that somewhere, deep down or reigning high above me—someone was looking after me.

with hands gently holding mine, and eyes filled with nothing but a pure admiration.

I wonder if the spirits hear my cries in the endless nights, or if my broken screams echo at their doorsteps.

maybe the winged creatures know nothing of me, maybe my name is merely one within thousands. a random soul intertwined with all the others they spare no interest for.

the angels intrigue me though, it seems as I stare at the dawning sky—all I see is a world beyond.

invisible strings ruled by the mighty puppet masters, their bones guiding mine through life without fear or condemnation.

I should grow comforted by their existence, find solace in the way they care, without care at all.

I hear their melodies call to me in the late hours, hypnotised by lyrics I will never comprehend.

I find them in the moonshine, and the shadows of constellations. I listen to their laws through the crashing of ocean waves, and the cracks of zeus’ rods.

solely interconnected to the ground I stand upon, seeking understanding in a planet so stripped of relation.

as I stand at my balcony, hair knotting itself through the wind’s gentle force—the world had never been so quiet.

my eyes dried with tears, bags grown weary and tainted with lavender hues.

faded smile lines from a joyless heart, and sun-deprived spots across my cheeks from self-isolation.

ribs lined with hollow fat, the remnants of the girl who I once was and who I’ve become on an empty stomach.

thighs sticky and scarred from the child who drew depictions of pain in blood, with puberty blemishes upon my face, bolded in a revolting red—reminding me of the youth I used to die with.

the crusted knuckles of my shaken hands that were held by foes I’ve grown to lose. ones who still keep my heart next to theirs but let me sink in the sorrow of my mind.

I stare up at the moon, a worldly structure I’ve been drawn to since birth—I could spend hours looking at them.

stars encircled around her glow, but never daring to linger too close—as if her radiance held frozen secrets balls of fire could not handle.

she stands alone, partly.

her world entirely independent, but dependent on the earth’s cycles.

a force to be reckoned with, but only one seen in passing.

the sun’s grand size hides her from society, loses her place as the day emerges—where tired eyes open once again after her ritualistic departure.

there’s a peace in solitude, a feeling I experience solely with the moon and various earthly walkers.

I love her, the moon. her grace, her tranquility in a world permanently disturbed.

she speaks to my soul, a moment that erases time.

lines blur, memories fade, thoughts linger but only the most melancholy. all that's gone returns in spirit before her gentle presence.

I don't know how to to describe who I am.

that's the reality I face everyday.

but.

when I stand before the moon, leaving the sun’s condition for the following morning, when all I feel is the wispy air deliberately circling me—all I know is nothing, and everything at all.

like no tongue can deliver the message blaring in bold within my thoughts, but in a way, it doesn’t matter.

the world has never been smaller in the presence of the unknown.

the cold nights trickled with the sky’s tears, the soft glow of the evening’s ruler, the warmth of a passing light, the endless quiet that is not silent—but right.

the unknown becomes known when our vocal cords strain.

none of it matters, the words linger in neutral.

what matters to you?

Depending on the hour, you love me or you don’t.

Some days are filled with constant praise, and I wonder how I could know anything else—until you open your mouth again.

When a simple question from me laces your words in menace and shoots venom from your tongue.

I wonder what I really did wrong—I think I'm just not who you want me to be.

I tell you worries, fears, troubles, and you do nothing but turn them against me.

I want to be better, I work for that.

You want me to be better and hope those few words heals the irreversible scars you reopen.

I don’t know when my existence troubled you, when the thought of me beside you felt beyond disgusting.

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

Those three words on replay.

I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

I don’t know who you are anymore, and I never knew who I was—because my whole identity has always been yours. A world state manipulation from Ford’s divine intervention, you became my God.

My heart attuned to your organ’s beats.

My mind inclined to your opinionated truths.

My being designed for you, and only you.

For god forbid, I be anyone elses.

How dare a narrative of growing up and discovering one’s self is nothing but a wrongful duty I never quite deserved.

It takes from me, you take from me.

Again and again, and it never stops.

You heal my heart with your gentle words, then rip them out again by my organ’s strings.

You tie my veins round my wrist, and sculpt me to match your own missed fortune.

Mother knows best, mother knows best, so who I am to disobey.

Who could I possibly be without that writhing voice ordering me to follow mommy’s laws.

I wonder if in any world I am not a product of your anger, if there is a universe where we are the duo you always dreamed of.

But even as you wish away me, staring into the rotting wealth ceiling—it shows nothing but your married money, the means to an end and a vengeance for a reputation, the ideal for a love you were given once and threw away too soon.

I love you mum, I really do—and maybe that’s what kills me.

Maybe as I held the knife to my throat, its blade fell to my wrist only for your sake.

So the world wouldn’t have to know you failed.

You try so hard to fix our relationship, yet you destroy it every night.

Your mood shifts and changes at every ticking minute.

Smiles paint your face as you greet the crowds, but its fall is immediate, imminent.

I wanted to be better, wanted to be the daughter you could show off to crowds without an underlying grimace embedded in your pearly whites.

I wanted to be someone beautiful, intelligent.

A daughter with cleared skin, flawless features.

Adorned with flowing, glowing hair you could insist is your genes.

A girl stood with the slimmest of bodies, with a waist suitable for any design.

A picture-perfect silhouette you can look at and wonder, think of your days before treatment and shame your own body before me, ignoring any cry for help by the protrusion of my lungs.

I wanted to be smart, to have a dialect so vast and knowledgeable that a sentence of mine could tear down the world.

Instead, my work is false, artificial displays that provide nothing but a useless coffin.

My voice holds no power, nothing but rhymes and poetic rants on the internet’s darkest holes.

But you wouldn’t know that, no part of you would care to know that.

You care solely for an image, an image of me that never was me.

You see the girl who avoids a long conversation nearing the end of the night, or the girl who slightly turns her head at your targeted public outbursts–making me feel as though I was the problem.

The one whose fear can’t help but come off blunt, or her anger at her ignored patience.

The one who cries in her own blood, whose avoidment issues get misunderstood in the face of your precious ego.

But you don’t see the girl who silences her tears, so I wouldn’t annoy you.

You don't see the girl who gets called kind on a daily basis, or the girl who stands up for you when others discriminate against you.

You don’t see the girl who loves art, philosophy, writing, thinking and exploring.

The girl who sees the world not just through the lens of a mere human, but a spirit seeing the world for what it is.

The girl who turns a blind eye to industrialisation, and finds peace in God’s humble creations.

From the way the trees, of all kinds, tower over, carving effortless shadows against the earth’s ground.

To the way the sun’s position paints the sky in an array of different colours, and beautiful paintings no human hand could replicate.

Or even to the way a human mind thinks, the thoughts and experiences that shape everyone of us.

Despite it all, I could never hate you.

Because, whether I like it or not—I see you.

I see you try, I see your guilt, I see the good, and the bad I have to face.

