Extra

I'm not depressed but,
Sometimes I wanna stop breathing.
There is emptiness in me,
That makes me wanna stop,
Just stop being,
Just disappear,
To cease,
To sleep and never awake.
But I swear I'm not depressed.
Because most days,
Even the dying light of the day gives me life,
And the smell of coffee can fuel my hours,
But why oh why do I wanna die?

Note to self

Note to self: stop falling in love with boys who have issues liking someone else, it's just tiring. Just stop. Fucking 3 strikes hello.

Down

I know it's probably a challenge,
But not telling me anything beforehand,
Just dropping off the grid like that,
Do you think about me at all?
I see you're still alive,
But it irks me even more.
Cause honestly,
I see you with your friends and still doing what you do,
It kills me.
I don't want someone who thinks little of me,
Even if we're not together,
This is cruel,
You're cruel.
If you don't want me anymore just tell me,
I don't want to wait like this.
Let me cut you out swiftly,
Because i don't want to be the only one who wants this.
I'm tired of games.

Down

I don't need this,
To have to guess what's happening.
I don't have my shit together right now,
This isn't helping.
I respect ones boundaries and won't intrude incisively

To this

It is this,
The void.
The future.
The unknown.

It is the times I run into it just to be swallowed by it,
It is learning to dance around it but not with it,
It is a creeping movement that grows and growls.

It is this,
The fear.
The silence.
The uncertainty.

Hush.
Exhale.
Be still.
Wait.
Listen.
Decide.

Up

It scares me a lot,
How much I want this to work.
I worry if this isn't the right choice.
But i somehow think this is what it is,
To feel and to be part of,
To put my heart on a slab and pray it doesn't get smashed,
That I'll be dissected slowly and tenderly.
Because I think I'd rather risk being butchered alive than pretending this island is enough.
So hold my hands,
Send me flowers,
Show me the sting of living.
Because even if this is fleeting,
I want this.

Not meant to be

And this, this is why I think we won't work.

It's not the religion or anything petty like our differences in lifestyle or love for sport. It is not the people who flock to you and the people I choose to keep.

It is the ceiling of your life that crumbles onto your shoulders that you insist on carrying alone.

It is the flaws and creaks in the floorboard of your surroundings that make it impossible to approach without destroying.

It is the worry that grows with your thoughts and how you live your life.

It is the idea that your world is so chaotic I can't bear to have you know mine.

Because how can I love you when your heart beats for another? How can I love you if I must be the stable foundation all the time. How can I love you when you don't see anything past yourself? How can I?