⚠️ Trigger Warning ⚠️

I’m not suicidal,
I fear death.

I think about dying—
it's always a vivid, beautiful, sunny day.

I just want to bleed, cuts under the skin.
I just want to starve, protruding bones.
I just want to disappear, non-existent.

I’m trying to get my affairs in order,
to tend to my responsibilities,
to care for my loved ones
just in case.

I’m not suicidal,
at least, I don’t think I am.

I fear death.

If I die tonight,
Bury me shallow,
So I can wake from the abyss,
And leer at the hazy moonlight,
As it bounces softly through the treetops.
Where I can hear the birds,
Chirping to greet the sun.
Where others can hold their breath,
And hear my soul through the ground.

I want my writing
To be profound
A work of art you just
Want to hang on your wall
And when you look at it
Day in and out
The words will seep
Back through your skin
And melt in your heart
And suddenly, you feel
Like someone you've never met
Knows you better than
Your closest companions
And somehow that's okay
Because now you know
You've never been alone.

That got your attention
Didn't it?
Even though I am a stranger
Who couldn't possibly know it to be true
And worth is subjective
Arbitrary
Those who know you would disagree
And point out your merits
And you would weigh yourself
To realise that not all parts are equal
Who am I to say such things?

And yet you take the time to read it
Reread, incase you misread
In reading you contemplate it's truth
You are my puppet, and me your puppeteer
How could you be such a sheep!

Why are you amused?
Why does insult carry more meaning than praise?

It's easy to hurt.
Sticks and stones may break your bones
But words can make you think you deserved it.
We are social beings and so
We look for validation
But insult stands out
It leaves a branded mark in our brains
And so we spotlight it
Unfairly
Unjustly

It's easy to be sad.
But it's fulfilling to be happy.
Being positive is hard
But it's worth it in the end.

How could I possibly know?
I couldn't.
But I do.
And soon you will too.

What are you doing now?





You are reading!

Now you are smiling.

I am constantly misread.
By the way I speak,
The words I write,
And the actions I do.
Everything is analyzed in such a way, today
That there is no way around it.
We are criticized,
Yelled at,
Belittled,
Because of words we did not say.
But for the interpretations people take from our
Words we speak,
Words we write,
And actions we do.
Life was simple back then
When I wasn’t constantly misread.

I feel like I’m alone in a library with no guide,
the silence pressing in,
the words on the pages a reminder
that I can’t connect to anything.
The book I’m reading is losing its meaning,
the plot unraveling
with each sentence I try to understand.
And I wonder,
if I keep reading,
will the ending ever come?
Or is this story one
that doesn’t have a finish,
one that leaves me lost in its endless chapters?