You aren’t all bad, and maybe I should write you something about how much I love you, because I do.

I really do, but it’s hard.

It’s hard when my life seems of a nuisance to yours, and that whatever exception I had as a child has dissipated before my eyes and left me to be no one but a hollow frame.

I don't understand you, I don't think I ever will. I don't think my heart will ever comprehend the gaps you avoid between us. 

I miss you mum, I miss who we used to be. 

I miss the nightly talks that healed the parts of me you accidentally broke, and watched you give yourself to put me back together.

I miss that honeymoon feeling, the moments after the glory and before the fall.

The period I thought everything would be okay again, the time where the world felt so quiet.

where nothing else mattered inside your soundproof arms, the ones that held me so gently, softly.

the ones who didn't care how I lived, as long as it was beside you and the holiest one.

now my life seems eternally separated from yours, and my soul seems rejected from the godliest.

the one who saw me struggles, didn't judge me, or shame me, for being a human.

but now im no longer a blessing, but a disappointment, forever exceeding your expectations in the most disappointing of ways. 

I'm a failed child, you failed me, as you say.

So go ahead, celebrate the other children and leave me in my room like you always do.

Bond with the straight ones, celebrate a stolen glance from the opposite gender and degrade the gentlest love I have ever received.

If only you knew mother, knew the love I feel. To see the kindest beyond your sin-shaded glasses, homophobia sheltered by the prospect of religion.

Sinner.

Wrong.

Disappointed. 

Tell me again, don't be afraid.

Don’t hide behind your fame-seeking smile, and look me in my eyes once again.

Recognise your own daughter, cause the only one who has changed is you.

You didn't fail as a parent because you didn't validate or provide me with enough, cause you ensured that.

For that reason solely, I could never hate you and never will.

but you failed me, because your love was conditional.

Is conditional.

You failed me because the second I swayed beyond your set lines for me, I became someone I will never be in your eyes.

My brother and sister, laced with invisible anger, we have always seen. 

Their kindness is true, their goodness is there, I know. 

Hence why their existence has never been questioned or perceived as disappointing. 

Their mistakes are human, human mistakes.

Even when my sister’s screams cut daggers to my heart, leaving me alone in my room once again trying to calm my busy mind, to quiet the intrusive thoughts. 

To still my shaking legs, and return oxygen to the very lungs you made.

Or when my brother’s playful hits, land instinctive flinches to my body. With unapologetic insults, that seep into my brain and poison my empty heart. 

You don't seem to mind that.

Blame it on growing up, behavioural changes.

“They will come around.”

“It’s just the teenage phase.”

But me?

A healthy love is where you draw the line, an interest in the recognition you never thought to let me receive is where you draw the line.

Then, fuck it all.

Take your lines, hold them tightly and wish I was only a step beyond them, but know I will never return.

I'll cross every line, until I'm somewhere new, someone new. 

I’ll leave, pack my bags, and let my heart swallow itself, knowing even if I stayed, you would never fill my heart.

Not anywhere near to what it was.

I want to die mother.

You know, you make me want to die.

You fuel the part that I fought to heal on my own, without your help.

Without a single hand holding mine and pulling me beyond my self-dug grave.

I did that.

I did that by myself, before you even thought to notice the illuminated signs. 

It wasn't that hard.

Although, when you did see. When you saw the scars, the pain I held carved into my porcelain skin.

You chose anger.

You choose anger.

Again and Again.

Don’t you see?

You turn the pain onto you.

My pain into an attack on you.

“You cut yourself, so you hate me?”

Shut the fuck up.

“You want this, so I failed as a parent.”

I want recognition, mother, if you can see that–why won't you give it to me?

“You fell in love, God I messed up. This is wrong. A sin, I should’ve seen this.”

Sorry I found a love better than you ever had, sorry I chose a woman whose minimum is your husband’s maximum.

Sorry, should I apologise again? Or did you want to yell at me?

I’ll wait, god forbid I had an opinion.

Maybe I should slice my wrist again, and have them forced into your sight.

This time, I won’t miss.

I’ll aim right at the vein, and never look back again.

Never feel the guilt of stealing your “beloved” daughter from you, maybe you will love me then.

Maybe you will recognise me then.

Maybe the coat of my blood will clear your vision and heal you from the blindness against your middle child.

But knowing me, I’ll likely stay.

Not because the knife is too “scary”, but because I know you would be holding it.

Waving it in front of me, digging it further into my heart, but not far enough that it will kill me. 

Just enough that you can stare at the scars on my chest, and call it parenting when your name is engraved against my ribs.

Reminding me of the ‘gift’ of breathing, that you gave up your life for.

Take my breath mother, take my heart and reconstruct it to match yours.

Disease my veins, and pull my heartstrings as though I was a puppet.

And you, mother, are my dear puppetmaster.

Cause who I am if you aren’t in control.

God. Mum, I love you so much.

Why did you lock away my heart and make your approval the key?

If that is the antidote, I will never be cured.

And my heart will stay there, for the rest of my days.

haven't picked up a pen in any spiritual form.

haven’t faced the feelings that fall farther beneath the surface.

I don't want to face them.

the pain, the remembering.

the reminder that, deep down, something will always be wrong with me and there is nothing to do about it.

I feel it alert me after a long day, after my feet have longed for unreceived rest.

where they find solace with the cheap heated blanket that warms the winter nights.

the constant shivering from a malnourished body, or a ‘healthy’ body in the eyes of an eating disorder.

every day is no different.

only varies from a never-ending, to days that just erase the concept of time itself.

my eyes growing nothing but weary.

a continuous ache lining it's insides, begging me to let them fall shut.

and hope they never open again, even when tomorrow feels brighter.

the emptiness never goes away.

never leaves me.

hollows me out in the early AMs, and leaves me racked with a level of exhaustion I've never felt in the beginning of an after noon.

it feels like my life has been stolen from me.

that somehow I have never been so loved and hated all at the same time.

the sweet messages from my girlfriend who reminds me that she always cares, even if it's lands on my home screen after 10pm.

the disgusted look from my mum at the mention of who I love, and the constant preach of my ‘sinful behaviour’ and how I shall never peacefully for in-between religion and queerness.

at least not in this lifetime, hopefully God provides me another one.

but that's unlikely.

the easy praise received from friends whom label me again and again as a walking source of kindness, the definition of ‘nice’.

though the same friends that I've known for less than a year, that I don't think will ever quite comprehend the real me.

if I can even understand myself.

it's not that I blame them.

I try and I try, yet always fall forever short.

I’d want to die, but that is just the simplest way out.

I don't actually want to die.

I did.

but im different now.

right?

who am I?

who am I supposed to be?

who?

I don't know.

I really don't know.

im just tired.

fated with eternal fatigue, stacking medical bills to account for the supply of gummies and pills to let me head rest.

to silence the deafening emptiness.

the endless humming of nothing.

god, I used to be smart.

top of classes, handed medals like it was breakfast.

it was nice.

