Last night, I had a dream I was in a car about to fall off the edge.
I was terrified and didn't know what to do.
Everything felt out of my hands as I sat there and waited in pained anticipation for my demise.
As the car fell I didn't fight it.
I was languid and didn't move to save my own life.
All I felt was relief.
Finally, it would be over soon.
My terror was overridden with acquiescence, I didn't ever have to face another tomorrow.
It was ending, I was ending.
The abyss swallowed me up and I accepted it with a rueful smile.
But I ended up waking up just as I felt myself falling into the oblivion.
I came to my senses and realized I was alive, another day I was here for another day.
Maybe another day to fight was just what I needed.
Tomorrow; another day is never promised.

"If you start, it will get easier."
Words that I always tell myself as the hour's flow by in a promising light that gradually dims into complete darkness.
My eyes are always drawn to the clock and as each second passes my heart withers in dread.
I didn't realize how fast the time had gone by.
Last time I had checked the sun was still high up in the sky just like my expectations.
As I glance at the obligations I failed to accomplish I can only feel numb.
All my panic disappeared and in place left a hollow shell too spineless to stand on its own.
Just when I had expectations in myself I let myself down again.
A waste of a day.
A waste of a week.
A waste of a month.
A complete waste of a life.

Can I take a day?
I just can't do it, is that enough of an exuse?
I couldn't get up this morning because I felt like vomiting from the simple thought of interacting with others, is that even an exuse?
Is it ridiculous that I cried myself to sleep last night and couldn't get any sleep because of memories and moments that have been long gone for years?
I don't even know how I remembered those certain moments because I'm pretty sure everyone else forgot about that little insignificant slip up I am too cowardly to let go.
If my fingers shake from picking up the phone in order to make a phone call to call out, am I making a big deal out of what other people do so easily?
Is it odd the way I bite my nails in fear of social interactions or upcoming deadlines?
I wouldn't have to fear that deadline if I had just done my work on time but I'm left with extra mounds of work to finish because I got distracted and disheartened from finishing something so easy.
Did you know I lie awake looking at my wrists and wondering what it would be like to cut just one little line?
I swear it will be just one time I wouldn't want everyone to know I actually meant those suicidal jokes, that would just ruin the punchline don't you think?
Even if I feel not up to doing anything, does it matter?
Excuse me for being sensitive.
I apologize for not being like everyone else who has their life together.
I apologize for being such a disappointment to my family.
From the way I burned through books I bet they thought I was going somewhere, preferably harvard of course.
It didn't matter how lonely I was, the lack of friends meant that I wasn't out doing meaningless stuff like forming a connection with other people.
Oh dear me, I was the teachers pet in middle school every adult loved me.
They had high expectations for me.
It didn't matter that I was isolated and considered the oddball.
They thought I was a genius.
Their approval was the only thing that was relevant about me.
Imagine the surprise it was that I didn't get straight A's.
Harvard never sent me an email of acceptance.
I was simply anxiety ridden me.
What a disappointment, they expected me to go to some prestigious university and discover the cure to some fatal illness.
I was supposed to go places.
I am deeply sorry, if I cry could I be excused?
So considering all of that and so much more, can I take a day?

I have too many unfinished sentences.
They've all molded together in my mind and won't leave.
I don't have a way of letting them go, my mind is going against myself.
I don't have the willpower.
I am not strong enough to defend myself against the callous words of my own creation.
Too many words linger and make home in my deteriorating mind.
The unfinished sentences became a paragraph.
It never ended.
The paragraph got bigger and bigger until it became pages long.
Before I knew it I had a novel of unsaid words in my mind, looking for some kind of output.
Each time, i would let go of my pen and remain silent.
I didn't have a clear grasp on my emotions so I let all stay in mind without any escape.
I didn't even cry.
I kept it all bottled in and let it fester until it became an infection that contaminated my entire body.
The tears came out one way or another but it wasn't enough.
I needed something else.
I needed a refrain.
But it was never there.
He was never there.
They were never there.
Somewhere was actually nowhere.
It was all I could come up with.
It was all I ever could ever write.
It's all I ever see.
I'm sorry was all it ever became, simply unfinished.

My voice, at times, is quiet.
As quiet as late-night rain which you don't even realize fell until traces of raindrops fall from an overhanging tree and softly caress your face.
My voice, at times, is loud.
As loud and unceasing as a heartbeat, always heard in the corner of your mind.
My voice, at times, is silent.
As silent as the streets late at night when you feel most invincible with just the moon and the stars by your side.
Somehow my silence is loudest out of all I've said.
My voice and words are always looked past yet my silence is the only thing worth commenting on.
"Are you angry?"
Does it even matter much?
Do you even care?
I just want to drown in my emotions why can't I be left alone?

The intensity in your eyes would always send me reeling.
I couldn't match your stare because it always took my breath away.
I consider myself easily moved and didn't want to go off the deep end with your eyes always the last thing I saw before falling into the oblivion that is my emotions.
But ultimately, easily manipulated me fell into the oblivion that was your eyes.
It was expected with how beautiful you were.
Brown eyes that were more nerve-wracking to meet than looking down large heights.
I was in over my head ever considering you were looking my way purposely.
You spoke of love in a skeptical way as if it was impossible to find.
At that moment, all I could hear was a love song asking you to come my way or at least look my way.
You never did.
Disappearing suited you.
It reminded me of those days before I met you and I knew that was all I would ever get: blank stares and silence.

I wonder if I meant anything to you.
To this day I can only seem to piece together a few conversations but I still cannot seem to understand or trust what you said.
You were a breath of fresh air yet I somehow had trouble breathing.
Overthinking every little word I lost nights of sleep.
I wonder if you had trouble sleeping sometimes.
I know you did have trouble sleeping but was it ever because of me?
Did the memories ever come back to you and force you to lay awake reminiscing what never was?
Did your eyes ever close shut in bliss at the mere happiness of knowing I existed?
I wonder if you felt something.
Anything.
Do you remember our conversations?
Do you at least remember me from time to time?
How much I would give to know.
All I'm left to wonder nowadays is how much my life would be better if you were here.
But all I'm left with is memories that are slowly dying and drifting away like a leaf in autumn.