Mom,
If I ever decide to tell you
That tomorrow I’ll be gone…
What will your response be?
Would you support me?
Would you tell me it’s okay?
Would you tell me my decision isn’t wrong?

Tell me that…
Someday you will understand
That you will try
At least

I assure you
If you ever hear those words,
It wasn’t easy for me
So don’t try to change my mind
Don’t try to stop me
Don’t make me pity you

Tell me you will miss me
Tell me you’ll be sad
Tell me you’ll remember my last words
Tell me you won’t forget my birthday
Tell me you will cry

It’s not that I want to hurt you
I just
I want to know I’ve meant something
At least
Something

I can’t stand this
Why are you pretending to be the one who’s done nothing wrong?
I mean, you can’t do that to me
We used to be friends
We used to be so close
I used to be so close
I was so close to you, so close
I’ve never been closer to anyone
And I told you so much
And none of it was ever a lie
I swear, I never told you a single lie
And I can’t stand the fact that you’re not even bothered that we ignore each other
That we avoid each other
That we don’t make eye contact with each other
Even though we live in the same apartment
And how did I not noticed how double-sided you are
That the moment we grew apart you became so close
So close to the person you started talking against
You’re laughing so hard
So hard with the person you started talking behind their back
You’re having so much fun
So much fun with the person you started complaining from
How amazing do you think you are
Being able to pull that off
So-full-of-****
Hay, hello, remember me?
Yeah, we used to be friends
Yeah, you told me how your mother
Said she likes your brother more
I was the one hugging you while you were crying
Yeah, you told me how your grandpa committed suicide because you found out too late about his Depression
That he was depressed
I was the one hugging you while you were crying
Yeah, now you only talk to me telling me to take my still wet plate off ‘cause you’ve got dishes to do
Yeah, I’m still around if you were wondering
But don’t bother, if you would even do such a thing, don’t bother asking how I am
Because last time you did, we were still friends, and I didn’t answer
Because last time you asked, I wasn’t fine
Last time I couldn’t talk
Because it hurt too much
And I don’t know what hurt
But it hurt
And I couldn’t tell you it hurt
Because I didn’t know why it hurt
And you can’t say that it hurts and then not tell where or why or since when
Because when you don’t give reasons, it becomes so “attention seeking”
And I wasn’t attention seeking
I was reason seeking
I was meaning seeking
I was support seeking
I was understanding seeking
So I kept quiet
And I kept quiet
And I kept quiet
And I kept quiet
And I kept quiet
And you couldn’t see the giant gulp stuck in my throat
Even when it was poking out, when it stopped my breathing, when it broke my jaw spilling it out
So I, still thinking that you will wait for my recovery, still thinking that we are so close with each other, that we are just distant for a while, I wrote you a letter
Still being in my “depression mode”, I wrote you a letter
Trying to explain to you, only you, I’ve never tried explaining it to anyone, that I’m so sorry for being difficult right now, that it’s not my fault that I can’t cope right now, that I don’t want this to be like this
And you didn’t even bother
You didn’t even bother
To reply
Just
A reply
And I
I, I broke
Because you couldn’t understand my Depression
You couldn’t see my pain, even though I was writing it down for you
Only you
And you didn’t even bother
You see, before you encountered my Depression, I used to think that we are so alike
I used to think that you would be the friend that I would want to spend my vacations with
Now I don’t know what I liked so much about you
Now I can’t find a single thing we have in common
And now I don’t want to be even as half as close with anyone as I was as close with you
And I’m, I’m afraid of calling anyone my “friend”
Because, I thought I know you, so I called you “friend”
But I didn’t know you, and I was trying to let you know me
And I was doing my best, showing you every particle of me
And you were only my “friend” when I was okay
And when I wasn’t, you couldn’t handle me being ignorant towards you
Because I couldn’t listen to your stories at that time
And you couldn’t be bothered with dealing with me… having Depression
I don’t consider that “friendship”
And I won’t let anyone so close as seeing that I have a gloomy side
Because I can’t expect that anyone would want to stay
When even you left

