Isolation - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

If gas was free I think I would just drive all the time. I could just listen to music and drive through pretty land and pretend like I don’t exist. Also, maybe if my car’s check engine light didn’t come on whenever I drive for too long.

I feel incredibly heartless, but not in a way that hurts me, only those who are more sensitive and well meaning than I am.

I AM SO FREAKING BORED. I finished all the work I had to get done and now all I have on the agenda today is make coffee, listen to an audiobook, and take a nap. Maybe I will get a Chickfila lemonade later. Yeah I think I will do that. I guess tomorrow I will be hanging out with Kate, so that will be fun. We can get a little bevy. I need to do my laundry and that take freaking forever. I love the smell of the laundry room in Hart, it smells like clean clothes. I lowkey like the common area too on that side of Hart. It is lowkey so cluttered and a little trashy but haha it’s kind of iconic. Just as iconic as the weed smell.

Insta sleeve #001. Go find some meaning in these lyrics because off late it's hard to make people understand with conversation. . . . 'Cause it might've been something, who's to say? Does it help to get lost in yesterday? And you might've missed something, don't say 'Cause it has to be lost in yesterday And you're gonna have to let it go someday You've been diggin' it up like Groundhog Day 'Cause it might've been something, don't say 'Cause it has to be lost in yesterday . @tameimpala #arttalk #vinyl #sleeve #latenight #design #donebyartisto #retrowave #retroaesthetic #feels #slowrush #isolation #thoughts (at Kolmanskop, Karas, Namibia) https://www.instagram.com/p/B-ZJP_4puLN/?igshid=94fn548pwp3d

Miss Sun

I miss the sun

She has ran away

Her distant rays

No longer

Kiss my skin

She was here

Shining down

When kids would play

Without me

And now

I’m cold

Feeling dread

Seep through my bones

Nude

Every scar visible

Covered in fresh blood

The only heat

My frozen soul

Can feel

Subtle whispers

Turned into uproars

Silence

Vacant rooms

For their hate

Rent free

Inside my head

Paling features

Dull and bland

Lost expressions

Feelings none

Stay

I’m afraid

They wounded

The clueless lover

A constant fighter

Desperate cries

Wrack my body

As I shiver

As I shake

The ones

Who are family

Mother and father

Two fools

That forget about their kid

Sun

Why did you leave

We had something

Your light

My darkness

We balanced each other out

But the bitter truth

I am nothing

Without you

You are everything

Without me

Had I lost purpose

Caramel skin

Now rotting flesh

Disposed prison

My heart 

Still bound

To the inside 

Of a bottomless pit

Filled with fear

Longing for escape

Miss Sun

I still need you

Valentine’s Day Blues

Like most

Little girls

I had daydreams

Filled with 

White roses

And chocolates

Small stolen kisses

And midnight rambling

As the credits roll

Movie long forgotten

As we snuggle closer

On a couch

That’s a little too

Small

Why did love

Have to be so cruel

I wanted

Happily ever after

I didn’t need

A prince charming

No 

Damsel in distress

Wasn’t the role for me

I can slay

My own dragons

Extinguish

The hellfire

That threatens my heart

But the emptiness

A simple void

Beautifully dark abyss

Where love

Is supposed to reside

In my person

A body

With a soul

But no heart

Is no better

Than a walking corpse

Playing in fields

Of rotting flesh

Dead flies

Buzz in my ears

As I whisper lies

To myself 

Like always

Trying to comfort

The beast within

Claws scratch

At scarred skin

Vibrant rubies

Exposed on charred meat

Crystals of pure agony

Stain hollowed features

Crisp ivory flashes

Under dim moonlight

The canopy above

Blocking view

Of the heavens

Dancing in cerulean flames

Licking at my pelt

As bones creak

Under the pressure

Of shockwaves and despair

Isolation is a beauty

Long snow hair

Trailed behind her

Weaved with flowers

Eternal blooms

Radiating life

Well death

Wilted petals

Sucked dry

As the demon herself

Walks the earth

Grass withers

Skies darken

Clouds heavy

With unspoken trauma

Fires spark

Engulfing entire trees

Ancient and mighty

Reduced to ashes

In mere moments

Elegance glazes 

Her tribulate eyes

Where earth and heaven meets

Pain will rise

Cruel reality

Slips from her lips

Poison to my weakened heart 

Such a sweet melody

That she sings

Just for me

Misery dressed lullaby

Love dressed lust

Hope dressed death

I cry out

Broken howls

At the smirking satellite

That watches me

The world burns around me

Yet the room 

I lay

Is barren

Reflecting my heart

Next episode

Flashes on the screen

As tissues 

Lay scattered

On a floor

That seems so far

Yet close 

My grave calls me

The pain in my cries

Bittersweet

A choked song

Escapes my lips

Dear love

Why must you be so cruel

I didn’t mean

To be so damaged

I tried

I will still try

Please 

Give me 

Another chance

Nothing more

Than a ghost

Wrapped in life

Devoid of 

Happy Valentine

the five person theory

I was watching the movie The Lighthouse recently and came to the conclusion that the perfect number of people to put in a lighthouse/ space ship/ submarine/ sparsely populated arctic research base/ ect is five.

