-/+

In some cases I guess you could say I am happy being sad.

I've come to accept my feelings as a part of who I am. I am almost comforted by the fact that every time I get a second alone I will bawl and bawl until i hear keys jiggle in the door. I am used to my chest hurting from thoughts of being alone and unwanted and relishing in the heartache until someone comes around to snap me out of it. I would rather duck and scamper away in the cafeteria to avoid seeing someone I know simply so I can have a melancholy lunch by myself.

The thought of completely emerging out of my depression is actually terrifying to me. For whatever reason I feel attached to my thoughts of death, attached to the dull pain in my heart, attached to loneliness. Maybe this is simply another symptom. I feel twisted, and crazy, and full of so much malice but I like it because it's the strongest emotion I have to hold onto and I feel like it's me. Who knows who the medication will turn me into

How can the person who brings you all the joy in the world also be the same person to leave you feeling so hollow? The person you want to snuggle up to when you're sad despite the fact that they caused the sadness you're enduring. How can you feel so alive with someone but also feel like a corpse with them?

With a scowl on your small winter-greyed face, he holds you tight and whispers the words you secretly wish to hear the most. But you struggle and refuse to listen, passing said-words off as nonsense. He tells you you’re beautiful, that he’s lucky to have you, how unique and interesting you are, but you remain stubborn and upset for reasons you’re not entirely sure of. He takes note of this and tackles you to the bed, tickling you and smothering you with kisses and love you don’t feel you deserve. But he speaks words of sugar, and with the warmth of his soft but strong body atop of yours, that icy disposition you once had melts away like a Popsicle. Your body jerks beneath his with fits of giggles and screeching, not being able to fight back smiles and laughter anymore. And just like that, you don’t remember what was wrong in the first place, and all you can think about is how you’re really the lucky one. 

Noun: a small waterfall

I'd like to think that the cascade of tears down my face is not a sign of weakness, but maybe in some inverted world, a sign of strength. Tears of someone who gives so much of themselves and accepts little with rarely ever a peep but more a sense of gratefulness that someone wishes to be around them sometimes. Tears of someone who keeps their sadness, anger, & frustration to themselves to keep from conflict. Tears of someone who loves with everything they've got, and would sacrifice almost anything just to make them happy. These are tears of a girl who wishes she could figure it out, knows she never will, but tries regardless.

Go lightly

When one's grip loosens, is it customary hold on tighter?
Or do you take control and let go completely?
When an elder world starts to mesh with the present
And a younger you prances before your closed eyelids
Perhaps you should evaluate
Is the repetition you are faced with of a soft nature?
Or one that haunts your dreams at night?

To tell you the truth, it does not matter
Be careful

What are you made of?

Tonight is petty thoughts and irrational fears.
Tonight disillusion blends with seams of possibility 
Tonight is tension and internal bickering
Escape is welcome but at no simple cost 
One must wade through solution
No man should face such travesty 

Coming of age

In a mere instant the world I knew was an inverse.
What I perceived as a prison quickly lost the bars and chains holding me to it
All the physicalities disappeared into the thin air
And everything once known slipped through the cracks of my crippled grasp
Is this freedom? Is this a trick?
Despite the illusions of an unleashed neck,
Burden buries deeper than ever known before