As suddenly as he came into my life,
my days began to revolve around him.
But not just revolve,
be determined around him.

Each time I saw him during the day,
it seemed as if a new day had come.
See him three times in a day,
experience three days within one.

It made days last forever -
we had forever at our fingertips.
The together forever only lasted 5 days,
The separate forever would last the rest of our lifetimes.  

Forever with you passes like 5 days and feels like forever
Forever without you never passes and feels like nothing.

So if things start
to get a bit better
and your days begin
to look a little brighter,
just know that it’s not by chance,
or some stroke of luck.
It’s because I’ve been praying
for your days to be filled
with more sunshine
and your shoulders to be lifted
of any burden
because if i can’t be there
to look after you,
I can at least let God know
that I need him to.

God, be with the boy i love.
place your hand on every part of him and his life that i’m no longer able to and heal him of the pain i’ve caused.
bring him as much happiness and success as possible in this world and help him to see that he is worth much more than he lets himself believe.
Lord, please clear his mind of any darkness or belief i may have put in his mind that he is inadequate.
carry him safely away and let no more pain or suffering be brought to a heart as pure and full as his.
i know you will always love him more than i was ever able to show him i did.
amen

today, for the first time in a very long time, my mind feels like a beautiful place to be in.

I’ve never been a true believer of any religion with nothing more than a handful of faith.
Since losing you, that handful emptied as I let you go.
I now find myself wishing daily that I will find something to hold onto in order to feel a sense of belonging.
I’ve never been much good at holding onto and belonging to myself.

I do not hate him for making me fall in love with someone who was always bound to leave.

I do not hate myself for falling in love with someone who was always bound to leave.

But I do hate myself for falling in love with feeling loved knowing that it was always bound to be temporary.

your world will fall apart,
you will lose yourself
and every safety net you thought you had,
will give in.
you will feel as though there is nothing left
and you will be hanging on by a strand.

this has happened many times,
and if not,
it will.

let yourself feel this.
cry,
scream,
listen to songs that break your heart.
embrace your loneliness,
your heartache,
your confusion.

let yourself crack.
let the light in.
be open to what is unfamiliar.
realize that this?
this is solitude,
these are growing pains,
this is you finding your way back home to yourself.

i know it feels as though there is nothing left for you, but there is.

there is you.

as much as you’ve allowed yourself to shrink into places you no longer fit
and as much of yourself as you’ve cut off to fit into places you no longer belong,

there is you.

you are not disappearing anymore,
you are not rebuilding your world,
you are building you.

I will stay awake
and I will let my eyes burn.
It is better to feel the pain again
than to continue feeling nothing at all.

one day,
as you’re lying in bed,
he will cross your mind
like an unexpected thought.

you will realize
it is because today
was the first day of
not continuously staring at a chat with an empty message box
not updating him on what you’re doing
not feeling the urge to know how his life is going.

it will scare you.
this is the very thing that has terrified you from the very beginning.
not knowing
not being connected.

don’t be scared.
this connection?
it was wrapped around your heart,
your throat - slowly suffocating you.
you don’t know what fresh air tastes like anymore.
trust me - it is good for you despite its unfamiliarity.

it is not his fault, it is not yours.
the suffocating felt like comfort.

I saw something that said
the first thing you forget about someone is their voice.
I can’t remember what my name sounds like when you say it
or the sound of your laugh after I mimic the way your mouth makes it unique.
I am forgetting you.
Which is supposed to be a good thing
- a sign of moving on.
Instead, it has been my biggest fear.
So I go back and listen.
Over and over again.
Trying my best to memorize your voice,
to keep you from disappearing.
But I know
that you already have.

one day i will meet someone who will understand my soul as deeply as i do
and i will understand theirs as deeply as my own.
they will have felt the love i have felt, the loneliness that aches in my bones and the yearning for someone to understand me as well as they do.
because of this understanding, they will feel the hurt, the fear and the brokenness that i do too.

but contrary to popular belief, two broken halves do not make a whole.
no matter how perfectly the jagged edges fit together, there will always be pieces chipped away and lost along the journey to get to each other.

and i can’t help but brood over the fact that the pain, heartache and walls another had caused from not understanding my soul, could keep me from the one that does.