I was recognised for the talent I could've been.

and that was all I had.

now?

im tied to a metal framed bed, my long hair constantly hooking itself within the structure.

phone in hand, scrolling to the beat of my heartbeat—lifelines that keep me going.

another hand down my pants, spreading the guilt across my thighs.

a ritual I've found no bit enjoyable but somehow forced it into routine.

I guess I will always be a puppet.

controlled by the twisted instability of my mind.

fucking hell I am so tired.

exhausted.

but this fatigue is no cause of sleep, even though I seem to receive none.

it's something else entirely.

something not even I can decipher.

but I know it never goes away.

day and night, it recks me.

this pain is too much, but still cannot locate its source.

I don't know what to do.

I really don't know.

nor did I ever expect it to be.

despite the millions of words this world holds in thousands of different dialects, not one can explain how I feel for you.

a skillfully sharpened, and delicately designed weapon.

one destined to make me bleed at the glint of its blade.

im not the best writer, I have to admit.

although, my love, is one that never faults.

for even as the crimson within me spikks on the very ground we first met, I would seem every drop—worth it.

for you are worth every breath, even if it becomes my last.

I love you, if that wasn't already obvious.

I'm not oblivious to the way I stare at you, or how I pull you in like no other.

I can't withhold the loving words that leave my human tongue.

I can't help but love you, like no other.

with you, I see colours.

shades I never understood, until I met you.

saw you with smiles that echo such sweet laughter, and eyes brimmed with hidden tears—ones I fear to wipe.

you are ineffable.

I can't even explain.

you are my favourite storm, even when you strike me down.

you are my only worthy memory, and I would spend eternity rewatching you.

you are my oak tree, breathing me back to life.

you are my stage, even if I crumble—you won't change.

you are the only page in my book worth writing.

recently, you asked me to write about you.

a simple ‘yes’ was sufficient, but little did you know every used-up pen, filled book of written confessions, unsent letter, all share one thing in common.

you.

your name, your soul in my eyes spread across a5 pages.

the way I see you outlined across every flimsy paper.

where that leads me now, I don't know.

even as I write this, letting my heartbeat control the pen, I'm left with a sole poem.

syllables still not proclaimed.

I feel guilt, a disgust with myself for liking loving you the way I do.

every time I look into your sea-green eyes, I can't help but be swallowed by their waves.

drowned silently in the words I can't say.

I hate this, I hate feeling this way. I hate keeping this secret as the sin it apparently is. I hate running for miles, then sprinting twice as fast back—for I could never leave you like that.

I hate not being brave, honest. I hate the way I can't help but stare at you as though you were God. I hate how quick I am to add to the fire burning away in my heart. I hate the way I can't get you off my mind.

sometimes, I hate myself for it, but love.

oh love, how I could never hate you.

you love me too, I even know that.

the difference though is painfully obvious, you love me in a simple way.

platonic.

friends fated to withstand eternity, and beyond.

I love you too, I mean of course I do.

who wouldn't, but I need more.

I need to feel tour skin against mine, not in a sexual way, simply an intimacy no one else shared.

a touch like any other, but brought to life with a connection none other could have.

a glance in crowded rooms, that speak a thousand words.

a love ours.

one that doesn't protrude, or stand out in the neighbouring chaos.

although, once you see you it.

you can never unsee it.

I want to be your first love, even if I don't deserve it.

I would want any other to be mine.

even if you tear me apart, rip me into millions of little pieces.

even if you shatter my heart beyond repair, that I may never be able to love the same again— I would choose you again and again, without even a second of hesitation.

but, I'd rather die than make you uncomfortable, or to hurt you.

even if you bear the slightest of a graze as you dig your perfect dagger into my heart, I would accept that fate.

let it drain every last bit of life out of me.

nameless lover, redacted soul.

I'm sorry.

you call me your ‘favourite friend’, ‘best friend’, im sorry I want you as a lover.

“Thanks for being my colour then.”

“It is my honour to be your colour. You are mine too.”

“I couldn't be more proud to be yours.”

- 12/11/2025, 10:17pm

someone asked me this recently.

it made me wonder, are we all just products of the lessons we were forced to learn from?

even as far to ask, would I still be me if I was never friends with that one being? or left on that same street?

when I passed that stranger? or watched that film?

or is it deeper?

like, would I still be who I am now if I never felt grief? heartbreak?

would I still love so boundless, if I had received equally shared love before?

would I still be creative, if I was forced into a career of black and white clothes?

would I still hide my tears, if I was never told I was too much?

would I still conceal my thoughts, if I sat in another room?

the truth is, probably not.

we all wonder why things happen, why any creator would permit such awful times?

although, the answer still remains the same.

everything happens for a reason.

because, no.

I would never be even half the person I am today if I was never suffering.

that pain I felt so vividly, is just a lesson I had to learn.

I may not have even laid on the earth for two decades, but my mind is beyond my years.

and despite the unexplainable guilt and anguish I felt so clearly, I wouldn’t be here without out.

I care and think so deeply, because I was forced to learn to.

the biggest misconception is that it’s easy to just accept this— spolier, it’s not.

my heart is twisting itself in knots, and pulling at the strings trying to provoke me.

and it does, it works—every single time.

that who I am, I mean, would life still have the same meaning if it held no suffering.

would the intimacy of a silent tear still be anything if there was no emotion behind it?

would a gesture of holding another’s hand prove to be worthless if there was no love pulsing through our intertwined limbs?

would a shared smile simply be a turn of lips?

no, it wouldn’t.

things would be singular, the same.

nothing changes, nothing worth staying around for.

being human, it hurts.

every single one of us have felt it.

experienced the same feeling in our own unique ways, and maybe that’s bad.

maybe I’m just stupid for searching for more where there clearly wasn’t any to begin with.

over glitchy calls, I failed to hide this love for you.

yet again.

each day that passes, holding on seems harder to sustain.

I want to feel that it’s wrong, that somehow I am a sinner never to be forgiven for this affection.

but that's impossible, when you are just too..right.

I think about us, all the time.

what we are, what we can be, but what will inevitably be left unsaid.

series of words loss in the passage of time.

knowing these words will never reach beyond my lips.

ones I would give anything to touch yours.

I love you.

I say those syllables as if this is a new revelation.

we both know, it isn't.

the thousands of times I screamed your name into the night, or the countless calls than ended in those same three words.

you even said it too, you said it so casually that it managed to dig me further into my prepared grave.

im trying, I really am, to write about something else.

someone else, but I can't.

I keep promising myself in every one of these essays I leave scattered on this digital app, that im over you.

that overnight, the love I have carefully nurtured to life over the years, is suddenly gone.

non-existent.

frankly, that is one of the biggest lies I have ever told.

call me crazy, but I can't move past us.

