turtlewithatopphat

Latest Posts by turtlewithatopphat

The shoveled holes on my arms used to bloom roses. Even with their thorns, I craved those flowers because they made me feel beautiful. I dug those holes. I blowed the shovel deep into my arms and thighs to feel that ecstasy, even when it was excruciating.

When the holes closed, I felt bland and boring. The petals wilt and die and rot, leaving only their throbs behind. It made me want my roses back. “Nobody likes that,” I’d tell myself, “Nobody finds a field of weeds worth their time.” I was cruel to myself, always, for the longest time. I still am, sometimes, but I think that not every field needs the roses to be beautiful. Sometimes I look at the clouds of my eyes and marvel at how beautiful when they aren’t raining. I think of the trees that make my hair and how I like to decorate them from time to time.

I like the flower-less fields on my arms and legs. I love those who take the time to like them too. Even when it feels like no one, not even myself, could love them, I know someone will. At least 1 is worth more to me than enduring the thorns of roses.

Wanting to be a parent will always be selfish. Being selfish is not always a bad thing but choosing to be a parent will always be selfish. A lot of the reasons people choose to have kids is selfish, bc it’s cute, to pass on their legacy, bc of what the parents/spouse want, but don’t understand that theyre on their child’s time. When you choose to be a parent, you’re second to them. When you choose to be a parent you have to fully understand that you have to be a parent no matter what. When you’re grieving, if you’re sick, when a family member passes, when the spouse passes, you have to parent through it all. Choosing to be a parent means that if you have unresolved trauma, it will resurface and end up hurting your child if you don’t work it out beforehand.

Parenting is one of the realist things you can do and a whole new chapter in someone’s life. You won’t be the same when you become a parent. Your needs, wants, relationships are going to change, it’s inevitable. Parenting is one of the most selfless acts one can take and I don’t think lots of people take that into account when they WANT to be a parent

Which is way WANTING to be a parent is selfish but parenting in itself is selfless

I feel like parents who don’t like their children see it as a job that will be over with after 18 years of hard labor. They’ll give the bare minimum and maybe a touch more but it’s still a chore. I am my mom’s friend and I don’t think that any parent should say they aren’t friends with their kid. You can be both, a parent and a friend. A parent is the realist friend their child can have and for their friend to not like them is nothing.

The clouds are my soulmate. Whom I wish to feel shallow me whole. They call my name and I weep at the thought. I don’t just want to touch the clouds, I need to kiss them, feel their gentle touch on my yearning lips. They’re beautiful and I want to be apart of that beauty so bad. It makes me want to sob just gazing upon them.

In my destined death I know they’ll be gentle with my aching soul. I wish for nothing but wings when the world decides to take me. I’m not impatient, my time will come, but this coveting feels like it’s devouring me. Young me knew this; as I wrote about wanting only the power to fly. I itch to take flight and feel that light. The colors they reflect oh so hauntingly beautiful, as if I knew them before.

I hope the clouds fancy for me too.

There’s been a massacre. I, the sole survivor at the center of this blood bath thrust upon me at the dead of night. My clothes, soiled while my dignity lay discarded. The gates flooded at the time I was at my lowest, most vulnerable. Now I sit upon my throne in shame as I have been shackled here against my will. With no protection to shield me I sit here, aghast, at what has transpired amid my solemn slumber.

Head held low, I want to scream towards the heavens; How could they betray me in such a way that leaves me to lay waste without any means of self preservation?

My knuckles, white, as they grip at my sides; What am I supposed to do now but sit in shame and end what I subconsciously started the only way I can conquer?

My hands tremble towards my neck; the taking of my own life will be swift. It is my last means of self preservation after the massacre of the night before

as my box of pads lay empty.

Asking someone their favorite Britney Spears song can be a conversation starter or end it really fast.

On one end you guys can go on and on abt old songs you listened to and if they say they don’t know/ don’t listen to Britney you can walk away bc they aren’t worth your time.

I love Spaghetti but I always overestimate how much I can consume. This makes it so that I’m happy in the moment only to feel utterly insufficient by the end. I put it into a container for later as if I won’t forget about in the morning only to cook something else. It leads to this cycle of hunger, satisfaction, and then, misery.