Staring at death right in face.
I never would have imagined what it feels like to loose everything.
I never thought I would know what empty space felt like.
I never thought it would end up being me.
The girl with everything figured out now has dark thoughts. Is always haunted by thoughts and feeling nothing.
I never thought I wouldn't be able to breathe, but it feels as if life is suffocating me.
So I drink. I drink to fill the void. But it never seems to leave me alone.
There's no one to turn to except the monsters in my head. Burning every bridge. So I stand on the opposite side and watch them go up in flames.
I stand there in hopes that maybe someone will hear my cries.
But if a depressed girl screams and everyone is around to hear it,
Did she really scream at all?
Are you alive? Or just breathing?
To judge whether I'm alive or just simply breathing is significant.
For seasons I've been heaving through corrupt lungs,
trying to find the little piece that will save me.
I've been breathing for as long as I can remember.
Maybe this drowning will subside and I can finally be alive.
Months have made me more alive.
Each day living and feeling everything. Alive feels so free and up lifting.
But here I am again.
Questioning in this very moment whether I'm alive or just breathing. And I think at this point I'm just trying to make my chest rise through the night.
It feels so good to be alive.
I just want to get back to the me that never had to remind myself to breathe.
I want it to be an automatic and harmonious inhale of life.
Both broken souls
scavenging for the most minuscule piece
that will make us whole again.
The problem now
is that I found my missing piece and you're still rummaging through my heart.
You are consuming.
you will never understand the gravity of your words.
your intentions out of pure lust
and mine, out of pure love.
A seven deadly sin.
Always tormenting me.
She is a beauty. Blonde effortless straight hair radiating sun and glowing endlessly. Soft brown eyes that warm the heart. It must be hard to resist. Since the days have begun to chill the body and the nights seem to chill the soul.
Me, I have brown hair traced with hints of pale gold. My eyes are hazel and contrast my newly pale skin. I am dark and mysterious.
Your ties are renewed
and the slight touch of her fingers tracing your back or the ends of your hair running through her fingers is an instant stab to my chest. My lungs are shutting down and the cold air makes it hard.
I am not like the sun.
I'm cold, distant, and a mistake.
I am a waste of time and effort.
I'm aggravated and livid.
Everything is temporary in life.
The people we interact with and the things that make us content.
It just makes no sense to me. Why must it be this way? Why must we resort to the excuse of "things just didn't work out" or "the timing was wrong" or "we grew apart."
It is ludicrous to live this way, yet we choose to every day of our lives.
If things didn't work out with a relationship, do not grow apart simply because it is awkward to remain friends.
***** that theory.
You just lack the ability to see that it is all in your mind. Nothing is awkward about that situation unless you decide to make it awkward. And to the friends that used to be really close but fate pulled them different directions. Do not resort to the temporary nature of friendships. They are meant to last so it is up to you to make it happen.
I'm so sick of the good things leaving for no reason.
If something makes your heart smile and eyes light up like the sky, please do not ever let it go.
Do not fall subject to the temporary life.
I've come to realize that no one knows. No one knows a **** thing on this earth.
They don't know what it's like to be you.
Nor will they ever understand.
No one can see what's deep beneath my heart. Some try to rummage through my body or scratch the surface of my skin attempting to find it my lungs, in my ribs, in my soul.
But where it lies is in my mind.
For these are where my fears reside.
The center and roots of my problems.
My thoughts are ones to ****. And they make their way each day down to my soul scratching. Trying to break open the barrier. They are darkness attempting to conquer my soul. To capture and enslave it. They play tricks and toil with me. Making me believe that this is the only way out. They strangle my lungs and force my ribs to crush the very thing it is trying to protect...
My hands each day reach out to the universe. Hoping something will grab me and pull me up but each day I get a little bit further out.
Soon the black will consume me.
And I'll be too far to reach.
Suspended in darkness too bleak to see.
But nobody knows.
No one will ever know what it's like to be me.
— The End —