I always thought my observations and detection skills were up to par, but as I look into your eyes.

suddenly, my vision is gone.

my 20/20 verdicts seems to blur beyond saving.

the truth? I genuinely can't decipher if my love is returned by you.

part of me wonders if I disgust you, that when you figure it all, if you haven't already, is that you will hate me.

sever our communication, leave me to fight the darkness of this world never getting to see you grow.

it kills me.

maybe this is why all these confessions, will never reach beyond this app.

for I would rather let this hiding kill me than living a life without you.

I wish I could just read your mind, but I can't.

and honestly, maybe I would just be too scared to know the truth.

I don't know.

at this point im just rambling, and heart is all worn out.

I need to move on.

or take the risk.

im not sure.

but im sure about you, and I don't think that'll ever change.

each night, every passing minute, I spend quietly wishing this life away.

to end my existence with meaning, before I lose it all.

I wonder how other people feel.

questioning how even on the darkest of days, their faces are still lit up with sparkling smiles.

ones that make you grin too.

they make it seem so effortless, so carefree.

then, why can't I do that?

when the world gets too much, I stare sullenly.

letting silence become my vocabulary, for even a peep is enough to make me ill.

speaking feels nothing more than a chore.

it makes me think, would anyone notice if I just stopped talking?

would I simply blend in?

my thoughts, my mind — despite being as powerful as they are, would they serve no place?

my words would be forgotten as quickly as I will.

and this pain, it would never go away.

forever, this would be final.

for the pain never stops.

it takes something from a person.

it took it from me forever.

even if I overcome this grief.

even as my wounds begin to heal.

there will always be the scars of what once was.

that whenever I find joy, become someone again.

I can’t help but remember these times.

knowing as I stare at old pictures of who I once was, and will never be again, I understand I can never see the world as I once saw it.

can never return to a true sense of joy, after enduring it all.

it makes me wonder if, in some ways, ending it now would be okay.

and I know that's graphic, but truly?

it might kill me just to get back up again, so really?

is it even worth it?

each night that passes, I look to the people around me.

recognising, as much as I love them, they won't love me.

none even attempting to understand the impossible, me.

I stand by a simple quote;

“we live this life not to be understood, but to understand ourselves.”

it struck me like a chord, begged me to consider myself.

though, that leads back to the start.

if I am not to be understood, but not even grasped by my own being.

I can’t even fathom who I am.

I've spend years, and years searching for an answer I have no idea of.

that even as I scour the internet, I am yet to find something that fits.

that explains my existence, and it's overall purpose.

it's a hopeless pursuit.

one destined for a hopeless soul.

one like me, and I wonder it it’s yours too.

that despite all this suffering, pain, grief.

someone else out there understands me.

not in a direct or straightforward way, strangers scattered within the screen will not fathom me as a human being.

although, as a soul, perhaps we all understand one another more than we think.

maybe, that’s why we all act irrationally.

we hate how much people get us, and it kills us.

we detest the fact we can’t hate someone entirely, because we can understand their human paths.

at least that’s what I think.

and maybe, as a human, or as another soul— you understand? or not?

and either is okay.

cause frankly, I am not whole.

nor am I okay.

I want to die sometimes, because it takes me from my body.

one engraved with the title of human.

but, being a human is…

painful.

infuriating.

revolting.

nostalgic.

otherworldly.

the list goes on and on.

it never really stops, humanity just keeps surprising us.

I hate that I’m human, that I stand marked by a name used wrong by so many.

although, sometimes— I feel different.

like if some parallel universe existed, I’d enjoy my humility.

the way we care, connect.

seeing people stop to help, to hear to laughter slip from stranger’s lips.

to feel the tenderness of equally shared love, or even the realness of grief.

the pain in understanding.

yet, the peace.

the deafening silence.

I think, even if I left this world—I’d miss it.

would never grasp the idea of life. simply living a scripted motion picture, feeling nothing but the writers best cuts.

never considering my own story.

to let my realness, and vulnerability connect me to the others surrounding me.

it feels impossible.

though just moments ago, I claimed it was otherworldly, hopeless to even dream.

now, in some strange way, I think I understand.

not who I am, not my entire life before and to come.

but, to feel.

to fathom my existence.

understand my deserving of being loved.

striving to become someone.

above all else, to be human.

the thought is one of a dream.

not one I long to live in, but one I reside in.

one I haven’t found the courage to leave.

I’m not claiming this dream doesn’t sting, that remnants of nightmares still linger.

but, in some ways. this is easier.

being as sick as I am right now, it is simple to understand I don’t have much health left.

that all the hope I once held on to, is slowly fading with my life.

it seems, whenever I look at where I am. I see a way out.

one so much closer than life.

both exits are there.

no barriers.

just two paths.

parallel, undivided.

I can feel the escape of death, slowly grasping that it will never end.

death doesn’t stop at life, even if I reach the far end.

death is still here.

is it really a way out?

though death?

it succeeds life itself, from the moment I tread past that line.

I will never know life again.

death will be all I know.

I won’t need to get back up, the decision is final.

I don’t have to please anyone, don’t need to suck up to the reaper’s voice.

for he had already taken mine.

it’s simple.

isn’t it?

easier.

but is it?

the path is long, exhausting.

I’ve already spent every breath running to bring others to life again.

saving them, returning them from their own tunnels.

unknowingly sacrificing me to my own.

I thought I was okay.

that it was simple.

easy.

why can’t it be easy?

I want to live, is that so hard to believe?

but it’s too far.

I’m dried up, all joy has left.

suffering in eternal darkness.

maybe, I should return to hell.

I don’t believe it would be any different.

and hell, that’s a topic.

even as a believer, I’ve been led to believe if I die at my own hand.

I will never be in the presence of my creator.

simply, at the hand of the devil.

once again.

see? easy.

as I scream this confession into the crowded abyss, I hope one hears.

even if I am never heard.

only a ghost in passing.

my poems will lie written in historical records, explaining those lost in the sick.

a sickness that affects nothing but the head and heart.

no cure.

it has not even a trace.

simply, it is at the hand of its owner.

I wonder if I’ll be seen as weak, for facing a sickness many have endured.

even if I lose breath to it.

its just easier.

despite wanting more.

if I start walking, even running.

I know I'll be back to where I lie now.

its been this way since I first saw light.

gained consciousness, and attempted to fathom this world’s cruelty.

it never stops.

black and white.

life and death.

easy?

isn’t it?

it’s strange, I have to admit.

this period of time, a moment lingering in between.

it doesn’t end, the path goes on and on. never a string of hope, no light leading to an unknown abyss.

but. I’m too far in.

as much as I’d dream to wander back, to rest at the beginning of this endless tunnel. I cant.

I will never be that girl again.

and it kills me.

at times, I wonder that if I just stay here forever then it will be okay. I will be okay.

though, I wont.

I will die, alone and lost in an foreign world.

forever considering where I would be now, if I had just kept walking.

but it hurts.

so fucking bad.

I want to move on, I want to exist beyond the very walls I built.

although, every step I try and take builds an unbearable pressure.

pushing me back, the world giving me the death sentence.

die, they say.

stay here, for that is all I’m good for.

