If I could only listen to one classical piece of music for the rest of my life, it would be Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. It makes me feel like I'm riding in the car on a cold winter day when no snow has fallen, but rain is pouring down, just lightly enough for me to see through the trees. I can see the fog of my breathe against the frosted glass beside me, and I can feel the cold seeping through and freezing my flesh while warming my bones. I'm on my was to something devastating and exciting, leaving a version of me in the past, spread out across the chilly, rocky concrete. I have many regrets but they are irrelevant and fail to sting like vomit in my stomach. My fingers are numb, as well as my nose and myself. It feels good. It feels disturbingly right.
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I've always thought
We were like post-it notes You were yellow I was blue You were covered with cartoons and smudged pencil I was riddled with doodles in permanent ink You loved What I loved You laughed When I laughed We never cried At the same time I'll never stop wishing We could've been it But now we're stuck A confusing something ~Margo Numb
Is the back of my head Where her splinters quake, The daggers of vulnerability. Promises of pain, Hopes of despair. My fingertips shift against the glass As our spotlights shine as hands touch I am a dismembered ship whose Rocky touch Smoothes the shore, your cement. Our lights shine purple and blue The glass shards sting not Under my nonexistent feet. The splinters pause, The grating subdues. I am a mountain. I touch the stars. -Margo So things change, apparently. And god damn does it sure suck.
My boyfriend and I ended it. Or should I say, he ended it, because he wasn't ready to be a boyfriend. And honestly, I agree, and I'd been considering ending it myself. But that doesn't mean it's easy for forget the moment I planned to ask him to Formal, the day he'd hold my hand in the school hallway, the time he'd win me a stuffed animal at a carnival. I plan too much. I wish I could be witty. I don't have enough time. I drink too much cram-grape juice. My poetry is shit. ~Margo "If you love me, let me go." -Panic! At The Disco If my heart was a house
You'd be the paint Hugging the walls and hiding my color To make me appear more welcoming You'd be the lamp In the corner of the room That gives me light to read on the couch And turns on and off with the flick of a switch You'd be the comforter Surrounding my skeleton To give me warmth in the dreadful winter And suffocate me in the endless summer You'd be the coffee pot Giving me energy for the day With a sweet bitter flavor That makes me dependent You'd be the mirror Watching me dance Admitting my tears And reflecting the fire that burns in my eyes If your heart was a house You'd be the gate And I'd be left out With a book to wait. ~Margo I suppose it's a good mess.
I used to always complain about how boring my life was, and granted, it was in fact extremely boring. No friends who wanted to hang out, no extracurriculars, no volunteer jobs. These days I rarely find a day without something scheduled. When I was younger I would have loved that, but now, I don't know. I love all of the things I'm doing, but I rarely get me time outside the hours between 11:00PM-6:00AM. I have so much personal work I need to do with myself, and how can I with outside sources always changing what I'm doing and how I'm thinking? Thank god vacation is coming up. Don't get me wrong, I'll miss my best friends and my boyfriend like hell, but I need to breath without getting the feeling that I'm breathing in someone else's air. I only have about 12 free hours with which to pack for a two and a half week camping trip that I leave for in three days. I have my list ready, and it's mostly throwing things in tubs and deciding what books to bring. Or at least, that's what I try to tell myself. Shoutout to my anti-anxiety medication for keeping me on the rails this week tho. Have I mentioned my boyfriend yet? Because if I haven't, oh boy. Literally. ~Margo xx Hey :) It's been a long time since I posted on here, due to my laptop getting a virus and the weebly app being awful. I missed this.
I always thought I needed to urgently write out how I felt on here whenever I felt some major emotion, whether it be happiness or loneliness, because I thought I needed to remember how to feel those intense emotions. In reflection, I don't feel the emotions I felt when writing these entries, which makes me feel like I should be worried because it's dulling who I really am in those moments. But then I realized that those moments are not me in their entirety. I'm never always passionate and I'm never always moderate, I'm a mix. I'm a mix of everything and everyone, and I don't need to define myself by the most appealing traits because I am all of them in some way, which is okay. I don't need to have an opinion on everything and I don't need to be neutral either. Sometimes I'll be those things, but not always. I'm not only the me who cries at 2 am. I'm not who I am in desperate moments. And it's okay to have off days and to spend a couple in bed, healing. I'm everything. I'm the stars and the moon and the ground and the beautiful flowers and the beautiful weeds and the countries I've never even been to. The factions of my personality are not as separate as I thought. They're blurred at the edges, and white hot in the middle. I like that. ~Margo I may not be the girl who is always in good company alone
But I am the woman who tucks herself into bed each night when I'm blinded by lack. I may not be the girl who always takes chances But I am the women who has faced her fears everyday since the sun stopped opening her eyes. I may not be the girl who knows karma will avenge her But I am the woman who knows what's important in the grand scheme she'll never figure out. I may not be the girl who always stands up for herself But I am the woman who counts her self worth in what she loves. I may not be who you think I am. But I am me. Whether I like it or not. ~Margo My family tells me to be myself
My friends tell me to find myself Society tells me to judge myself My bullies tell me to hate myself. And all this they say as if I don't know myself. How are they so sure The girl they know Is not who I am? ~Margo I know this is like my fourth fucking post of the day but no ones even reading this so i guess it doesn't matter. I'm just so fucking pissed and I'm crying and I can barely even see the keyboard. I don't even know what to do anymore. I del like everything has been ripped away from me, like my hopes were torn from my white knuckled hands and I don't know what to hold on to now. I know how stupid and ridiculous it is to feel this way about someone I was never even with but I can't fucking help how bad it hurts. I'm sick to my stomach and it feels like my gut is being ripped from my body. I was so fucking stupid, it's all my goddamn fault! I let myself believe! I let myself be fooled by his charm and his fucking smile and I let him play with me like I was play thing he could drop when a better option came along. And I fucking let him do it!!!!! I let myself be worth nothing just so he could take me with no consequences and I'm just such a fucking idiot!! Why do I keep letting myself be so disappointed whenever I believe in anything, for even a moment. I can feel myself reverting to the person I was with my ex-best friend and I hate that me but this just hurts so much. I can't let myself hurt, I can't let him affect me if he never even thinks about me. Now I know how Neal feels about Kate. It's impossible to let go when you still have that last shred of useless, irrelevant, misplaced hope.
~Margo |
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December 2019
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