soft way). how does it feel to be loved by u?

“You can’t read that book in a day”

AFTER A RAINY NIGHT

The mornings after a rainy night,

Reminds me of all our crazy fights.

The way few droplets hold onto leaves,

I held us tying my pain in sheaves.

The sky looks empty without a cloud,

Reflecting me and the things you vowed.

And slowly the day gets bright in time,

I bethink how I left right in time.

The mornings after a rainy night,

Reminds me there's always space for light.

(26.10.20)

“a toxic label

broken chords

a gentle note

Silence roars

What I Am is

what I know

As above

so below...” - m.sonder

//transgressions//