I was born nothing, and born to be nothing.

plaster a smile at the last breath, that my corpse will not be detected.

that those who pass by will turn blind to the pain, be grateful I died a joyous end.

be someone else in my last days.

that I won’t cause a scene, even as I pass this scene.

as I collapse to the ground, looking towards the endless walls.

noticing every unmissable detail.

the freshness of where i lie, the roughness of the places I had already passed.

feeling a tinge of heat, when before I’d felt as cold as ice.

taking in the fact that even as I tread on knives, leaving bloodied trails.

I had already been bled dry.

the pain, it won’t end.

not now anyway.

I cant expect to turn a corner, and find lost atlantis.

that no matter how far detached I find myself, I’ll never be anyone else then where I am now.

constant fantasies, thin strings of hope. these will never bring me there.

I will never be home in the devil's hands.

so, what can I do?

keep walking.

the tips of daggers will one day have no more flesh to pierce.

the cold will one day have no place in the presence of the scorching sun.

the strings of hope will one day tie me in knots, ones that will help pull me out.

at some point, the walls will thin.

the noise will finally return.

even if it deafens me, ill be grateful to hear once again.

one day, id hope to see the end.

a imperfect paradise, written by my name.

that in this house, I will find a home.

one for me, and only me.

an earnt haven.

not free from grief, for that would be death.

but one real.

human.

a path that grounds me.

one that still has a switch on the darkest nights.

so I can live.

look back on where I was, to understand that I survived.

that I ached for something eternal to take me.

the irreversible deed.

though was forced, for good, to find another eternity.

for I was something.

someone.

worth the scene of a final breath.

to consume delicacies crafted by countless hands, echoes of tales told in voices I may never know.

perhaps, by the taste you produce what has been left unsaid will emerge.

even the accents you conceal, the intricate layers displayed.

a thorough process of what now lies before me, for one to indulge in.

given permission to strangers, bodies you pass daily.

it’s a price, to put yourself out there.

surrender to unfamiliar faces, pray that they’ll shed mercy.

to splatter your guts across stringed symbols, feast on the unpredictability.

for that is all this world provides.

an undoubtedly indifference, to danger itself.

a chaos created behind the back of a god.

a puppeteer’s cut string, observing his strayed puppets.

you and me.

I see you protruding your recipes into my soul, forcing a inexplicable sense of knowing.

engraving a new method across my tongue, reworking one’s initial perception.

you claim my tastebud, accompanying yourself to thousands before you.

clashing, duelling any former owner. marking me as one of your own.

though, you don’t even know me.

do I even really know you?

as I collapse to your ways, views. the flavours you can exude erase whatever lied, capturing my mind in a single mouthful.

consumed me in a swift motion.

the question lingers, is the meal served a filtration of you, or entirely vulnerable?

do you trust me?

can I trust you?

maybe you poison me with traces of false proclaims, littering your ill guided ways into my being.

unknowingly serving me a diamond encrusted platter, to have the attention turned to me.

betraying the reliance of nurturing, i’d hope you’d provide.

begging that same God, the one we shamed and sheltered from — that he would spare mercy.

that his words would heal everything wrong with me, and when he stood silenced.

I found you.

your words, your assembled buffets.

embraced them like home cooked meals, nostalgia served on a plate.

glutonized each bite, craving more, and more.

fueled, though never satisfied.

restored, in restlessness.

I yearned for truths, though pleading for their ignorance.

searching in every crevice, longing for phrases that define me.

to reassure the faceless voices in my head, that im not alone.

that somewhere, anywhere — another soul, person is awaiting my arrival.

patiently remaining until I stand before them, rest upon a insignificant chair. tasting glimpses of recognition, relation in every marinated crumb.

or perhaps, I await the day you become a customer of mine.

for another to devour my entrees like air, inhale each tainted portions. implanting remnants of my mind, alone beside yours eternally.

a declaration of understanding, served as soliloquys.

was this ever about food?

yes, my heart is weeping through your absence. but, it’s learning.

holding out for the worthwhile moments, the glimpses of an affectionate eternity. whether romantic, or not.

and in some ways, that stings. for I know more than anything else, I’d dream for these thoughts to meet reality.

though, maybe you here is enough.

that despite it all, this love of mine will never conclude. so I’ll wait, savour every moment we spend together.

a few days ago, I saw you again.

it felt as though something switched in me, as you called me over.

we spent every spare moment together, blowing off our friends.

you dared me, made me pretend we were together.

your suggestion, and darling, I played along living in a dream.

did that mean something?

or like usual, is it something friends do?

we took photos together, bonded and shared secrets over chilled chips.

laid out on park benches, we joked about the onlookers. watching them walk by, considering the life they may live.

you stared, I did too.

I sensed a heavy heart, perhaps I mistook it for mine.

regardless, we moved past.

again we joined each other hours later, appeared before another foe.

performed our scripts, leaning a little closer.

I warmed your freezing hands by the flickering flames, comforting your restless gaze.

letting myself soak in the softly spun melodies, as you curled closer.

we enjoyed various treats, whilst you complimented my hair. expressing its perfection was your least favourite quality of mine, in a late-night game of truth.

I slept in your hoodie, as you rested in mine.

stolen glances across the room, aching in each averted glimpse.

the night rolled in, and we kept the ploy up.

though, why did it feel so natural?

stayed up confessing stupid tales, eventually surrendering to the midnight lure.

as the sun began to shine, I saw you breathe ever so softly. the sunlight painted a photograph so perfect, as though it was a gift from heaven itself.

later on, we exchanged our scented hoodies and made our way to the shopping centre.

you remained mute, racked with a feeling I could not decipher.

I indulged in the conversation of a mutual friend as we strolled the halls. picking out your favourite delicacies, and glancing at the books you love.

eventually, the evening came. the time to say goodbye emerged. simply, it was an insignificant departure given a meetup was planned for the next day.

so I hugged you tight, ready to embrace again.

though, you lied.

the neighbouring day arose, and you broke the news. you had to depart early.

the group chat blew up with heartfelt cries, and capitalised poems.

marking it as read, I turned up the noise of my headphones.

racked with a grief, I'd wish to extinguish.

only to receive another message, one from you.

“can I come by to say goodbye?”

a heartbeat. why, me?

specifically, solely for me.

that afternoon, I greeted her at the door.

ten minutes being all we had to spare.

you had your hair cut. It was shorter, lighter, more..you.

you were breathtaking.

we sat on the couch, and I attempted to conceal my nerves.

you told me you wish you had the courage to talk to our mutuals, like you communicate with me.

I reassured her, it will take time.

we talked, joked.

but for a moment there, we just stared.

gazed into each other's eyes, complete silence.

no awkwardness, no shame.

just two hearts, potentially aligned.

though, like all good things do. it stopped there.

we noticed the time, and you suggested to move on.

your eyes grew glassy, driving the dagger further into my heart.

