Updated: Apr 26

hello! if you've stumbled across this blog for whatever reason, welcome! this is pretty much where i'll post random poetry and lyrics and other writing because sometimes people get tired of hearing me cry and/or rant to them :,)


and sometimes we have some thoughts or feelings that are a bit too personal to tell someone directly...


so naturally, i thought the most logical course of action was posting them on the internet instead!


anywhooo in the music category you can find lyrics to my original songs-- currently out now on all digital music platforms-- because idk maybe sometimes i sing and all you can make out is "i bet bfjsdbsjdgdj baby ?? fndnjfnjwjfbdjsbj forget ?" which is fair because i actually forget my own lyrics an embarrassing amount of times...


next! letters in the lyrics describes the stories or meanings behind the lyrics of my songs because they're often if not always based on real experiences but magnified (because i lack a variety of healthy coping mechanisms with 'em besides self-deprecating humour and memes) therefore! i've learned to write and turn the sadness or anger into an ~art~ i can share and maybe become #relatable. the title of the category is based on the lyric written by Maisie Peters (I love her, she's amazing, i highly recommend you listen to her music) from her song, Best I'll Ever Sing where she describes the process of writing and how "every lyric is a letter that i'll never send" and how it has this unique way of making "every moment immortalised." I think it's an absolutely beautiful masterpiece of a song that I can relate to as a songwriter and heartbroken teenage girl, crying while Maisie's emo girl pop angelic voice serenades me from my speakers <3


too honest poetry is pretty self-explanatory. sometimes i feel like some emotions are too strong and #deep to put simply and bluntly so i bury it in a metaphor that may or may not be such a reach no one would get what i'm trying to convey or so cliché that it's too shallow to truly capture my message. either way i pour my heart and soul, writing and rewriting poems to be coherent and flow and rhyme all while trying to replicate the emotions that inspired it. most of my poems lack consistent structural features, like stanzas, leaving it with a lack of organisation and excessive length that my english teachers would probably not approve of. however, i can't always help that it all just comes to me in a continuous stream of free thought, all jumbled up and confused, so i guess that just reflects my head space. i've also been inspired a lot by a girl called Stephanie Strauss (@drivestraightaheadswift & @drivestraightaheadpoems on instagram) who i've been following for a shared love of Taylor Swift and whose poetry i love. she's just published her book, Hopscotch Brain (y'all should buy and read) so that's really cool and part of the reason i've been inspired to put out my own poetry somewhere.


and back to the topic of my chaotic thought processes, bit of a ramble is where my other writing and venting and i'm-not-quite-sure-what-to-call-it will be when i can't quite get all the thoughts and feelings to fit in a poem or song.


alrighty! feel free to check in all posts if you're feeling ~adventurous~ or i guess try out making an account on here (not really sure what that does yet,,,someone be my guinea pig pls) and comment, like, or add posts into community and stuff. yeah...


anyways!

thanks so much x

-nyah rylie

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Updated: May 16



what is there to do about it?

about the flowers?

cause the shadows they’re casting on my wall in this dull grey of a sunset through my window almost made me forget for a second

and what is there to do about the fact that i still think they’re pretty?

and how it doesn’t make me feel less lonely


it’s funny cause i looked over at the pictures and papers pasted all over my walls and my first thought was “god that’s gonna take so much effort to take down”

'cause i’ll have to not too long from now

only two years

practically tomorrow

my homes are always temporary but it doesn’t take very long for me to make them feel like home

although that doesn’t stop me from leaving


i hate that i'm always observing myself

but it’s the only way i’ve learned to exist

it’s the only reason i’m not as scared as i used to be

but i wanna throw away all the clothes i wear

you can take them if you want them

i don’t want to need them anymore


i used to have a music box bigger than this, same song

it’s collecting dust on my shelf now

i don’t think it ever meant anything special to me

i don’t recall any fond memories that it makes an appearance in

i don’t remember where the stickers on it came from but they’re leaving marks

and i think i only pretend it’s sentimental

i don't remember much in general to be fair

maybe cause it’s one piece of my childhood that i know the place of

out of all the ones that got lost in the packing and moving over and over

and i want the anchor of nostalgia

but i don’t feel anything towards it at all

or anything else i’ve forgotten in boxes


and yet there is never a day that i forget the feeling of missing someone

but now we’re both miserable

are you happy now?



It’s not about the dull grey blue lighting washing the flowers that juxtaposed my finding them pretty.

It was the admittance that I still found the beauty in things

even when I wanted to die

and I’m not sure if that's a sign that maybe I don’t really want to die or if it’s a sign that perhaps it really is hopeless.

if the beauty in it all isn’t enough anymore.


Either way, there's a resignation to all of it.

Resignation.


