#writerssoul
“The way the rain falls outside of my window, deafening and tranquil—each individual splatter leaves me breathless. Listening to the rain for hours can bring a sense of peace and belongingness I never knew existed. And even during those moments, where the sky creates chaos, when the clouds heavily cry, is where I find my sanity. In the small moments of rain is when my mind remains silent and my emotions become ragingly loud.”
S.V//Rainy Days//@sempiternal.poet on Instagram
“Sometimes, life is fucking hard. It’s unforgivable and ruthless. I know it’s not supposed to be easy, but I can’t help but to think about the what if’s. What if my life could somehow change into something else? What if people who used to be close to me came back? What if. What if. What if.
Destructive and intrusive thoughts keep me awake at night. My mind replays the past over and over and over again. Places I wish I could go back to. People I wish to talk to again. Memories to drown myself in. Moments as a teenager, whether good or bad, to find solace again. What if I could revisit those times? What would I do? What if. What if. What if.
Sometimes I wish I could talk to those I still love. Old friends. Old lovers. Distant family. I still care about people who’ve done me wrong. It must be the way that I’m wired because I still care about all those who’ve entered and left my life. What if I could talk to them again? What would I say? What would they say? What if. What if. What if.”
—S.V//What If//@sempiternal.poet on Instagram
“And I think grief applies to more than just death. Grieving from failed relationships, from parental relationships, from the person you used to be a few years ago. It hits like a tidal wave, submerging and relentless, and before there’s any time to process—to breathe—the waves keep hiting, harder and harder. Grief can happen suddenly and effectively, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever admitted to myself.”
—S.V//Grief//@sempiternal.poet on Instagram.
“There’s something constantly swirling inside my head—the persistent questions of attempting to fix what is broken. Dealing with everything at once uses an immense amount of energy, but leaves me empty, desperately wanting to change the deepest parts of myself to make all of the pieces fit.
Reminiscing on an old life, an old personality. The pain of loneliness cuts too deep, a reminder of growth from adolescence, but losing myself in the process. Sometimes it’s dangerous to miss my old self. Being content in my skin and having the ability to control the things around me. Now I want to tear away, shed my skin like a snake and become someone else.
The continuous scrutiny from my old life is a reminder of why relationships fell apart the way that they did—painful and unexpected. Expectations began to crumble with age, eyes that view the world in colors changed to only seeing black and white. People who were made to believe that they were irreplaceable said farewell. Ghosts from the past continue to linger.
And I read a book that dealt with grief and it was relatable, even when no one passed. When my entire life shifted on its axis, that’s when I knew the words were relevant. The words that are repeated like a mantra: one day at a time. Even after I endure emotional blows, I’ll take it one day at a time. And until I feel the sadness slip away, I’ll keep reminding myself to take it one day at a time.”
—S.V//One Day at a Time//@sempiternal.poet on Instagram
