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10 entries this month
Been one of those days18:01 Apr 30 2026
Times Read: 97
I’m being dragged in twenty directions,
threads of me pulled so tight
I can hear the strain in my own spirit.
Everyone wants a piece,
and I keep giving,
even when I’m down to the thinnest version
of myself.
I move because I must,
not because I have anything left to give.
And somewhere inside this storm of hands
and voices
and expectations,
I’m whispering for a place
where the world stops tugging.
A quiet place.
A warm place.
A place with arms strong enough
to hold me still
without asking for anything in return.
A place where the spirits around me
aren’t draining me,
but standing guard —
steady, ancient, protective —
keeping the chaos at the door
while I breathe again.
I don’t need perfection.
I don’t need answers.
I just need a moment
where I’m not being pulled apart,
where I can rest
in warmth,
in strength,
in something that doesn’t take
but gives me back to myself.
Just one quiet place
where I can finally
exhale.
17:54 Apr 30 2026
Times Read: 100
There is a sound inside me
that never makes it to the air —
a raw, tearing scream
that ricochets off the walls
of the labyrinth I keep waking up in.
I run my hands along the stone
trying to remember
which turn leads out,
which shadow is mine,
which voice belongs to me
and not the dark.
Every corridor looks the same.
Every thought loops back
to the place I started —
the center of myself
where the silence is too loud
and the fear is too familiar.
I can see the key.
It glints in the distance,
mocking me with its nearness —
close enough to want,
far enough to break me.
My fingers stretch toward it
until they tremble,
until they burn,
but it stays just out of reach,
like freedom with a cruel sense of humor.
So I scream —
not with my voice,
but with the part of me
that still refuses to die.
A soundless, shaking cry
that says:
I am trapped,
I am trying,
I am here,
I am not giving up
even when the walls don’t move.
And somewhere in this maze,
even if I can’t see it yet,
there is a path
that leads back to myself.
Until then,
I walk.
I reach.
I scream in the dark
so I don’t disappear in it.
17:17 Apr 30 2026
Times Read: 105
There’s a quiet in me
that isn’t peace —
more like the world has dimmed
and I’m walking through it
with my hands out,
trying to find the edges
of myself.
Some days I feel sharp,
like every thought has teeth.
Other days I feel blurred,
as if I’m fading at the corners
and no one notices
the way I’m slipping
into the background.
I’m tired
in a way sleep can’t touch.
Heavy
in a way words can’t hold.
Still moving,
but not sure if I’m moving forward
or just moving
because stopping feels worse.
But even in this fog,
there’s a small part of me
that refuses to go silent —
a thin, stubborn thread
that says:
I’m still here.
Even when I don’t feel like much.
Even when I want to disappear.
Even when the world feels too loud
or too far away.
This is my truth right now —
not pretty,
not polished,
but real.
And maybe that’s enough
for this moment.
morning reflection11:39 Apr 30 2026
Times Read: 115
The morning breaks too quickly,
all rushing clocks and sharp demands,
but beneath the noise
your pulse carries a different truth —
a quiet ache,
a hollow space beside you
that still remembers warmth.
You move through the rooms alone,
but something in the air feels altered,
as if the day is watching you
with a tilted head
and a knowing smile.
There’s a tension under your skin,
a whisper that today
might not stay harmless.
That somewhere in the blur of tasks
and the weight of your own thoughts,
you might feel a presence
that stands a little too close,
speaks a little too softly,
looks at you like they see
every locked door in your chest
and aren’t afraid of any of them.
Not a threat —
just a possibility wrapped in shadow,
the kind of danger that doesn’t harm,
only awakens.
So you step into the day
with your heart bruised,
your schedule overflowing,
and that quiet, electric hope
coiled low inside you —
because even in the loneliness,
you can sense it:
something dark and compelling
is moving toward you,
slow as a promise.
04:49 Apr 28 2026
Times Read: 190
You don’t know this,
but when the dark in me grows loud,
your presence softens it.
You brighten places in me
I don’t show to anyone,
and you do it without effort,
without even trying to be anything
but yourself.
So may the night return that light to you.
May it wrap around you the same way
your quiet warmth wraps around me.
May every kindness you offer without thinking
find its way back to your own heart,
gentle and steady.
And may you always know this truth:
you make the world easier for me to stand in,
simply by being who you are.
That is your gift.
And I am grateful for it.
15:23 Apr 27 2026
Times Read: 217
“Een mooie maandag gewenst… en sterkte met de clowns die zichzelf serieus nemen
09:31 Apr 26 2026
Times Read: 242
My early morning musing .....
Soft and Confusing
It settles over you like a half‑remembered dream—
warm, hazy,
a sensation more than a thought.
Nothing is sharp.
Nothing is certain.
Everything is drifting in slow motion,
as if the world is wrapped in gauze
and you’re moving through it
by instinct alone.
There’s a sweetness in it,
a pull you can’t quite explain,
like something brushing your skin
that you can’t see
but you feel anyway.
It’s the kind of confusion
that doesn’t frighten—
it just makes you breathe slower,
listen closer,
wonder what exactly is waking up
inside you.
Soft, confusing,
and strangely beautiful—
like moonlight on water
that won’t stay still
no matter how long you watch it.
08:15 Apr 26 2026
Times Read: 245
It seems we both have a thing for playing with fire ... This feels ike it could get very dangerous. 💞💓💋
02:28 Apr 20 2026
Times Read: 303
A clear, bitter venom
that moves through me
drop by deliberate drop.
Frustration pulses
like something with fangs,
pressing against the inside of my ribs
as if it wants out,
as if it’s tired of being civilized.
And the lostness —
that’s the toxin’s carrier.
A slow drift through fog
where every direction feels wrong,
every step dissolves behind me,
and even my own shadow
won’t commit to staying.
I feel like a creature
built from cold blood and instinct,
moving because stopping
would mean letting the venom settle.
So I keep going.
Jaw tight.
Pulse steady.
Carrying this quiet poison
not to use it —
but because it’s the only thing
that reminds me
I’m still alive enough
to feel the sting.
02:23 Apr 20 2026
Times Read: 307
The Cold Bite Beneath My Tongue
There is a snarl
lodged behind my teeth,
sharp enough to cut me
every time I try to speak.
I am tired
of swallowing it.
Tired of pretending
the taste of iron
is anything but rage.
My anger is not fire —
fire warms.
This is frostbite,
slow and merciless,
gnawing its way inward
until even my breath
cracks.
Frustration coils in me
like a jaw unhinging,
ready to bite down
on anything that moves
too close.
And the lostness —
it’s the worst of it.
A white-out blizzard
inside my skull,
no path,
no shape,
just the sound of my own steps
disappearing behind me
as if I was never there.
I feel like a creature
with no den,
no direction,
just teeth and cold
and the instinct to keep going
even when the world
offers nothing
but more ice.
But I’m still here.
Jaw clenched.
Breath sharp.
Teeth bared just enough
to remind the dark
I haven’t broken yet.
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COMMENTS
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Cadrewolf2
22:45 Apr 30 2026
Meaningfully words