I Exist - Tumblr Posts

Symbiosis

Pov I go into intense detail on why specific pictures are me

But then realize after I sound like I'm bouncing my energy off of other people and I'm like are they actually me fr 🤔🧐😦

Prt two as well

Part 2

I'm struggling but alive 👍

Pov I go into intense detail on why specific pictures are me

But then realize after I sound like I'm bouncing my energy off of other people and I'm like are they actually me fr 🤔🧐😦

Prt two as well

I am here. I am here. I  am here. I exist. I exist. I exist. I hear it then. And it asks all the things I am too afraid to think. Who are you trying to convince? It whispers. You or them?

The voices

If no one heard it, did it happen?

If a person cannot leave a mark, do they exist?

(The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab)

Proof of my existence:

I am my unmade bed

My week old unfolded laundry that was Fresh once

I am the disappointment in my mothers eyes

And the scars I have left on lovers and strangers

I am my clothes I have donated

And my compilation of pintrest boards the innocent scroller will accidentally stumble across

I am the the jokes I penciled into the walls of my middle school bathroom stall

I am the dust I leave behind

Dead skin cells, reminder that they were living once

I was living once

I had once had the pleasure of laying my palm against the surface of something tangible and it felt the contact as much as I did

I am the peices of myself I have left scattered in the people I have let hold me

Long enough for parts of me to become caught under their fingernails and in their eyelashes

I am not my mistakes

But I am their consequences

I am shrapnel scars left by the promises I shattered

I am the pastries I have bought

My coin accumulating into something greater than it once was

And in that small way I make someone's dream a reality

And in that small way I am immortalized

I am the corners of novel pages I have folded

And the sentences I have left highlighted and the notes I have scrawled in its margins

I am the half finished stories I wrote in the 6th grade

I am my poetry

And the things I have discarded

I am my clouded breath dancing on the cold wind momentarily before dissipating

As it becomes one with the ether forever adrift

And in that small way I am immortalized

I am my embarrassing childhood photographs

I am the energy you spent on me and the time you wasted on us

I am the things I have created but perhaps more the absence left in the wake of the things I have destroyed

I am the stains I have left and the sins I have committed

Out of spite, out of desperation, frivolously or unwittingly.

I am the way my name burns yours tounge when your mouth tries to wrap itself around its pronunciation and the scalding memories

I am

I was

here.

Do you ever feel invisible?

If you see this, thanks a lot.

Account Intro post!

Preferable name: Andry

Pronouns: They/He

Age: ≤56 years, 3 months, 2 weeks, 6 days, 5 hours, 28 minutes and 31 seconds.

Alt account: @astroandry

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