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  Jan 22 Mariya
Peter Gerstenmaier
I can feel the rough rope
Gently caressing my neck
Embracing it like an old friend
I'm not afraid, I'm just tired
So very tired of everything

So I take a deep breath, 1, 2, 3...
And in a passionless swift move
I kick the bench under my feet
Dance in the air for a little while
Until I finally find my peace
Note 1: this poem was reported and taken out of HP. After a review, it went back on (gladly Eliot York has more sense than the one who flagged it).
Note 2: if you're having this kind of thoughts, please, talk about it. Seek help!
Original note: Another nightmare I had last week. Woke up sweating and frantically kicking the air.
It's not like suicide is a new thing to me - I attempted it when I was 15... but I haven't had suicidal thoughts in many years. And that's as scary as it gets. I don't wanna give in to them.
  Jan 22 Mariya
Peter Gerstenmaier
Gazes magnetically meet
Across the crowded room
A slight touch of hands as we
Pass through the hallway
I steal a kiss when
No one's around

P.s. no one can know
About a girl I hurt a lifetime ago...
  Jan 22 Mariya
Peter Gerstenmaier
My friends used
To always be around
Good times, bad times
It didn't really matter
Every day was a new
Exciting adventure

Fast forward 10 years
Our group is scattered
All over the world and
We've become merely
Memoirs to reminisce
On my insomnia nights
Realized I don't have any friend left. Did my depression took the best of me? Did I become that dull? Or that's just how being a grown up supposed to be? I really couldn't say...
I never felt more alone.
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