Look up, sweet child
Your eyes are so sad
I’m sorry things had to turn out this bad

Stand up, my love
I hate to see you hurting
I know I can’t fix you, but I can show you the way

It’s dark in here, darling
Come on and take my hand
I’m not trying to rush you, but I know where this ends

Walk with me, honey
You don’t have to say a thing
I already understand the pain you’re carrying

Listen to me, baby
I promise I’m not lying
When I tell you there so much more to life than dying

This one is for you
And the pain you are fighting
As long as you’re walking then I know you are trying

It’s weird being high-functioning.
It’s hard for others to see what’s wrong, sometimes it hard for ME to see what’s wrong.
I go to work, I clean my house, I cook dinner, I don’t feel much.
I experience life as a monotone melody, everyday feels like the same day on an infinite loop.
I’m here, I’m there, I’m nowhere while being everywhere
It’s not horrible, it’s not great. It just is.
It’s weird being high-functioning because I often forget I don’t have to live like this.

I’ve lost 5 more pounds.

“You look so good!”

With every compliment I feel heavier.

“You’ve lost so much weight!”

Tomorrow I won’t eat.

“I’m so proud of you!”

I’m so hungry.

“It looks like you’ve lost more weight..”

I did, but I won’t admit to it.

“Are you eating?”

Yes, but I won’t say how little.

“How did you do it??”

Trust me. You don’t want to know.

There are things I cannot remember,

There are things I cannot forget.

       To me it seems like an unfair trade.

The things I cannot remember sleep in the back of my skull,

The things I cannot forget scratch at the nerves behind my eyes.

        To me it seems like an unfair trade.

The things I cannot remember remain forgotten,

The things I cannot forget remain remembered.

        To me it seems like an unfair trade.

In the canyons between the grey matter, lives something much darker.
Swimming comfortably in the river of my mind.

Her voice sounds like mine.
Her face a perfect reflection.

Invading my thoughts with whispered obscenities.
Filling my vision with clouded water.

Her presence is shifty.
Here one day and gone the next, but she never really is.

They tell you not to name your demons
But it’s hard when they already have one.

I have an intruder living inside me.
And the scariest part is that she is me.

Why would you choose someone like me?

There are women much prettier than I,

With skin softer than mine,

Hair longer,

Bodies better,

Voices smoother,

Eyes deeper,

Personalities richer,

Hearts bigger.

Why would you choose someone like me?

You can have so much more than my low self-esteem.

When I am alone, I am not lonely.

When I am lonely, I am not alone.

Hours spent by myself pass like minutes.

Minutes spent in company pass like hours.

Sitting in my home I feel endless.

Standing in a crowd I feel isolated.

Why does it seem like these things are reversed?

Paper tongues on the blacktops surface

Canary bulbs falling from skeletal branches

Individual sunrises growing in constellation patches

Sweetened breath blowing around our heads

Golden nests being towed along slowly

Crystal mirrors dotting the surface of peaceful windows

Frigid blankets stiffing early morning grasses

I’m on the edge.
I’ve been on the edge for as long as I can remember.
Staring into a void with no end.
I’m balanced on the edge.
I don’t tip.
I don’t fall.
I won’t.
I can’t.
If I do then all of my pain was for nothing.
And if I have learned anything from my time spent here,
It’s that I am not nothing.

Don’t worry about me
My end is coming sooner than you think
I see it in my dreams
It calls to beacon me

I am not afraid
If I was it would come faster
My fate is made
And I am my own life’s master

I cannot run
So I don’t dare hide
Do not cry for me ***
I’ve enjoyed my free ride

Sonder, a word maybe some of you have never heard. An emotion some of you have felt but were never able to name.
Name.
Name?
What is their name?
The girl walking down the sidewalk, with hair brighter than the sun and shoes darker than the night - what is her name?
The man rushing out the door, hailing for a cab, hoping that he just might make it on time - what is his name?
The people we pass by every day, the people we see get off at different stops than ours, the people we watch cry with a phone pressed to their ear, as we wonder what could have been on the other end - what are their names?
Who are they?
Who are their children?
Who are their parents?
Do they have a dog?
Are they married?
Have they lost someone?
Are they lost?
Do they own a house?
Do they walk to work everyday?
Do they pray to god every night for a miracle?
Are they hungry?
Are they trying?
Do they have a bed to sleep in?
Who do they call for help?
Do they cry themselves to sleep every night?
Who are they?!
Who are they....

Sonder; The realization that each passerby has a life just as complex, and just as vivid as your own.