I walked you out, stopped by the brick paths.

I pulled you in, wrapped my arms around your neck. slightly forced to my tiptoes, yours around my waist. head pressed in the crook of my neck, hearing your muffled sobs.

oh, if I could stay here.

minutes passed, as I clung.

only then, you took off. leaving stains on my skin, dissolving the warmth I'd decided was a solace.

I waved to your little brother from the car, as you walked to the front seat. looking back.

I stepped away, internally begging you would never leave.

but you did.

and, that was the end of our story.

nothing more, nothing less.

no sober confessions, or intrusive kisses.

just series of stolen glances, that might have been one-sided.

only my eyes staring, awaiting yours.

so, not that I have any experience, but. love stories, aren't terrible?

if that is what you would even call all this.

I am yet to have a day, without you framed gold in my thoughts.

given my love seems only to grow.

although, I’m learning. recognising that might be ok, that you will never be insignificant.

so, the least I can do is see the worthiness. to open up the opportunities, move on without destroying us.

for, you will always be enough.

no matter who you are to me.

you are here, and I will remain forever if you please.

this is all I need.

sincerely, your nameless lover.

I've known you for years, loved you in each one. I wish upon your affection, at every shot star and dwindling daffodils. 

in exactly one week, I will stand before you once again. eye to eye, transfixed gazes. the thought of you litters my insides, ties them in knots. 

maybe you will embrace me, pull me within your grasp and beg me to stay like you did long ago. 

I'll lay smothered by your love, knowing it will never match mine. 

among all the letters I have written, I resist sending them to you. for all I want is you. 

every night, my heart screams for yours. to hear that precious voice, and indulge in your impeccable persona. to fall in love with you, all over again. 

I sense this love may be unlike the others, that I will ache eternally by the absence of you. forever, I may live with a throbbing heart. 

tonight, your name will echo in the depths of the night as I profess another hopeless sonnet destined to you. my chords vibrate within the soiled grounds, as I pray. beg that they may reach you.

for even if the note reads anonymous, at least you may rest knowing one loved you entirely. that without a doubt, you were the girl that haunted my narrative.

In every crowded room, you will wonder. question if the author stands before you, breathing in your sweet scent. maybe you will grow curious, turn to every foe you once knew. plead for an answer, without revealing a vowel. 

read between the desperate lines, analysing each phrase. examining the experiences, interrogating each onlooker. perhaps you will find joy in the hunts, that you, my love, will become the protagonist in an unsolved mystery. the case of unsaid love, unsent letters. 

sending you stacks of written affection, watching you put the pieces together from afar. feasting on the attention I'd grown attached to. 

tearing fragments of my heart apart, neatly tucking in the edges to play who you want me to be.

forever I would lay disguised, a performer chained to the stage. as long as I always see you in the front row, to hear your claps distinctly against the others. 

nameless lover, why can’t you clutch upon another’s being? 

why did you choose me? why hold as I beg you to let go?

I cannot stand the idea of you far, to have you exist miles away. to live, feel and all the above without me.

so, perhaps that is why I cling. despite being utterly tired of rewriting the same pain that broke my own beating organ, I will endure. 

for that smile of yours, is worthwhile.

in the depths of dark, your smile lights up my days. their shine, triggers infatuated confessions.

look, I wanted to explain.

never would I dream to cause you discomfort, therefore I cower.

hid the letters, unsung melodies of my heart.

the reason I cling to our shared distance, why I tug the ends to their extent.

morphing the colourless string connecting the two of us, into a vibrant red.

no matter the urge to break, watch your eyes downcast as you proclaim your fear of unlovable self.

I will reassure, repeat that someone out there will always love you.

forever, I beg you to believe me. trust that I would never lie to you.

for I am here, loving you entirely in secret.

despite the distrustful appearance of everything, I love you, and that is not fake.

it never will be.

therefore, in exactly one week. I will conceal, once again.

even if it kills me, you will lie unharmed for eternity.

and that’s enough, for me.

for us.

the constant image of a cycle, never stop. the days pass, the sun rises though shudders behind the moon every night.

painting our skies with eternal darkness.

coating us in earthly damnation.

a midnight tainting our souls, diagnosing a case of endless pain.

can I ever escape?

shall we ever be more than a mix of those who made us?

closed in, lights dark. a familial bond id heard only in tales unspoken.

my destiny set by default.

my home torn to pieces in the eye of the beholder, why mother, did you suffocate me with nothing but empty pride?

the stories are lost, disfigured to another’s mouth. the truth has been isolated, cut off from the prominence of lies.

a picture perfect display, stored realities behind old, oak frames.

shall I surrender to your scream? let the jagged edges pierce my heart?

my voice is eternally muted, I pour my soul into every breath.

I wanted more, I believed you would deliver me.

so I let go, welcomed a vulnerability I had sheltered for far too long. I lost control in your burning embrace, encouraging the flames to lick the skin you nurtured.

mother, I lather my shields of crimson across your tan skin. only for you to accuse me of false preaching, to blatantly ignore the cuts you cried over.

the very breaks you forced into light, the ones you blamed yourself for.

whenever I mention the memory of times where I once self harmed, whoever heard gazed upon my frame as though it was unrecognisable.

you did the same.

simple and structured, an endless cycle.

to the one who conceived me, why. why on the night you caught a glimpse of my pain, I was criticised as I calmed the storm in your heart?

even as I stand bare, exposed beyond capability. I’m still stuck in this box, cutting out the nerves necessary to tie you back together.

wiping your tears, I cried blood across my arms.

even now, I am treated less. as I stood strong on the hardest night of my life, you underestimate.

manipulating your way in my life, claiming you can know me better.

ok.

do you want to win?

I’m sure you know plenty more than me, know the knowledge of a wise, grasp the realities of the world, even know my sizes better.

but, me?

you don’t know me.

you stopped knowing, when you stopped caring.

when suddenly everything mattered more than your own daughter.

I cannot expect you to have a life revolved around me, centred to me. but you don’t deserve to understand me, when even my name is incoherent.

you will never process the nights I spent alone, coaxed in utter darkness.

the isolation, detachment.

the pleading to whatever God that I am something worthwhile.

allowing each acidic tear to roll down my cheeks, despite the sting. in fact, I feasted on it.

why did I do it all?

the question for the ages.

maybe the motive was attention, the craving of something you never gave.

perhaps, I needed the pain. devoured it like a starved beast, for that is all I’ll ever be.

possibly, I blamed myself. needed to atone for the sins, shed the blood I’d already known was paid.

or, maybe I needed peace. desired an end to an emptiness that seemed to never leave.

it may have even been a soft launch to a harsher pain to come. one that would silence the chaos, the noise that constantly murmured.