The smell
that once
used to linger
in my hair
because of you

now only lingers
in all the places
you are not.

- Everywhere.

the girl wandered
and dreamt
and got lost in her head
only to let it float up to the clouds.

she read books
and wrote poetry
and found magic in the ordinary world.

she contemplated
and spent time with herself
and drowned out the noise around her.

she absolved the chaos within herself
only through slighting that which occurred without.

she wandered away
until she could no longer find her place in the world
but, in doing so,
had found her place inside herself.

wear your name around my neck instead of a cross
because i believe in us far more than i’ve ever believed in a religion.

We must learn
to not love
in a way that
is fulfilling to us,
but in a way
that is fulfilling
to whom we love.

the covers rustle as you slide under.
slowly, gently.
the light clicks off and your warmth moves across my back.
your fingertip brush along my cheek with a stray strand of hair
and your lips plant a quiet kiss where that strand used to be.
when your breath moves from my cheek to the back of my neck,
your hand slides around me and pulls me just that little bit closer to make us one.
gradually my body begins to absorb into yours and your heat into mine as your breathing becomes deep.
to love me in this way
would be to love me completely, vulnerably, gently.

How do you let go of something
that you could only love pieces of
but still loved just as ferociously
as if you were to love the whole?

It’s like trying to let go of something whole
when you only held a few pieces of it to begin with.

i miss when you made me feel like i was easy to love.

when the light became bright enough to burn my eyes
i closed them
and pretended it was a car headed straight for me
and not just one passing me by.
i took a deep breath as if it was my last
and my heart raced while my soul stretched towards the heavens.
when i opened them again
it felt like i was in a dream
and all i could think was
how i wished it could’ve felt like heaven or hell instead.

The dark force is pulling me
down
down
down.
I am empty
I am heavy
I can’t fight it - the force is not an enemy.
It is inside.
It is me.

He broke my heart,
I broke his too.
It’s not just a broken heart
when it takes your hope and future too.

Being with him was like holding a gift you knew you’d have to pass on, but feeling the joy of just being able to touch it, despite knowing it wasn’t yours to keep.

It seemed as though he was leaving before he’d even arrived.

At first I’d spend hours questioning it.
“God, why do you put me in this position? Why give me this angel, this blessing, if he’s not meant to stay? I know some people you take away to teach me something, but you’ve taken him before he was even mine!”

With a mind full of a racing thoughts, my heart would hurt. Why would a god so great do such a cruel thing?

After wandering down many roads of possible answers to all the whys, I’ve stopped at this:

Perhaps God didn’t bring you to me to teach me something. Perhaps it wasn’t even to bless me for the short period of time  – God knew such a blessing would hurt too much when it was taken away.

It was a message. A sort of prophecy. “Do not worry. You feel like you have no angel watching over you. But you will. See, here he is. This blessing is yours, but he isn’t here to stay. I know you want him to, but you’ve both got some growing to do. Just know that  this angel is yours, this angel will come back to you.”

About a month ago I cried because I couldn't find my favourite pair of socks. Last week I cried because I forgot my AP books in my locker, and I couldn't do the homework that I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to do in the first place. Yesterday I cried because my cookies didn't come out just right.

I cry. A lot. About everything.

I have been called everything from oversensitive to a baby to overdramatic. I
mean, haha, I clearly really wanted to wear those socks because now my whole day is ruined. I am extremely good at making something out of nothing.

Being this kind of sad is funny that way, no inconvenience is a minor inconvenience, it's all the end of the world or might as well be.

But I go with it. I joke about my tears and their daily visits.

I also joke about my anger and the chair I kicked resulting in a dislocated toe. I joke about the things I've thrown and the people that make my hands clench at my sides. I joke about it because it's easier than explaining it. I don't like my anger.

