The last few days
have been those dreams you had
as a child, falling off cliffs but never really
crashing.
There are bad days and then there are exceptional ones. Those that feel like fingernails dragging on a small chalkboard in your head. Like life slowly leaving your favourite feng shui plant.
You shut your eyes
and beg for it to stop.
but the hamster keeps running on its wheel and the hourglass fills up with sand.
A bird in a golden cage, you sit pretty
and wait for the sun.
What else is there?

A new day,
beautiful.
You pray,
no more bad days.
No headaches from overthinking, no scraped nail polish from all the chewing
Enough!
So you go up
Up to the gold in the sky
And let your wildest laugh
set a fire so bright that
darkness lays down its shroud
and gives way to songbirds
to come perch on your shoulder and whisper
sweet love songs in your ear until
you learn to dream of fairy lights on the beach again.
Or so hope.
What else is there?

Waking up to a heavy chest
My body begging me to sleep again
And my anxiety begins the second I realize I'm alive
I'm trying to learn to function
With all of this negative energy inside me
I know it'll pass and
I know it'll get better
But right now it hurts
I feel unloved
Unloveable
I feel lost inside myself
A place I can't stay too long
Before I lose my mind
I can tell myself I'm worth it and
That my worth isn't defined by others
And it works for a bit
Until something else comes up and
My heart loses its energy
And I either feel like giving up
Or ready to fight everyone

I can't sleep
Everytime I remember your words
They snap and recoil
And hurt me awake
Next time when someone
Promises me forever
I'll just smile
Look them in the eyes and ask
How long is forever to you.

I see you’re gone. Turned your back again. Left me just that little bit more. It frees me. Frees me to write again. You see, I’d stopped. I didn’t want to affect you any more. I didn’t want you to feel compelled to come here and wallow in my pain. So I’d resisted the urge to write. But now you’ve severed that cord.  Were you set free? Do you feel this? I’d be surprised if you feel anything anymore. Ghosting me is your super power.

This place is mine again. For me to write. Alone.