I can’t stand this never-ending cycle. to appear as nothing more than weak, a child incapable of comprehending her emotions. the one you see me as.

and, perhaps you are right. who knows, one day I may praise your all knowing sight. beg for mercy, pray you may spare a moment.

although,

I doubt it.

blood, we may share. memories, we may never forget. a bond, we are bound to.

none of that compares.

for as I swallowed the sobs, I would’ve thought you’d care. I guess, I was wrong.

maybe this is to be my revelation, that I will seek peace in these moments.

find stability in the reassurance of your let downs.

let myself heal in the absence of your scaled care.

so.

dear mother, hear me cry.

allow a chance for your offspring’s recovery, before you destroy it all.

look, my love for you stays.

though, my heartbeat is still echoing in a hollow cove.

see me as me, and we have a deal.

save me, I plead. save me, restore the light in endless midnight.

let me escape.

everything I once knew, stripped bare before your sight.

those eyes follow me everywhere I go, like ghosts betrothed to the in between.

I remember your face so clearly, as though it was set in 4K.

why can’t you leave me alone?

haven’t you taken enough from me?

that day, that night.

your tanned display appearing before me, such a simple look. a glimpse at a smile.

how can a man, so innocent and pure — take my freedom so swiftly like a thief in the night?

I trusted your being, the decency of a human being.

but.

as you chased me down that street, your smile morphed into a grimace.

your whispers became shouts, following me everywhere I go.

“come on! I’m not like that.”

he shouted, again and again.

“no.”

my breath lodged in my throat, the tears welled.

why. oh, why?

as I ran, the air escaped my lungs. sprinting, you lingered. the old music still blasting before my ears, a joyful beat alongside a catastrophic night.

your car remained in my perphiral, its light blue tinge reflecting the sky’s sky.

the colour of hope, of peace distorted by you.

you.

you took my freedom, stole my life. forced me aware, in constant fear of those around me.

forever I shall be stuck, lost in your world. despite never peering at your face, I’m trapped within the devil’s brown eyes.

the stories shout run, so I ran. ran till oxygen was merely a concept, for you produced only dioxide which suffocated me without a second thought.

as my feet floated off the ground, a rhythm was set. every story I’d read, watched.

flickers of survivors poisoned my flow. reminding me my body can be stolen, tortured till my final breath.

brought to nothing.

nothing at all.

so as I gaze upon the lightly painted dusk skies, I find your car. its imprint stained on my heart.

my breath lost, legs crumbled against the gutter — grasping for a saviour.

my soul rests dead, suffocated by your lethal syllables.

propped up against the neighbours fence, I stare again.

blue.

a colour now portraying pain, the dagger’s shine in the light of day.

slowly, I let go.

my heavy eyelids make peace with each other, set in a cage. one I shall never escape from.

my shade of peace, hope morphed by you.

you.

you ruined my favourite colour.

that in another life we stood hand in hand, or maybe even against each other.

whatever it is, I can't let you go. everywhere I look, I see you. feel you.

your presence undeniably influencing me, your aura is one of deja vu. a sense of belonging found in no other.

maybe, you have picked it up now. I wouldn't blame you, I keep knocking on your door. faster, louder, wasting every remaining breath screaming your name into the nothingness. why can’t you hear me?

nonetheless, I wanted to proclaim my side. to let you hear my heart beat, before they tear me apart. sculpturing me into a revolting lurker.

the beginning, or whatever that is — I knew you, moreover knew of you. in all honesty, I can't remember the moment it all slid. though before I knew it, you were my missing puzzle piece. embodying the role of a friend, though resting within a slot unidentified.

as each day passed, my love grew for you. I became hypnotised by your being, the way you smiled. the way in which your eyes lit up whenever you got the chance to speak, really speak. listening to you, hours on end — felt nothing more than seconds. every syllable harmonizing, intercepting the noise with such delicacy.

you were so perfect for me, then why did your calling of me “best friend” pierce me like a dagger? I was captured, every flaw, every quirk that made you you was effortlessly compressed in my love for you.

moved on, I tried. I pushed any lingering beats far from the surface, suppressing the mere thought. by the time fall came along, I thought i’d lost it. until you called my name, told me you were leaving.

I couldn't want you, couldn't have you.

that year, I spent every spare second of time preparing this gift for you. sticking each picture carefully in every corner, aligning them flawlessly. that's what you deserve.

between every dried tear plastering among the glue residued pages, was unknowingly forcing out a love beyond our platonic seal. part of me, needed you to leave. needed you gone, so I wouldn't have my heart lurch further for yours in a useless pursuit. that you wouldn’t confirm my greatest fears, I can’t love you.

that summer.

our last summer together.

our little group spent each day together, being teenagers in the most stupid of ways. laughing till the sun rose, cowering in the sheets at every lit screen, indulging on sugars bound to rot.

every day that passed, that unidentified slot became painfully obvious.

you.

oh, you.

I knew it then, it all hit me.

despite trying so fucking hard to stop, to leave it all behind. I couldn’t. for you, were far too irresistible for a sucker like me.

I loved you.

I think part of me still does..

as I add another love letter to stacks left in my room, I know you will never see me as more and I could never blame you.

whether in this one, or the millions of others. I will love you, even if it was never my intention.

in another universe, maybe you will love me back?

it doesn’t matter. regardless, you will always leave an empty hole in my heart to be filled by no other.

so call me.

call me disgusting, call me a monster. call me yours, call me whenever.

just never stop calling my name.

both things I hold within my grasp.

for one has been lost, the other distorts itself before my gaze.

as long as I’ve known, I’ve had a ill-guided relationship with food. whether it was the constant binge, or the starved days. i’ve never despised anything more.

my mind was a solace I found the only comfort in. I wanted to be happy, take pride in my being. though all I saw were my flaws.

the fat lined bones, the tight display behind clothes. the rotten teeth, deathly skin. everything that makes me me, sickened my every thought.

was that normal?

the media constantly promoting the joy of self-hatred, the discovery of finding your true self after picking apart each part they hated.

it made me feel as though this was right, that despite constant alarms ringing in my mind. I was destined to detest every part of myself, so I would haven’t to weep as they hate too.

the stars aligned at the realisation, a never-ending cycle of what’s enough.

the voices grow louder, the urges watch over my every move. as though their pressures were stronger than I could ever be.

they dug deeper every second I threatened to still, constant motion was my pain. my body lurching forward, breaking the restraints.

eat, eat. guilt by each bite, calories and sugars. was this body to be my life? I couldn’t eat, forever screaming for a solution. eating till there was an empty plate, starving until my organs begin to digest themselves.

the rules never dissipate, nor shall they ever be broken. eat that, destroy that.

“you’re smart.”

“you’re useless.”

“you’re beautiful.”

“you’re hideous.”

what am I?

so many lives with the purpose of ruining mine.