So, I've learnt how to turn my angry into lonely and my lonely into busy.
How do I explain that when I say I've been super busy lately, I mean I've been too busy falling asleep because drowning my pillow is tiring.

Depression is a monologue shot underwater, depression is sulking because I won't talk about it anymore.

How can I explain to my friends what is happening inside of my head when I can't even figure it out myself? How do I explain to them that I have been hit by too many people with "how dare you hurt me with your hurt" to not be convinced that I will accidentally do that to them? So we've grown accustomed to sulking. It has become a routine, joking about those ridiculous mood swings of mine.

My depression is a coat disguised as depersonalisation tendencies, "laziness,"
cries for attention and closed bedroom doors behind which continuous music
plays, harmonised with the sound of dripping cries of loneliness.

Of which the belt is anxiety. My psychologist has given it a name: John. Its
supposed to make me feel like anxiety is some exterior force and not something fogging up my entire inside. But he's better known as:

"Sorry.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sorry.”

“I know I'm being annoying."

"Sorry.”

I try not to acknowledge it. So, I leave my pen clicking. hair fidgeting, periods of breathlessness and restless tendencies as just that; inconvenient tendencies. Sorry.

I've been told to pray and trust in faith, but I only wear a religious necklace because if I don't, I go home with a neck scratched raw by John.

I wrap myself in this coat for comfort, which seems ironic. But really, comfort is found in familiar places and it seems I keep losing my jackets of happiness and liveliness, so this coat is all I know.

There are some days I am so sad I don't remember what it's like not to be. Like when you're really sick and you forget how to breathe through your nose and you're so sure you'll never breathe through your nose again and I'm so sure I'll never feel joy again.

Except when you're sick, you can go and get a doctor's note to explain why you couldn't go to school and didn't write that test. I can't tell my coach I missed yesterday's practice because I got hit with a wave of sad. I can't tell you that my homework wasn't done because depression kept me tied to my bed for the better part of the day

My psychologist once told me I was brave to seek her help. I didn't feel brave. I felt scared. And desperate. And lonely. And tired. I am so tired of trying to take care of this terrible body that refuses to take care of me.

My depression doesn't ask for much but when it does it is something I cannot give and that is the joke. It is just me asking for something I cannot give. My friends get mad when I don't give them pieces of me. I can't give them something I'm not sure is there anymore.

I said
“It feels like my world is ending.”

And he said
“You will know what your world ending feels like when your biggest blessing is taken away from you.”

And without any remorse added
“Here, let me show you.”

i see us for what we really were.
i look at the mirage of memories and now see them shrouded by clouds.
we were not happy kids, making the best memories,
we were simply two people trying to make the best out of gloomy weather

As I stand still in the river,
the current pulling at my heels,
I hear you complain about the raging river that seems a trickle of water to me.

You talk about the water being too loud to think,
the water not being clear enough to see through,
the river becoming too deep.

And I laugh.

For once, I am proud of myself
as I inwardly recognize
that you would drow in the most shallow depths of my mind
that I have been swimming in for years.

you loved me better when we weren’t together.

As I lay in a tangle of sheets,
hands clutched over heart
as if shielding it from a dagger
that had already been stuck inside of it,

I marveled at how easy it was
for him to break me and my heart once and for all
when all I ever did
was give over my broken pieces

to make him whole.

i miss
the smell of you
and how
breathing it in
warmed me up;
like taking a sip
of my favourite coffee.

i miss
the feeling of you;
soft skin touching mine
and how
leaning into you
was like
climbing into soft, warm bed
after a long day.

i miss
your puppy brown eyes
that i could never resist
after looking into them for a second
and how
your eyelashes would flutter shut
when i couldn’t resist
running my finger along your cheek.

i miss
hugging you
and the feeling
of disappearing into you
when being in the world
became too much.

because of this
i find myself
living in my memories of you
the smell
and touch
and warmth
and comfort
of you
is not a very bad place to live.

perhaps
my love was never enough
to fix a broken boy and his heart.

perhaps
my love was never enough
because my heart was the one which needed fixing.

perhaps
my love was never enough
not for him, but for me.

my love was never enough
because i gave it all up to fix a heart that didn’t need fixing.

