jadethelittlewitch

I am a student. I am fiesty. A lover. A fighter. I am resilient. I am weak. I am that I am. Instagram: jadethelittlewitch

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  • jadethelittlewitch 7w

    The Deep End

    Open up the gates
    I walk to the edge
    The water rages below
    Swirling, dark pools crashing into one another
    The sky an inky black oil spill with hints of grey
    Not a star or moon to be found
    I feel no fear
    This is my home
    I spend much of my time here
    Reflecting and speculating
    Complicating the simple
    Feeling each mistake creep into my mind
    Reminding me I belong here
    You can leave me here
    And I'll find my way to the bottom
    I'll soak there, taking water into my lungs
    The salt wrinkles my skin, the creatures there passing me by, paying me no mind
    Remember, they know me here
    Eventually I will come up for air
    For now, let me be.

    ©jadethelittlewitch

  • jadethelittlewitch 16w

    Tell me
    Am I a pyscho because you aren't willing to
    learn what made me this way?
    Am I crazy for craving understanding?
    Am I strange because I wear my scars as a badge of honor?
    Am I unwanted because you chose to let me drift away?

    Tell me
    Why are you invested in a version of me that never existed?
    Why do you fight tooth and nail to keep me suppressed?
    Why am I the sole owner of the guilt and shame?

    Tell me
    Would you believe me if I told you I gave it my all?
    Would you believe the possibility that you your wrong about me?
    Would anyone? Would I?

    Tell me

    ©jadethelittlewitch

  • jadethelittlewitch 16w

    Word Prompt:

    Write a 8 word one-liner on Guilty

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    The sinking, desolate sensation that plagues my being.

  • jadethelittlewitch 16w

    Lucid, a relative term; we crave sanity and yet chase the manic and damned.

    ©jadethelittlewitch

  • jadethelittlewitch 16w

    @writersnetwork @miraquill
    *trigger warning: reader discretion advised.

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    Untamed pt. 2

    Footsteps.

    His thundering footsteps echoed off the deserted buildings around us. We had successfully secured fuel and oil for the Old Ford, and had begun the trek back to it. He walked a little straighter this time around, happier, even. The uncomfortable silence from moments past had disappeared, and left hesitant joy in its place. The thought crossed my mind: it can't be that easy.

    Stars.

    The cloudy sky had begun to clear up, leaving a thick blanket of stars behind. I looked up, gazing at its beauty, hoping the Heavens would bless us with a working vehicle.

    Nowhere.

    We neared the truck, in record time. He dropped the gas can and other supplies on the wet ground under his feet and got to work. I climbed into the cab and leaned the seat back so I could rest my eyes; after all, I had nowhere special to be. After a few minutes, I heard a sudden slam of the hood and opening of the driver's side door. He grinned and said "We are good to go babe."

    Radio.

    We pulled onto the road, leaving the desolate mood and dreadful evening behind. He turned on the radio, and a slow, droning country ballad began to play. He hummed along, and I could feel the joy beginning to pour out of him like liquor to a shot glass. I answered my earlier thought: yes it can be that easy, just look at him.

    Porch light.

    We pulled into the driveway of our tiny house, and breathed a sigh of relief; we made it. We exited the truck and made our way to the door. The porch light released a steady stream of dim, yellow light. As I reached for the door know, he grasped my hand. I looked into his puppy dog eyes, and felt happier than I had in weeks.

    Change.

    I was relieved to shed my wet clothing and switch to a warm sweater. I put on a pot of coffee, and plopped down next to him on our ratty, green couch. He jumped and said "Watch what the hell you're doing, you make me spill this shit and it's your ass." I looked down to find he had found his way a bottle of brown gold, and was generously filled his glass. I sighed.

    Shock.

    The anger that showed in his eyes from my response to his statement frightened me. Not because I had never seen him angry, but because it happened so fast, like a crack of lightning. I stood up and shouted, "Enough!". When he stood, he raised his hand and slapped me so hard it felt as if a rock had struck me. It shocked me so profoundly I wondered if I had imagined it.

    Survival.

    The moments after the thunderous slap felt like a daze. I drunkenly stumbled to our bed room prepared to barricade myself until he let me be. With tears running down my face, I shut and locked the door, hoping he would give up. My hopes were useless. He punched the door repeatedly, steady screaming. He managed to break through, and lept across the room at me. Something in me snapped; something cracked wide open, and I began to fight back. I threw every reachable object I could at him; clothes hangers, TV remote, books. Finally, I grabbed his prized possession: his guitar.