A single person in isolation is almost guaranteed to go crazy. Two people are likely to end up either hating each other or falling madly in love, probably both. And usually one or both goes a little mad.

Three seems like the perfect number, because you have a tie breaker and there’s usually enough sanity between three people to come to logical decisions. The problem is when the situation inevitably turns into a two vs one and now you’ve got to shoot your buddy Joe out the airlock because you and Fred know he was losing his mind. Then you’re left with the issue of two people.

Four presents similar issues to three, only now you lack a tie breaker, which could lead to a stand off, two vs two, until inevitably one of you betrays another. Then we have a three vs one situation, which is even more unbalanced against poor crazy Joe.

This is why five is the perfect number. You have a tie breaker and enough people to assume reasonably sound decisions and the ability to check one another. If you split into groups, then it most likely ends up as three vs two, which has much more even odds than two vs one or three vs one. Everyone can assume one or two friends, and, well if you all hate one guy, you definitely have the manpower to shoot him out the airlock without too much trouble.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

My big nightmare......

Just taken into asylum and no chance of getting out. Because others just keep saying that you are still insane.

From now on, others will make the decisions for him... Good for him.

I think I opted against posting this because I was "happy" for a time, but for me, that never lasts and most the time it's never even real.

It's all just...

Motionless

Sometimes, I feel motionless and it is something I wish would never leave.

Other times, I feel motionless and want it to go away, to never return to me.

I don't control either of these feelings, but they show how I'm feeling better than I could ever explain.

Sometimes, I'm motionless and everything stops. My fears, stress, and anxiety all stop.

Almost as if whatever I was dealing with has ran its course and is behind me.

Other times, I feel motionless like the world is trapping me in my worries and the future I know nothing about.

Feeling motionless is something I wish would happen more often, but I also wish to cease as well.

I try not to take this for granted. The feeling that I need to stop and pause because there's no rush to get to the end. I should take my time and just be motionless when I need to.

That feeling that the next second I waste doing nothing is only trapping me in my difficult moments. That staying still will only be my downfall.

No matter which one passed my night away, it's happening to remind me of the things that are gone and the things that will come.

Endless

The dreams I have I am surrounded by the sea

Nothingness and isolation smothers my mind

Numb

Endless

Vast

A fragile lifeline crumbles beneath the fury of the heavy waves

Departure isn’t a recourse

So I remain

Left behind

The Silent Hill Shaina Tranquilino October 15, 2024

The sun was sinking low, casting long shadows over the dense forest that surrounded the base of Silent Hill. Few locals dared to walk the trail that circled its base at dusk, for as long as anyone could remember, whispers echoed from the hilltop during the dying light. They weren't loud, but clear enough to unnerve even the boldest soul. "Turn back," they would say, in voices that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

Ben had heard the stories but dismissed them as nothing more than local superstition. He wasn’t from the small town that bordered the forest; he was an outsider, a hiker passing through, seeking solitude and challenge. He enjoyed proving myths wrong, finding in them only the fragile remnants of human fear. So, when the old man at the tavern had warned him about Silent Hill, he only laughed.

“Don’t ignore the whispers,” the old man had said. His voice had trembled in a way that made Ben almost uncomfortable. Almost.

“I’ll be fine,” Ben had responded with a grin, waving off the advice like he had heard it a thousand times.

Now, on the trail that wound around Silent Hill, dusk crept in like a slow-moving fog, draping the forest in muted colours. Ben's boots crunched on the gravel path, each step a lonely sound in the growing silence. The air grew cooler, heavier, and the wind rustled the leaves in a way that seemed offbeat, unnatural.

As he rounded a bend in the trail, the first whisper reached him.

"Turn back."

Ben froze mid-step. It had been soft, barely a breath, yet unmistakable. He looked around, eyes scanning the dense trees. There was no one. The forest was still.

He scoffed, shaking off the unease that tickled the back of his neck. Probably the wind, he thought, moving forward with renewed determination. But a few steps later, it came again, a little louder this time.

"Turn back."

He stopped again, his heartbeat quickening. The voice sounded close—too close—but still, there was no sign of anyone around. The trail was empty, the woods quiet. Ben frowned and continued walking, though his pace had slowed, his senses now heightened.

Then, more voices joined.

"Turn back," they whispered in unison, like a chorus carried on the wind.