Cut them all off because I was feeling heavy.
Now I’m up in the clouds but I’m missing the ground.

A broken heart
is more than just
a broken heart
when his is broken too.

You’ve broken each other’s
and didn’t even want to.

i hope one day someone’s hand will feel as perfect in mine as yours did.
i hope one day my lips meet lips as soft as yours were.
i hope one day my body will fit perfectly into the arms of another.
i hope one day my heart will feel the butterflies again that left when you did.
i hope one day to experience a love that doesn’t compare.
a love that makes me realise
that love with you
isn’t the only love i will ever experience.

I sink into a pile of a mess,
my heart weighs me down.
I can’t bear the weight anymore.
A part of me from the past say “don’t worry, your heart will feel better.”
I’d rather not have a heart at all.

One thing I am slowly starting to realize is that we will always be in this so called dark place and we will never be able to drown our demons but that doesn’t mean the ocean won’t calm and we will be able to swim back up.

memories of you are tainted in ways i can’t describe.
ways that make me admit to having my first regrets.
ways that make my stomach twist in discomfort at the thought of you.
ways that make my heart ache while bursting up in flames.
hot
red
anger
at the memory of you.
how dare you hurt me in such a way
that memories in themselves,
a concept i once used to cherish above all else,
be twisted into things i despise.
i never had regrets. i only ever looked at memories with light in my eyes and a feather heavy heart.
until you.

identifying my toxic traits and fixing them,
gaining my independence,
finding comfort in myself in times of loneliness,
learning how to let go,
adapting to the idea of wishing the best for someone but not wanting anything to do with them.

all of that,
i can give thanks to you for.  

but the breaking down of the walls you caused me to build?

that i can only thank myself for.

i used to believe
the cracks and missing pieces caused by another
would keep me from being with the one who could love me properly.
but as time, healing and care often does to you after heartbreak,
i have learnt something.
"love" with no space is simply attachment.
the spaces and cracks left behind are how someone learns to truly love you.
these spaces provide room for patience, understanding, growth.
love.
i’ve realised that loving someone means caring for them in the space between.
to love someone is to fix them.
to water them in their cracks with peace and light all to watch them grow.
all to watch them heal
all to watch them realise what love is.
all to watch them learn how to love
with space in between.

some people
will bring out only the worst in you
and you will stay.
because part of the worst in you
is believing
that their approval and opinion
determines your worth.

you took a girl
you didn’t deserve
and broke her.
now she’s too damaged
to give her heart
to a man
who would know
how to love her right
because she thought
you could too.

there was a time i wrote about you daily,
putting into words the emotions attached to my belief of you being a guardian angel.
the pain,
the confusion,
the hope,
the faith.

but now months have passed
and i can’t help but think back on you
and realize that in due time, my guardian angel never reappeared.

i no longer have you,
my guardian angel seems to have turned a blind eye towards me,
my faith has long shriveled up,
my hope and trust in you and us has morphed into hopelessness,
my confusion is no longer towards why i was blessed with you and cursed with timing but rather towards the absence of you and all that you promised.

in due time, i was never blessed with my guardian angel returning, but rather having to learn how to live without one.

i am still deciding whether learning to live without you is a blessing or a curse.

One of the hardest challenges with writing
is the honesty in it.

Our whole lives we are taught to filter our thoughts,
make them psss through our minds before our mouths.

With writing, the whole point is to allow the words to come out unfiltered and raw.
We must enable them to come from the heart without passing through too much of our minds.

When they ask me why I stayed so long
I explain that because of you
I never ran out of things to write about.

Looking back,
I wonder whether all along
I was looking for a lover
or a writing prompt.

I’ve always been good at turning brutal, ugly pain into something beautiful and pleasing enough to be accepted by others.