sometimes / I think I’m empty / I think I’m hollow / I keep looking for things I don’t understand / it’s a lack / a loss? / did I lose part of myself a long time ago? / I don’t know anymore / you know, someone said this to me / he said that for someone so smart / I said I don’t know a lot / I was 18 / he was 20 / I didn’t know any better / and he threw me across the room / something cracked that day, it wasn’t just my spine / something broke inside me, maybe / I don’t know, but / I know that something inside ached for something more / almost like / I want to demand the happy ending / but the world doesn’t owe me anything / and I know this / I know this / I keep trying to remind myself of this / but somehow / I keep hoping / I keep getting disappointed / I keep breaking
It wasn't the happiest of nights, admittedly. My personal demons can get overwhelming, and when that happens - it's rough on me.
sometimes / I think I’m empty / I think I’m hollow / I keep looking for things I don’t understand / it’s a lack / a loss? / did I lose part of myself a long time ago? / I don’t know anymore / you know, someone said this to me / he said that for someone so smart / I said I don’t know a lot / I was 18 / he was 20 / I didn’t know any better / and he threw me across the room / something cracked that day, it wasn’t just my spine / something broke inside me, maybe / I don’t know, but / I know that something inside ached for something more / almost like / I want to demand the happy ending / but the world doesn’t owe me anything / and I know this / I know this / I keep trying to remind myself of this / but somehow / I keep hoping / I keep getting disappointed / I keep breaking
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So, to start the week - here my latest offerings for The Level MY:
#commoncreativeproblems one last thing to be mad about: it's my body, you don't get a say Now, I've got a couple of things to be mad about (but really, when am I not mad). There's a rant on the importance of appearances that I'm considering posting on this blog and an entire series on 'How To Identify A Fuckboy' or '10 Ways Your Boyfriend Is/Will Be A Fuckboy'. But then again, it's been done to death hasn't it? I somehow ended up at the mt masking tape exhibition and ended up buying 9 rolls of tape (not all of them were mine), so it's obvious that my #bujo thing is getting way out of hand. You can see photos of this on my twitter. I suppose that's all for now? As always, find me online at any time.
So, I've put it out there I'm pretty much a trash creative and my day job is that I write for The Level MY. We're a youth portal, and I'm your resident snark queen where I'm paid to have an opinion.
HOWEVER: I'm not getting a lot of page views. Or feedback. I mean, I've been at this for about two weeks now but I'd love it if I could get more views and feedback. Interaction is important for this line of work. I'm sticking a couple of links below, so maybe if you're interested - you could have a look and let me know what y'all think? Also, you can find me on Twitter or hit me up at my work email if you have any story ideas you think I could work on. Shares, feedback - anything! It's all appreciated x AUTHOR PAGE here WEDNESDAY WOES: #firstworldproblems and other milennial angst introduction one #THIRSTDAY: relationships, dating and everything in between bad pick up lines the thirst ONE LAST THING TO BE MAD ABOUT: a compilation of everything I got mad about in the week kim kardashian: talentless? Written yesterday, during an anxiety attack. Hey - I complete the writer trifecta, apparently, and at least I'm not ashamed of this one.
i. it's 4am and you're tired your eyes are heavy, but you're scared the monsters are loud tonight you feel their claws scraping at you you hear their teeth in your ear your heart is heavy, and you know you're dying for a little rest tonight ii. it's 5:30am and your vision is blurry you almost hit a divider, and you don't care you're going 130 km/h and you wish you could die, almost you're so uncomfortable in your own skin you want to tear it off you want to rest iii. it's 7am and you're in his bed you want him to say the words you're terrified that he doesn't want you you know he doesn't need you but being needed means you have a purpose he doesn't say it, you don't ask sleep doesn't come easy iv. it's 11:20am and you're awake your eyes jolt open at the sound of people talking, walking outside the door you just want to go back to sleep he's warm and he's next to you you close your eyes and bury your face in the pillows you don't dream v. it's noon and you wake up he's on the phone and his voice is soft he never sounds like that with you and all you can think about is how you're just a replacement and you're not important because he says he'll be there in half an hour so you get up, and you shut down I performed during the July edition of "If Walls Could Talk", a local poetry open mic held at Gaslight Cafe. I managed to perform two pieces, and a couple of people came up to me and wanted to know more about my writing - thus this site. I figured it'd be better to consolidate all my personal writing in an attempt to be more organised.
I'm also learning how to Bullet Journal (#bujo, as the community puts that), so we'll see how that goes. So, to avoid more rambling on about my life - here are the two pieces I performed in their entirety. 1. [there's something wrong with my programming] you know what she said when she saw me? / "she was made not born" / I think she's right / I think I'll never get that sentence / out of my head/ I'm slowly going out of my mind / and truthfully, I'm an artificial kind of monster / a stitched together soul / in the golden body of an angel / wide eyes and soft lips / perfect pasted on smile / but dead eyes / cold eyes / lifeless eyes / fake spark in them that you can see / or maybe it's the other way around / swinging hips and swinging fists / nails like talons and sharp teeth / blood red lips and a cruel smile / I'm not a machine / but why did you make me / why is there something wrong with me? / why don't the pieces fit right? / why don't I work right? / why why why / why did you name me grace when you made me savage / why did you do this? / WHAT AM I? 2. 金繕い (kintsukuroi) marks are purple, blue, red yellow and green when they're healing there's a rainbow on my skin and it's the most beautiful I've been in a long time my vision goes red with rage, at myself, at the world, at everything orange and yellow remind me of sunsets that'll never be mine again, of evening views from 10 storey buildings green and blue like the ocean I wished I could sink beneath, waves of emotion that drown me in the thoughts inside my stupid, broken brain indigo twilight, nights spent alone with the mingled scents of dying flowers, roses and violets pressed between books I read aloud to myself in an attempt to silence the voices in my head I wanted to dream of you in colours I've never seen before, a spectrum of things I could only imagine I want you to kiss me until my lips bruise, until my teeth cut against the inside of my mouth I want an imprint of you there, so maybe I'll remember to feel real when I feel like nothing and I feel nothing, sometimes. I wish I could feel something something good, something pure, something clean something that makes me feel better than empty, something that fills up the broken spaces in between the cracks that other people have left, something other than the angst and bitterness that threaten to eclipse everything so kiss me, mark me, in an attempt to mend these cracks with gold |
Hannah azlan5'2" hurricane in human form. Committed to the #aesthetic life, I write about anything and everything. Welcome to my writing blog. Categories
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