He stopped cold. The whispers were no longer distant or vague; they seemed to come from the ground beneath his feet, from the trees themselves. His pulse pounded in his ears, and despite himself, a cold sweat began to form on his brow.

"Turn back," they repeated, insistent, urgent.

Ben spun around, expecting to see someone—a prank, perhaps, kids trying to scare him—but there was nothing, only the fading light of dusk and the looming presence of Silent Hill.

But he wasn’t the type to turn back. He pressed on, forcing his legs to move, though the unease crawled up his spine like icy fingers. His breath came in shorter bursts now, as if the very air had thickened with the weight of those disembodied voices.

The whispers grew louder, overlapping one another, coming from every direction.

"Turn back… Turn back… TURN BACK!"

He stumbled, his foot catching on a root, and for the first time, fear licked at his thoughts. His bravado cracked. He looked up at the hill, its silhouette darker than the encroaching night, an unnatural shadow blotting out the fading sky. It was then he saw it—movement, just at the top. A figure, standing still, watching him.

No. Not watching. Waiting.

The whispers stopped all at once, replaced by a thick, heavy silence that pressed on his eardrums, muting the world around him. Ben’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the figure that seemed to glide down the hill without moving its legs. It was tall, impossibly tall, its limbs thin and elongated, too long to be human. As it drew closer, Ben saw that its face—or what should have been its face—was a void, a featureless blackness that sucked in the last of the light.

The thing extended one of its arms, the limb bending unnaturally, almost serpentine. It pointed directly at him.

Suddenly, the whispers returned, but now they weren’t warnings. They were something else.

“He didn't listen,” they said in a soft, mournful chant. “He didn’t listen... He didn’t listen…”

Ben’s legs moved, but not by his will. He found himself walking, no, running—away from the hill, back toward town, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. The thing didn’t follow, but its presence lingered, a suffocating weight pressing down on his every breath.

By the time he reached the town’s edge, the sun had vanished completely, and the whispers had faded into the night. He stumbled back into the tavern, breathless, drenched in sweat, but alive.

The old man was still there, sitting at the bar, his eyes knowing, sad. Ben collapsed into a chair, shaking, his mouth struggling to form the words.

“I… I didn’t believe you.”

The old man gave a slow nod, his gaze distant. “Few ever do.”

Ben looked out the window, toward the dark silhouette of Silent Hill, a shiver running through him. He could still hear the final whisper, echoing in the depths of his mind.

"Next time, you won’t escape."

And he knew—there would be a next time.

I’m trapped. Literally. I’m constantly facing my triggers, again and again and again and again and again and again

I’m trapped inside my own head. I stare into space and everything becomes blurry, I’m back to where it all started. The emptiness, the abandonment, and the urge to self destruct.

Let the count down begin.

1

2

3

Family.

Bullshit. Absolute, utter bullshit. I was a toy. When I was no longer useful, I was tossed out like trash. I was abandoned.

Again.

Now, I’m back in the “ family”.

I’m facing my triggers every. Single. Fucking. Day.

I don’t know how much longer I can survive this. I’m going crazy. Everyone pities me.

Welcome old friend, have a seat. Make yourself comfy, get warm and cozy and I’ll remove the blood from my body to make a home for you.

Welcome home cptsd.

Queer I do not care what the person that i love is This individual trait supposedly makes me a part of a community However I do not feel that i belong there They are so proud and fierce This aspect of themselves  Seems to be far greater to them  Than mine is to me They accept this part of me But not who i am We are supposed to have this thing that binds us Yet it does not I still manage to be out of place surrounded by my own I do not have a place among the rest either No one seems to want me In regards to sex and love I have nowhere left to go This loneliness is no pleasure.

Everyone seems to have these connections That i know nothing of

i always feel so out of place i know its a classic teenage trope but i feel misunderstood i never seem to belong not even with my own flesh and blood. i do not know what is wrong with me although everyone else seems to know there is a fundamental difference that i cannot fix. sometimes i will come across someone just like me we spot one another and keep each other afloat perhaps we are the only ones that can the trouble is when they try to conform like the rest that is how they lose me for i cannot be like them and i know that others see it too. they know that i am different that there is something irreparably wrong.

people always think that i am faking it

something i had never considered

yet they seem to claim it regardless

i have thought of telling them otherwise

but they would never believe me.

i often mistake my relationships with others for genuine connection and feel that we are one and the same yet i still manage to be left behind i truly wish that i could pretend that i could be someone different but i cannot which is something that no one seems to understand to be someone else would be my salvation.

how could you possibly

be so blind

to what you have done

to me?

***

how could i possibly

be so blond

to what you have done

for me?

i never used to want to be pretty i just wanted to get my day over with and head to bed. these days i am less lucky i walk with beautiful people hoping to soak it in yet my endeavours never cease to be fruitless. to be beautiful would be to be another.