There’s a song that goes like
“I walk this empty street
On the boulevard of broken dreams”
And I always wonder if the singer ever stops feeling lonely
If they ever stop walking their road and go home to rest
And I, I want to go home
Home where, when you enter, you suddenly feel warmed and recharged with life
And I, I want to go home
But I don’t know where home is
Because nothing feels like home, really
And I’m tired or
More like exhausted
But not because I’ve walked too much
Or because I’ve worked a lot, no
I’m exhausted from living really
Holding too much hope when everything ever is lost and hopeless from the beginning
And I just always fail to see it
People say that things will get better
But how would they know, really?
People’ve never been in my shoes
They don’t know my story
Yet they talk as if they do
Even if I try to lay it all outside, there’s always something that cannot really go through
Something that stays unsaid or
Said but fairly misunderstood or
Understood but not quite comprehended or
Comprehended but taken as exaggeration
And people say that it’s not that bad really
They say that time heals everything
But I’ve never found it
The pharmacy that sales “time”
And I can’t inject it into my system
And wait for it to cure me
Sometimes I think that “time” is a magical flower
Like those described in children’s happy books
The flower is so exceptional and rare that three sons sail on a journey to find it
Each on different path, encountering adventures, fighting three-headed dragons, making friends, meeting mermaids
And the boys return home as men
But only the youngest son reveals the most awaited magic
At the end, the flower glows, the father is saved and the men get married to the women with golden hair
The book’s last page is painted with the magical red and gold flower at the center, glowing and sparkling
In the back, long in the distance is the father’s old but lovely house
The elderly man in front is surrounded by his sons who are holding the hands of the most beautiful princesses
And they are all smiling
Because they are at home
And there is no place like home
The book is closed and child is asleep

Sometimes I imagine that “time” is just a concept, created by the human brain
That “time” doesn’t exist and nothing ever moves forward
Like “time” is the illusion, we came up with, to ignore our pain
Maybe with the hope to forget about how misfit we feel
And I wish “time” could help me too
But “time” doesn’t erase scars, cut deep into the skin
Nor does it glue back broken parts, dissolved into the soil
“Time” can’t paint new paths to long lost roads, flooded with cold tears and hot blood
It can’t translate never spoken words, kept hidden underneath the screams of silence
It can’t build up a home with bricks made of depression and wood of fake smiles
“Time” can’t fill the emptiness inside a human’s heart with sharp blades
It can’t treat the numbing with mental disorders
“Time” is no remedy
It does not cure any problems
“Time” leaves them unattended, collecting dust, making us getting used to our pain, really

Satan was sitting in Hell one day
He’s just realized that he was in love with a gay
Surprising himself, he felt kinda good
He placed his hand on his chest where his heart stood
Remembered the time when the first message was read
The kid was still young then, but so much he wrote, so much he said
Praising the Devil, the boy was obsessed
In the letter he wrote how much he felt blessed
For the Devil himself, he would gladly kneel
And if the Lord would just ask, the boy would not feel
The child never stopped sending the lists
Even though unsure if the Devil exists
But he always sent in for one tiny request
He asked for his ******, to die, to be dead
Year after year Satan would read:
“Please, Devil, please, let me just bleed”
The Ruler enjoyed it, to be worshipped for a change
The boy, though, deserved Heaven, despite it was strange
The Devil nodded, quite pleased
As the last letter read that the boy was relieved
The kid’s made a decision to fight for a while
To keep things concealed and for a few more days to just smile
That moment the Devil made his own choice
He was going to meet him, and so he voiced:
“I am going the Earth to bring here my lover!
Whoever dares to oppose him, shall never recover!”
And Satan took him and brought him to Hell
To keep him in sight and make sure that he’s well
The boy didn’t hate it, in fact he felt there more free
Despite a condition on which the boy did gladly agree
They sealed it with rings
And now Hell had two Kings

I am an easy to approach person;
My figure is not immediately repulsive.
I tend to attract a sense of eminence when you are around me.
I have an impressive charm.
Majestic, like the beauty of the Earth.
All that you discover…
Will hold more grace; Than you could ever measure.
Not by minutes,
Not by hours,
Not by days; or years
The Immeasurable magnitude of my richness; that could be apparently Infinite,
Is only limited because;well…
Its this representation of myself.

Something in the way that I sustain my life…
Will tend to convey others into antagonizing, my resolutions.
I, myself, am not sure, if what they thought I did or was doing, has any justification..
But, what I am sure of…
Is that any soul who has suffered; already recognizes that there is a need to endure;
whatever pain or struggle,that is.
Just like any soul that has suffered, also knows;
that all souls, are susceptible to a constant and never changing sentence of fate, leading to our death…
What we survive, represents how we have fortified ourselves to what seems adequate;
But only in our own perception.