I didn't know how to make them stop, didn't understand the price of “right”. everything I once understood to be right, suddenly felt more wrong than ever.

a body, a soul.

both lost.

the body of a child, felt no different than one of a pig.

the mind of wise, dulled. stripped bare, exposing its thoughts to be nothing but judged.

a body, a soul.

maybe. maybe I don't deserve either.

ever since I was young, the way I carried myself seemed to appeal to others.

this isn't some story on the obscurity of our world, but more a reflection of the parts we shelther away from the youth.

to be diagnosed as nothing before another’s eyes, is a fate id rather die than face. though, the truth?

as a girl with little to no significance, to die is to be nothing.

what would that mean for me?

would I just be seen as another victim? a tale of a meaningless frame?

a beauty a restless man laid his eyes on?

truly I know, I am far more than I lead on. we all are. but in this world, our talents may disperse compared to another.

I’m terrified, to be made into dust. my life, my thoughts, my mind, all of it amounting to nothing.

I guess you could say that is my biggest fear.

from the moment of fabrication, I was gifted with a mind beyond my years.

I became that kid. the “quiet” foe, seen but not seen. when I realised no one understood, I distanced even further.

it felt as though the prophecy of my life was delivered. that for eternity I would stand, beat against billions of hearts. to have not a single one understand mine.

would I die to be understood?

as time passed, I began to welcome the quiet. found peace in its silence.

its ways felt familiar, like an old friend. a comfort never forgotten.

after awhile, I felt stuck. endless days turned into silent montages, no light. the coloured lines bled, producing a smudged display.

my home, the safety I’d grown to reside within - crumbled. first, was the roof. the ability to hide belittled at every crack.

the walls closed in, threatening to crush me. the pressure was unbearable. then the floor, shattered.

now I’m stuck.

falling.

and falling.

it never stops.

the walls hid the reality, but it was me. I knew who I could be, one day I might have opened the roof. installed a few windows, who knows?

but now, an eternal loop.

I don’t recognise silence, can’t differ it’s chords from another’s.

the days become one, the faces morph. even though I can see the light, see and feel it’s blinding edges pierce my soul and filter into my heart.

I can’t reach it.

I know those who love me, but i seem to mistake them as villainous prodigies.

I’m nothing. dead or alive. I live as a passing figure, trading one darkness for another.

though why I fear death and endure life, is because whilst breathing I get a chance to evolve.

once in my life, I won approval like an Olympian. I was loved, I wasn't nothing.

though as I sit here as nothing, my hollow body is not yours to take. for I, shall be the only reason to my demise.

to be nothing is as good as being dead, then why is my destiny to live?

maybe, im something?

the words haunt me like an angered ghost. possessing my every thought, corrupting my entire being.

I can't seem to escape you, let me be free my love. for you are the only way out of this twisted stage we perform on.

I want to be someone worthy of your love, you are truly a gift. your standards may be beyond my capability, though I shall spend eternity begging to be satisfactory.

just give me one day, for I shall echo the melodies of my love. let them vibrate across every heart, in such a deafening decibel that it cannot be ignored.

my love, I will plead. for you, I will wait. even if it costs me my only life, why should I attempt stumble through life when you are my true guide?

I've tried, what feels like a million times. honestly, I don't want to love you. you aren't the one for me, I know this.

you yearn for brighter souls, one’s that reflect the tinge of the sun. though I, captivate the essence of the moon. hidden by the shine of another.

to love you would be a conquest doomed from our fabrication. from the moment our worlds first collided, we were destined to die.

the worst part of it all, is that part of me believes you may burn for me. you hide that same shame behind your ocean eyes, though may crash before another’s shore.

one day i dream, I shall just rip off the band-aid. to take that leap, to risk crashing into your arms or falling to the deepest depths.

the underlining barrier beneath it all, is what would happen to us?

would you reveal your heart to me? destroy the shield you installed and let me love you?

I want to change my life, to let your blinding light guide me to a chance. the impossible possibility of us.

for you, I will change.

but what if I won’t? what if I threaten to cower in the face of a mother?

the world ways entangle me from every direction, something must be wrong with me as I surrender to their laws.

the heart desires to evolve, terminate the chains and lead a new life.

though my mind locks me in, forces me to stay. for I know, I am weak.

you know this.

maybe that’s why you shudder.

my love, you are the one in films. the red-string, the soulmate. the one that got away.

those moments we shared, the warmth and scent of your hoodies. the times I took that risk and leaned even the slightest bit closer. when I hugged you goodbye, knowing you are gone.

as I stood there engulfed by your being, I lost the ability to breath. tears welled up in my eyes, begging to escape. though remained.

for the heart beats far too loud, and I knew. I knew despite wanting you more than life itself, I couldn’t have you.

to you, I will always be the clown of a friend you left home.

if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. if you ever longed for me the way I do for you, don’t wait. for I am, a coward.

I love you, I’m sorry.

if I wasn't so naive, i’d believe waiting in the shadows was a worthy pursuit. that one morning, I would greet the sun again and fall into a forbidden spell. that I would be granted my evermost desires, that everything would have been worth it.

though that will never exceed the pages of my dreamed fairytale.

time is a blessing, then why have I never felt so cursed of its grip on me?

as my days pass, as we all near the end of existence. I search for something plausible, a sign that the world’s hands shall hold me like a child. that it will captivate my soul, encourage the darkest nights to pass and the joyous reigns to take stand.

it easy to feel hopeless, when even time isn't on your side.

the battle of worthiness, the fight of motivation. though, when the very soil one resides in threatens to swallow it whole; there is no longer life.

its as if the life giving soil consumed us like quick sand, locking us in place. yet everything around me moves, it spins.

though, I am frozen.

in a sense, our minds and self are somewhat similar to the figure and its connection to sand.

the ability to remove ourselves, amounts to nothing at the face of our thoughts.

the underlining question, behind the efficiency entrapment is:

how do we escape?

how shall we climb out of the endless cage? furthermore, what will be the cost of our freedom?

to scream in a soundproof room, proves to be a worthless pursuit. no matter the decibel you may reach, you shall be eternally silent if you refuse to find solace beyond the scream swallowed walls.

coming to that conclusion, what does it mean to break free?

what is the price of a second chance? truly, it is unreachable. the prize takes risks.

it’s rather similar to starting a business, or implementing a new schedule. sometimes it takes everything you know, everything you have.

it shall strip you entirely, force your being into the world. a sudden state of vulnerability, exposed to your peers.

theres no doubt, it wont be hard. you’ll be forced to face every part of you, even those you buried.

for they are rooted within you.

will you face them? at the end of the day, the choice is yours.

to be free, you need to see it through. choose yourself, even if it means a new version of you.

growth breaks the walls, releasing into a universe far bigger than anything you've known.

frankly, time nevers stops. forever spinning, forcing you into the eye of the hurricane.

either stand, freeze within the spun webs you've entangled yourself in.

or scour the land for an exit. harness the storm, and let it guide you.

embrace the chaos, for that is the only stable foundation time provides.

though we may be urged to wait, the ticks of another will haunt us eternally. the only option?

don't stand by as it swallows you, break free. let its chaotic nature wash over you, embrace its unpredictability.