.Sanctuary.
I offered it to you
And everyone
Anyone
When it was meant for me all along.

Someone save me from my own understanding

The consequences of your actions
Are a burden I suppose I asked for
When I agreed to belong to you
When I offered you sanctuary in my arms

Yet tonight - they are so heavy
And I no longer wish to carry them
My legs are so tired darling
Please just admit that you were wrong

My legs are so tired darling
Break the generational chain that binds us to this nonsense.

.Friday the twenty seventh of October at twelve thirty nine PM

-I am getting worse day to day, meaning that I am sad again. Real sad. Try anti-depressants even though they don't work sad. It's funny that I use that word since really it's empty that I feel . . . Or maybe hopeless. Call it whatever you want.
The thing about it though- is that I don't know who to tell. Half of everyone I know can relate which means no one even cares. I'm guilty of the same thing. "Just keep pushing it'll pass." Right? I love my job, my relationship is good, and we're financially stable. Nothing in my life is going wrong so I can't pass the blame onto some little problem. I spent nine hours cleaning my house on Wednesday hoping that I would feel better. I slept all day Thursday hoping that I would feel better. I wrote it down today hoping that I would feel better, but I don't. I don't feel better. Who am I supposed to call about things like this?

Not my sister because she's run out of things to say. There are only so many times you can be sad for no actual reason and expect someone to say something new. I decline therapy. It's expensive and I don't want to talk about a bunch of things that I've already gotten over, and pills? What are pills? I've been down that road and then down even further for . . ? Nothing. For nothing.


So what am I supposed to do when I'm carrying boxes and suddenly want to hurt myself? I've never been a cutter. Never been a burner. I want the weirdest kinds of pain. I want to snap a rubber band on my wrist or bite myself until I bleed. Crazy **** that doesn't make any sense to me. I work out everyday. I drink water. I bathe. I eat.

Honestly I'm really high functioning. I don't really spend a lot of time talking to other humans anymore, but I can chalk that up to losing my super empath powers I guess. I call it independence but it could just be exaustion. I'm so tired of self diagnosing. I can tell you what's wrong with someone else in thirty seconds flat yet somehow my own sadness continuously baffles me.

I guess it doesn't really matter. I'm not going to **** myself or do something crazy. I used to cheat on my boyfriend or let someone hit me during ***, but I've grown out of that kind of stupid behavior. For awhile I was writing essays about how to get through what I'm going through which were awesome for a lot of people but don't help me at all

Maybe I'm doomed to save everyone in the world other than myself. That would make sense since there's nothing I can do about my condition. If that's what I want to call it. So I guess maybe I'm just having a bad time.
I'm sure it will pass soon.

As I lay my head on your chest each night
I wonder if Adam’s heart beat the same way,
When Eve pressed her ****** body against his
Both of them dreaming - secretly- of heaven.
I wonder if Isolde kissed Tristan like I kiss you;
Drinking from him, as if their passion
Would douse hell’s fires instead of fuel them.
I wonder if Paris looked at Helen the way you look at me;
As if the world started and stopped in her eyes
And everyone’s fate hung from the curve of her lips.
I wonder if Samson was as trusting as you readily are
When Delilah tied him to the kitchen chair
And cut his strength away from him.
And as we drift off to sleep,
Hearts beating in (almost) perfect time,
I wonder if we are as doomed
As history’s great lovers-
If tragedy and true love are as intertwined
As we are between my sheets.
And while I know my dreams will be full
Of Prince Charmings that look like you,
I can never remember if the endings,
Always slipping away like sand through my fingers,
Are written by Disney, or the Brothers Grimm.

. . . Do you still love me when you are sleeping,
Then will I fit well in your arms?
All that anger you've been keeping,
With your eyes shut can it still do me harm?

I sit here beside you afraid to lie down,
My mind can't rest after everything you've said.
I'm afraid to wake you so I don't make a sound,
I'm not sure why I even came to bed.

I have given you everything but it's not enough,
I am so sad and I feel so alone,
I want to stay but you're making it tough,
I live here but I'm not at home.

Do you still love me when you are sleeping,
Or will you push me away.
Am I something you feel is worth keeping,
Or does it make me stupid to stay?

Do you still love me when you are sleeping . . .