My Heart

My Heart

It hangs precariously from a single digit on your left hand. A fragile thread keeping it aloft as it shifts restlessly in a breeze. I presented that broken and wrongly-bloodied mess to you in the form of a confession. It was a guilty admission that I had done something terribly cruel to myself. I trusted you to care for it. Then this? This is the treatment it receives? It does not even rest in your palm. I had expected for you to treat it with a little more care and respect, to treat it better than I have, but no. You could not even offer me the courtesy of holding it responsibly, so that if it falls and breaks, it is your fault. So that I can blame you instead of the winds.

Those arteries and veins and muscles that pumped life through me; I gave them to you because you had me fooled that you could care for them better than I; That you could keep the blood as red and pure as wine; That you could keep it from spilling time and time again; And from creating a new, harder to clean, deep red stain on the carpet of my bedroom.

A bedroom is a god's domain. You would know. A space that should be worshipped and treated as if it is a church or a temple. Each time you spill blood in my bedroom you taint my life like no other can. Because I gave my heart up to you in a blinding haze of unusual affection and compassion that has driven me mad ever since.

I hope that next time you are careless and my heart breaks a little more in consequence, you are reminded that the lost blood will follow you. That my tragedy does not exclusively lead to me anymore. Your footsteps leave their prints behind in the same horrifying deep red.

this type of photo in forests makes me so happy and idk why

I will forget.

Nauseous, I roll over. My mind turns with me, terrible thoughts dragging their talons across the backs of my eyes. I feel sick, though I most certainly am not, I think to myself.

You will forget.

You will forget.

You will forget.

My sheets are damp with sweat. It's been a hot summer, full of days that would have been better spent at a pool or a beach. I hate the sand.

Doomed.

Doomed to forget.

You will forget.

A hot summer packed full of the gloom that Death oh-so-generously leaves in its wake. Two funerals, both for grandparents dear to me. Lives quickly broken down into dust by the silent destruction brought by Alzheimer's.

Unavoidable.

Unpreventable.

Carved in stone.

I know my fate matches theirs. It's in my blood. I can do things to try and extend my time before I become burdened with it, but ultimately it will claim me as well. It will tear little chunks of my life from my hands that clutch them so desperately. It will take away everything I know.

I will forget.

I will forget.

I will forget.

Tick tock, tick tock, the clock marches me towards my death. My body will live longer than I. When I pass, the people I used to love will have already been grasping the hand of my corpse. I will not know who they are. I will not know who they were to me, their names, the way they made me feel. None of the things that matter the most out of absolutely everything will stay.

necessity obviously

I wish I could wear nails 😭😭 dude I would absolutely ham with these. Summer fits would go so hard. Gotta stay short tho for guitar and bass. Or maybe I’ll invest and take a break for a bit. Think they’ll interfere with piano…??

Fruit Press On Nails // Pretty House Nails