I watched my kingdom deteriorate slowly until it became a nothingless void. Ancient Laramidia couldn't survive extinction status but I was already a dying carnivore long before the end. They all knew me as a predator but it wasn't all true. I walked the lonesome path because I didn't know how to allow anyone else to walk beside me. I looked in the reflection in the lake ripples but couldn't see past my own impossible flaws. I couldn't hug myself even if I wanted to. I played the role of an apex scavenger when I always wanted to be more. The reputation of this Cretaceous period lies solely within my fossilized monarchy. How could I be unafraid when I was simply pretending to be? How do we love ourselves despite our demons manifesting deep within ourselves? With a crown so heavy on my head and cruel irony forever tormenting me. Everyone else seems to be content with their bodies and self-image but not me. Why is self-esteem so easily attainable for everyone but me? I didn't choose to be like this. I didn't choose to look like this nor feel like this. I'm supposed to be a king on a massive throne but this throne is powerless to give me what I truly want. Acceptance of one's self despite contradictions and abnormalities. There are the dinosaurs that fly in the sky and they are happy and at peace. There the ones that roam in herds and can actually touch their loved ones. I am burdened to walk this path alone with no regard for my own admiration. What can I do when all I want is to be something more? My aspirations are dwindling. I cannot bear the weight of this heavy crown forever. I watched the twinkling stars evolve into morning light and hazy dewdrops. I spied out of the corner of my eye a comet in the sky. Maybe this will be the change I so instantly crave. Something to make me quit comparing myself to everyone else. When my world shifted completely, I was still left with this burden. I hope my ancestors do not carry this meaningless weight as I once did. It achieves nothing to be so preoccupied with hating your own worth. I questioned my own meaning and my own existence. My crown is heavy with self-doubt. I can only hope I learn to accept these imperfections and remember, I am worthy and I am enough just as I am
About the Creator
Anna Torres
I’m a 37-year old mother. I love reading, metal music, and writing. I have begun writing again since 2021
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Katana
You didn't care what happens to me. I stopped caring what happens to you. Transparency was never your strongest attribute nor was your hospitality. Because of you, I spoke melancholy fluently. I was the ocean trying so desperately to wave at you but you were the moon and you wouldn't look downward. I was in the spillways while you were in the clouds. Subterranean tunnels and hot air balloons. Gutterballs and solar flares. You were the gravity in the entire universe while I was dwelling in the mantle of the planet you developed amnesia about. I wasn't authorized to speak up and use my voice. You were the override that rescinded each and every choice. The vagueness didn't add to any absent conversation. Your deliberate attempts at lying were made straight to my face. I didn't believe in gullibility until the veil was lifted. I didn't know my loyalty and dedication were not reciprocated until the very end. Your words couldn't realign with any thoughtless action. Your absent mindfulness sliced through my peripheral vision like a katana. I was always prepared for self-sabotage but this all came from you. Every scenario played out in my mind except for this one. Any sword would have done less damage than what your intentions unloaded. My plans have more velocity and more fury than any blade from any bygone era. This is not my punishment nor my fault. This was the result of incompetence and incompatibility but I kept trying despite the obvious. What a Sisyphean endeavor but I chose to keep failing. You never had access to my heart because it was never yours to begin with. I knew inevitably this would run its course but I hoped it would end at my own choosing. You didn't take the truth with you when you left. The universe didn't throw a wrench into my blueprints. It threw a dagger into my coveted and prolonged suffering. What a weapon to use against my chainmail and unexpected resurrection. I have created my own katana, dripping with ferocious rage and the ability to conquer. Forged with ambition and a sense of renewed purpose. I am my own master and I will slay those who say otherwise. I don't have anymore to give you, not even a goodbye
By Anna Torres25 days ago in Poets
making space
Since the only thing that might pull us back up is caring, it only makes sense that here, long after I’ve let my anger born of heartbreak and grief misplace, multiply, misdirect itself, let the enormity of my solitude turn into something I don’t know how to dispute with, something thick and heavy and suffocating, let the coldness thrash and fight under my skin, deeper still, in between the arches of my organs; here where the ground is always close and the fall is easy and I surrender to it often, lie without purpose for hours, it only makes sense that it is here, I decide to show up and surrender to the possibilities of the night. Show up to those who I deserted. Drawn to the sense of accomplishment, something I haven’t felt in a while, to memory of finished dish sending its aroma into the world and with it, wrapping the room with a strong sense of sweet nostalgia, I get up and decide to cook. I pick up my phone, type a message that reads “Dinner at mine @ 8PM, don’t bring anything” and before my courage deserts me again, drop it in our friends’ group chat, the way one would do when diffusing a bomb in the movies: one eye closed, snip at the wire, hoping for the best.
By Mesh Toraskarabout 20 hours ago in Feast
Comments (1)
Awww, I wish I could give him a hug. Loved this so much!