The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

"Why do I always feel like I'm not enough?"

Because you were taught to earn your place instead of believing you already belonged.
You learned to measure your worth by how much you gave, how little you needed, and how well you hid your pain.
It's hard to feel enough when your earliest proof of love was conditional.

"Hurt people hurt people though."

Not all hurt people hurt people.
Some spend their lives making sure one one else feels what they did.
Some break cycles.
Some build safe spaces.
Some turn pain into purpose.
Hurt people don't just hurt people.
Hurt people heal people too.

"... I just don't want to be like my parents."

Then you have to do what they couldn't, wouldn't, or didn't know how to.
Feel what they avoided.
Say what they silenced.
And heal what they passed down.
You don't break the cycle by becoming someone else.
You break it by becoming more YOU than you were ever allowed to be.

Sometimes I sit with this heavy thought...

How different life could've been if I ever got the chance to actually live... instead of constantly healing from things I never asked for. I wonder who I would've become if I wasn't always recovering from someone else's damage, from situations that weren't my fault but somehow became my responsibility to carry. There's a kind of sadness in realizing that most of my energy went into surviving, not living. And maybe that's what hurts the most - not what happened, but everything I missed while trying to make sense of it. The moments I lost. I deserved more. But life... it never waited for me to catch up. It just kept going while I stayed behind - patching up wounds I never caused.

I will leave such an imprint on your heart
that anyone you entertain after me
will have to know me in order to understand you.

i am made of bullets; shrapnel.
You are solar flares and soft lips -

Better creatures could love you, this I know.
But now they'll have to get through your memory of me.

As a woman, one of my deepest darkest desires is to be completely useless to men.
You know when they say women over 30 are expired; childfree women are selfish; ugly, fat, old women are unfuckable. I dream of being that level of useless to men. Because that's when they'll finally leave you alone. That level of isolated swamp witch...
No, actually they won't completely leave you alone - they'll keep reminding you that you're useless and unfuckable - which is great, because in their minds that's an insult but in mine it's an underestimated compliment. I dream of being fucking useless to men; because I wasn't born to be fucked and used by them. I use them as they tools the continue to prove themselves to be.

they call my honey,
so i paint my lips dark red.
they call me sweetheart,
and invite me into their beds.
they call my princess,
like that's my hidden "guilty" pleasure.
but i am a demon,
and a queen.
call me Goddess.

The night does not frighten me,
It is where I was born,
Under skies stitched with secrets,
And stars that learned to spell my name,
Now, every shadow is my kin.
With all my love.

I didn't rise from it.
I crawled, crept.

I still flinch at kindness,
like it's a trick,
like love is a hand
that closes into a fist.

Some days I'm fine.
I pay my bills,
I answer my texts,
I laugh at the right parts of conversation.

And then my body remembers
before my mind does.
A tight chest.
A sudden deep nausea.
The urge to ruin something good
just to feel in control again.

I survived it, yeah.
But I couldn't tell you how,
not now or ever.

All I know is
it hurts less than it did,
and more than I admit;
and I'm learning to hold myself
without gripping too hard.

Because, yeah, I'm still here.
And that has to count for something ...
Right?