    Silence.

    When he realized I clutched in my hands the only thing he ever really cared about, he stopped. He stopped reaching for me, he stopped punching, he stopped screaming. He just stopped. Not a word escaped his whiskey soaked mouth. He looked at me, terrified. I glared back, daring him to inch closer. The silence swallowed us, trapping the anger, the anguish, the guilt, and we drowned in it all.

    Break.

    After a perpetually long moment, I lowered the instrument. The rage that swirled in me simmed down, evaporating from me. My jaw unclenched, my brows unknitted themselves. My glare became a desperate cry for freedom, the unrelenting need to break free. And with tears in his eyes, he went to the closet to look for his duffle bag. He slowly deposited some clothes inside, and as he did so he said, "I need to leave. I'm not good for you. I hurt you."

    I thought of all the ways he was indisputably right. Flashes of prior recollections danced in my head. I thought of every insult, every feeling of blame, every drunken night spent on the tile of our bathroom floor, every dollar wasted, every trip to the gas station for groceries because otherwise we would have starved. And as these thoughts filled my head, I felt something else: the compulsive, idiotic, hopeless desire for him to stay.

    And he did. We sobbed in each other's faces until our eyes refused to produce more tears. We held each other tighter than ever before, afraid one of us would blink out of existence if we let go. We played pretend, like children, not willing to admit that we were more than flawed. We were damaged, illogical, unassailably wrong for it. We remained in that wild state until we were too exhausted to function, and slept like babies for the remainder of the night. Unshakable. Changeless. Loathsome. Untamed.




    ©jadethelittlewitch

  • jadethelittlewitch 16w

    Anything

    Anything is everything when nothing has been yours for so long. Anything, anyone, anywhere could become everything you've ever dreamed of, when the world rips open your secrets and leaves with your sins. And when you become so dolorous, hateful, hopeless, anything can become your everything.

    ©jadethelittlewitch

  • jadethelittlewitch 16w

    Mind

    It's hard to find peace of mind when your mind has been floating aimlessly through time. No recollection of days past, and no future to be cast. The storm weathered and moved on, and yet I'm still being pulled here and there by angry winds growing more angry by the second. I count those seconds, like some deranged hag, spouting out thoughts better left unsaid. Maybe it is sensible, maybe it is dribble. Maybe I am need a safe place to rest my puzzled cranium. Then again, I cannot rest, for I am searching for peace of mind.

    ©jadethelittlewitch

  • jadethelittlewitch 17w

    Unbound

    I am the very idea of motion.
    No longer held by ropes and chains of despair.
    I have been released by the desolate darkness, for it gave way to light.
    And the light which now flows around me shall be my salvation, I will cling to it, nurture it, bath in it, and allow it to swallow me whole.
    Movement is no longer a distant vision just barely out of reach.
    I tear through these roots, which entrapped me to the dirty forest floor.
    I am, at last, unbound.
    ©jadethelittlewitch

  • jadethelittlewitch 18w

    Safety Pins

    A gnawing feeling that claws the inside of my skull.
    My skin afire with nervous electricity, burning me through.
    Heart on its last leg, eyes bloodshot and weary from the absence of sleep;
    Sleep, a once welcome relief, now a screaming match between myself and my fear.
    In pieces I lay, pinned together with half-hopes and rusted safety pins.
    Crippled by unrest, maddened by the need to escape, and still I am pinned down by that which will release me.
    ©jadethelittlewitch

  • jadethelittlewitch 19w

    Linger

    The night is fading, driving away the creatures that thrive it
    Daylight begins to burn away the dark cocoon around us
    We are no longer safe
    We long for the night to linger, and shield us from the woes of the daytime
    In the darkness, we flourish. We ran about like wolves, chasing prey, howling into the abyss, not concerned of who would hear us, for no one dare disturb our mountainous harmonies.
    We raced through the cool air, wind nipping our noses and ears, but never cold, for the warmth of our bodies carried us along the journey.
    And when our trek ended, and the firey dawn began to spread its fingers through the land, we shrank back into to lesser versions of ourselves; fearful, reticent beings, longing for dusk, praying the darkness will linger just a bit more.

    ©jadethelittlewitch