As the first to watch this film, Victoria and her reliability for analysis found us looking for the word to convey something between acceptance and defeatism. The resignation that everything in life is fleeting. Letting go not because I'm okay with it but because I have to be.

The word didn't occur to me until 3:57am (when she had already stopped replying hours ago).


Seeing my half opened drawer overflowing with unfolded clothes out of the corner of my eye, I felt a sense of dread similar to that of glancing over at my wall of assorted papers. Do I no longer want to need the clothes in order to be seen as pretty or do I no longer want to be seen at all? I don't know which it was at the time but I do know I'm still putting off going through and sorting them.


In the end, I suppose it's that I feel the absence of people and nothing else. The hole in my unrequited dependency more than the loss of houses and objects (until I'm looking for the old books and my parent's mixtapes in the garage)


And I guess the last line is sarcastic in that it contradicts the previous statement.

But it’s also asking,

Are you better off without me? Are you happier than I am?

or are we still in this together even without the other in our life anymore?




I was meant to go out this evening. For my friend's birthday. I was all dressed up, makeup done, sitting in my best dress. And then, I was crying.

I can't even remember why. Something just set it all off and I knew immediately I was not going out dancing that night. It happens.

After sending a message to cancel (over a headache and nausea, which, to be fair, wasn't a lie on top of everything else), I sulked up to my bedroom on the top floor.

The sunset that day wasn't as warm as previous evenings so I hadn't even noticed the daylight fading. Until I was lying at the foot of the bed, parallel to my pillow, thinking a thought that didn't finish the way it started.


"What is there to do about-- ?"


And that's when I noticed the sun was setting. That's when I noticed the dead flowers above my mirror that I overlook every morning when I'm assessing my outfit of the day. And my brain autofilled the rest with its own newfound fixation. They weren't even doing anything special to catch my eye. They were only intercepting the last of the day's light to outline itself as it always does. But they distracted me so much, interrupted my pity party-- the nerve of them. And then my head just kept repeating the same phrase.


So I grabbed my camera, I opened my notes app, I started writing.


I didn't think too deeply about the meaning or the symbolism as I made it. I simply wanted to record my thoughts as they came. I'm only reflecting on it now (Sorry for tainting it with too much tangible meaning).


And so, aside from the clips of me, I filmed, edited, and recorded the entirety of the piece in that evening. It felt like writing a diary entry-- creating it that quick-- and I think it helped me process those feelings the same way journaling would-- but even more so because I had something to show for it. For once, I was able to capture how I saw the world from the space of my room-- where I spend most of my time-- and put it into visuals and sound the way that it felt to me. For once, I had something to show for the world inside my head that wouldn't usually see many visitors.


I'm a very visual person, I think-- my emotions are often linked to some sort of imagery in my head. I think it's what allows me to write songs that are sort of narrative. The main issue I've faced in my creative and personal life so far is that I never feel fully satisfied in how I convey my thoughts and feelings, because I can't present them through my own eyes. It will always go through the filter of interpretation. And even if later on, I gain the skills and means to recreate the vision in my head and supplement it through media, by that point it's also been worn down by the nature of memory and the way I don't tend to be able to grasp much from moment to moment.


But I think with this, I may be able to get a hang of it.

And Willem, I'm sorry I missed your birthday.

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We used to talk about just how much it would kill if either found someone new

But can we just talk bout how for one of us that fear’s already come true


I should expect all broken promises

I shouldn’t ask so many questions

I should’ve long past learned my lesson by now


She’s got dimples and a beautiful smile

And she’s got caramel skin and honey pool eyes

I just think that it’s ironic that I ended up right

When I prayed not to be this time

Cause she’s always been there when I couldn’t be

And I really want to hate her but she’s been nice to me

I bet that she is everything that I’ll never be 

Oh she, she’s the one that’s got you, not me


And last time we talked you told me how much it would kill you if I found someone new

Like we didn’t talk bout how mine’s the one fear that’s already come true 


I should’ve seen this whole thing coming

I should’ve given up on hoping 

I shouldn’t still feel so broken by now


She’s got dimples and a beautiful smile

And she’s got caramel skin and honey pool eyes

I just think that it’s ironic that I ended up right

When I prayed not to be this time

Cause she’s always been there when I couldn’t be

And I really want to hate her but she’s been nice to me

I bet that she is everything that I’ll never be 

Oh she, she’s the one that’s got you, not me


And I bet she wears your t-shirts

And I bet you’re falling for her fast

And I bet she does it better

And I’m just the past


She’s got dimples and a beautiful smile

And where I’ve done it all wrong she’s done it right

I bet that she is everything that you wanna see

Oh she

She’s the one you let in when you stopped letting me

And I swear that I hate her but I just hate me

Cause I know that she is everything that I couldn’t 

be

Oh she, she’s the one that you want, not me

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