It's so hard when you've been hiding
to come out of it again.
You can't do it
You can't do it
You can't do it,
But you've done it before so no one cares.
Somehow you'll push through it and suddenly you've added it once more,
Realistically they know that you'll do it again,
But this isn't realistic because it's about the imaginary.

You build yourself a home,
And tell yourself it's safe,
Then you disappear there for most waking hours of the day,
Then you have breaks from school when you should do revision and work,
You want to try so hard, so hard
Because you want to finally prove you can
You can be smart.
But you can't pull away from this,
You're trapped inside and you want to stay there,
The world keeps screaming at you that you're doing it all wrong.
You already know that but you keep going along;
It's that way or no way;
The world won't let you stop
No matter how hard you beg.

The home you've devised by yourself
Is filled with what you want and things you're scared of,
People you love so arduously
Yet continue absently,
Catastrophic events that break your heart
Even though they never came to be.

So you're screaming at the real walls surrounding you
Back in the harsh reality where nothing's as you want it,
Crying out that you want them here with you;
That it's the only way you'll get through;
Your whole world depends on these stupid, dejected, lovely, astute
Daydreams.
And to everyone else you could attempt to explain this to,
That is all they are:
Daydreams.
When the only thing you want,
Is for them to be reality.

Why is it so hard to
Keep breathing in fresh air?
How did everything get so damaged
from both simple and for too complex existence?
I don't know where lies begin and truth lies,
within myself all I have is ache, hurt, stillness and harmful explosions
where that I suffer myself before I go outside because nothing's really wrong with me.

Everything else is dying around me,
but somehow I'm still here
It's not hopeful and a heart filled with faith drops to the floor
and shatters into a million hurt feelings and angry concealed words that shall not be spoken

I see his face inside my head,
Scenes flash in front of me
And then I realise it's all just
Make-believe.

The closest thing that I believe to be completely true
is that everyone and everything is all just an illusion

I'm not defending him,
I'm just stating how I felt
that he was the world and the sunshine,
Even when everything else was a storm.

He was something I wanted to believe in,
Even if I knew that I should not.
Still I can't look at him without thinking what I thought,
I can't link what I've discovered when I'm looking at his face,
or listening to his voice in words that comfort me
and take the only place I seem to hold for him.

I know everyone is only an illusion,
I knew it all before,
This didn't have to be another lesson,
That everyone else seems to take better.

I've memorised, you see,
Everything that will happen
and how you should respond to it.
I knew it all along this journey and did not once forget,
I pushed it aside instead
because I wanted something more.

Now I stand and watch everyone being angry,
Being hateful and for the former rightfully so,
and probably for the latter.
I don't have a place in it though,
I can't do it and I don't want to,
So most of the time I am quiet instead,
Because I know my reasoning isn't in anyone's head.

I know you can't offer sorrow or mercy,
Not to him, and only deranged looks at me.
I believe something went wrong,
Which obviously you can all see,
I know you don't care for the deeper, darker picture
But I can't help but be intrigued.
I know you'd say I'm delusional, weak minded even,
That I just have to find a way to make the reality a little lighter.
You're probably right.

But I don't want to hate him.
I'm getting more distant I think,
In the months away from him,
It's almost like he's not real now:
a figment of a teenage dream,
Tarnished by the nightmares he knew he had created
And hid for his own benefit.

He's a danger to others,
I guess I'm starting to see this slightly when I see his face,
It comes with practice and repeated words to remind myself before I look.
With more time I suppose he'll have completely vanished
And mean less and less,
So that one day I may not need to offer sympathy.

It's just a little secretly funny,
How I doubt my trust for men,
But I ignored his faults so easily,
After all he couldn't touch me
He was too far away, too in my dreams.
Maybe he's just a statement
of how I know to never believe.

Who wants to be the first poem of the New Year.
Not me. Do you want to be?
I don't think you understand,
If you win then you really lose;
You'll either be in devastating pain;
Or you've made me hate it all.