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Hidden 6 yrs ago 4 yrs ago Post by Pathei Mathos
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April 26th, 2019
A Girl Has No Name

How can I continue on being called by my name
when it just doesn't sound quite the same?
The way it rolled off your tongue so smooth
but now I just want it to be removed.
Simply hearing my name makes me sick..
I hear it from you, fuck does it hurt like a bitch.
If only I could, I'd ask the Many-Faced Gods
but even then, what are the odds?
I'd give anything to become a girl who has no name..
Name or not, this pain hurts all the same.
The name my mother gave me all those years ago..
I can't bare to hear it another tomorrow.

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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Pathei Mathos
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May 22nd, 2019
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I felt you slip through my fingers,
like I was missing a few..
I felt my heart break,
and then I suddenly knew..
All this time I was looking for something..
when all I needed was you.
Hidden 4 yrs ago Post by Pathei Mathos
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May 5th, 2021


Writing Prompt: "What is the best thing about being your friend?"


The best thing about being my friend? Honestly, the way my mind works, I'd go right on ahead and say there isn't anything good about being my friend but that's just the negativity talking. The most I have to offer that most people these days don't seem to is loyalty. And unconditional love. The best part about being my friend is that you'll never have to question whether or not I'll be there for you. Thick or thin, even if we hardly know each other or even if we're in an argument... you have a problem and you need me, I'm there. Once I consider you a friend, we're family. Although these days, I don't give out second chances the way I used to. I put in 200% effort, but if you do something to betray my trust... I won't think twice about dropping you. You wanna continue the friendship, go ahead but you're the one who's gonna start putting in the effort. I don't have time for toxic people in my life, you wanna redeem yourself.. that's on you. The way I am when it comes to friendships is I try to be the type of friend that I want in my life, but unfortunately 99.9% of the time I just end up disappointed because... well, that's what people are. Disappointing.
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May 5th, 2021


Writing Prompt: "What is the best thing about being your friend?"


The best thing about being my friend? Honestly, the way my mind works, I'd go right on ahead and say there isn't anything good about being my friend but that's just the negativity talking. The most I have to offer that most people these days don't seem to is loyalty. And unconditional love. The best part about being my friend is that you'll never have to question whether or not I'll be there for you. Thick or thin, even if we hardly know each other or even if we're in an argument... you have a problem and you need me, I'm there. Once I consider you a friend, we're family. Although these days, I don't give out second chances the way I used to. I put in 200% effort, but if you do something to betray my trust... I won't think twice about dropping you. You wanna continue the friendship, go ahead but you're the one who's gonna start putting in the effort. I don't have time for toxic people in my life, you wanna redeem yourself.. that's on you. The way I am when it comes to friendships is I try to be the type of friend that I want in my life, but unfortunately 99.9% of the time I just end up disappointed because... well, that's what people are. Disappointing.


You’ll never read this, so I don’t really care.

It’s funny I wrote this four years ago. It’s crazy how I also met you four years ago and yet, here we are. No longer friends. Wouldn’t necessarily say enemies, but we’re definitely not acquaintances, either. I really was wanting to give you that second chance. I thought once, twice.. hell, thrice about it. I cried over it. Screamed into the night air over it. Because how could I have let this happen again.. AGAIN..!

You may not want to admit what we had was mutual because it would literally tear your “perfect little marriage/world” apart.. but actions speak louder than words, babe. You can deny it till the cows come home for all I care (I don’t.). All of our friends (or, I guess my friends.. since you abandoned them all too because you know how fuckin guilty you are in, not just my eyes, but theirs too..) would be willing to back me up. know I’m not guiltless. I’m almost as guilty as you are.. almost.

I can’t help but feel sorry for you. I hope you can find it in your heart to heal what’s broken in you, and you stop projecting what you can’t fix onto others. I would strongly suggest therapy, and marriage counseling. Need to focus on your marriage and your husband and stop searching for comfort and attention elsewhere.

May you get everything you deserve in this life. Do some soul searching and some work on yourself, and you’ll find your life will start to improve. Change is very beneficial, because once you stop you’ll just be stuck in that same spot of your life and never improve. You’re never too old for change.. maybe in the next life we may be friends again..: annd maybe in the next life you’ll actually appreciate what you have before you lose it.
Hidden 3 mos ago Post by Pathei Mathos
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will make the coding prettier later.. I’m on mobile.. deal with it

Complete the Story

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𝚃𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚖 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚗 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 “dickhead”. Sorry, scratch that. “A lovable dickhead.” “A piece of work.” But Malcolm didn’t care about others’ opinions of him. With being “principled”, it meant getting things done, and he knew this. That’s all that mattered.
Hidden 3 mos ago Post by Pathei Mathos
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will make the coding prettier later.. I’m on mobile.. deal with it

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𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚔𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝙾𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚗’𝚜 𝙱𝚎𝚕𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙾𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝. 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝, 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸’𝚖 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚘𝚘, 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝙸 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚝 for love and acceptance. Constantly on the search for a place to belong. Throughout the years I’ve only ever felt that once, at least since she left. To survive, I had to become a hunter. Always on the prowl. I never felt safe, and was always on the move. After him, after everything we (had) put each other through, no one seemed to compare. It’s risky business… moving on. Or rather, trying to. I find myself getting lost in the night sky, trying to desperately to remember the stories he’d tell me. If only I could, I’d play it in my head and drown everything else out just to listen to the ghost/memory of his voice in my head.
Hidden 3 mos ago Post by Pathei Mathos
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will make the coding prettier later.. I’m on mobile.. deal with it

Complete the Story

Untitled; Undated


𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚢. 𝚆𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝. 𝙼𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝. 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚘 when she’d have a problem was keep it to herself and just kind of mark it down in her mind. Dog-eared the incident and tucked it away in her mental file box for when she had a flare-up and would bring things you’d have done “wrong” in the past, even though at the time it happened she’d simply smiled and said “it’s okay”. Dad was like that, too. Wouldn’t tell you what was wrong. Hell, he wouldn’t even talk to you.
Hidden 3 mos ago Post by Pathei Mathos
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will make the coding prettier later.. I’m on mobile.. deal with it

Complete the Story

Untitled; Undated though circa 2018


𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞𝚙. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 she could feel him. Lying there beside her. He liked keeping their room like an ice box with the fan on high, even in the winter time. He hated being hot, but he always climbed under the covers with her because he knew she loved it when they cuddled each other to sleep. She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at him as he still slept. The dark hair and red beard. His licks shining a beautiful golden brown, his facial hair a fire set across his features. A tame, peaceful flame. Nevertheless, it was beautiful. His face, which was normally riddled with anxiety, pain and stress, had no remnants of his worries. His forehead wrinkles, frown lines and the bags beneath his eyes were gone. This was truly her favorite time of the day, and for her, it was a rarity. Being known as a night owl, her mornings she slept away and stayed in late, so he usually woke long before her. But not today. Normally she’d have gone back to sleep, but not this time. She would cherish this moment because she of all people knew that “all good things must come to an end”. She reached a hand out to tenderly stroke his face. As her index finger trailed down his cheek, his eyes closely opened, illuminated in the light. That smile of his that she adored so much sleepily stretched across his lips as he stretched before whispering a name. It wasn’t hers. Her own smile faded and before she could speak, everything faded out.

She’d woken up. She was back in her room, laying beside her sleeping little one. Reality slowly began to set back in. A soft sigh left her as she wrapped her arms around her baby girl, holding her tight. She had to remind herself that some old sayings could be changed. Because only “some good things must come to an end”. She at least still had one she could count on.
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