I want to write a Haiku.⁣
But I don't know how.⁣
Maybe I'll try one every day⁣
And finally figure it out

What’s the point?
To struggle for the unknown
To suffer uncertainty

What’s the point?
To believe in a bright future
While living in the dark present

What’s the point?
To have people who care
Who only offer sympathetic stares

What’s the point?
To lose a bit of you everyday
Trying to build a fuller you for tomorrow

What’s the point?
To try and keep everyone happy
While feeling miserable inside

What’s the point?
To anything...

The abyss gets darker
The screams get louder
The pain intensifies
The confusion deepens
The situation worsens
The solutions stay blurry

I wasn’t trained for this war
Yet I’m fighting it
My opponent comes with ammunition
While I stand unprepared
Scared
Lost
Confused
Powerless
With all these shortcomings I still fight
The idea of giving up brings peace
But I know the act of it won't

I'm getting lost in the spiral
Relying on hope to pull me out

Strange is the power of fear
It engulfs you and your reasoning
Strange is the power of loneliness
It finds rescue in words
Strange is the power of heartbreak
It finds strength in emptiness

Being complete is probably bad for your art
To connect, you have to be broken
Life is funny that way

Today, I woke up to the idea of death
Such a peaceful thought
The kind of freedom that one fights for
And still don’t achieve.

My mind was convinced, but my body refused
Strange connection, this.
The mind demands something and the body denies
Yet they reside together harmoniously.
I looked out the window at the clear sky
And unwillingly got out of bed
Busying myself in the chores of the day
Avoiding the thoughts of death.

I know not the road I am on
I have no destination in mind
This route is unfamiliar to me and
This loneliness makes all of this seem worthless
In moments like these, I look for peace
A way to end this misery
After all, we all will die eventually

It’ll either be right, or it’ll be wrong
There is only one way to know.
And if you’re worried that this could be a mistake,
Then let’s make it the best ******* mistake of our lives.

There is a feeling inside my heart that’s hard to explain
A hole, an empty void
Whose presence I feel strongly

Having nothing can hurt deeply
It’s a feeling that ******
And doesn't stop pricking

Where will you run?
To failure, guilt, and hurt?
The emptiness will follow like a shadow

Sometimes you'll use words to let it all out
Other times everything will go numb

But the feeling of emptiness stays
Silently screaming
Asking to be filled

You ask how
It says figure out
The cycle is exhausting
So you quietly close your eyes
Hoping to escape from it all for a while
After all tomorrow is another day
And the sun might shine

Don't talk about your sadness,
They'll say you're an annoyance.
Don't talk about how terrified you are,
They'll say you're frustrating.
Don't talk about your struggles,
They'll tell you all about their triumphs.
Don't talk about what you're going through,
They won't understand.

Don't tell anyone anything.
Simply cause it's pointless.
Struggles of the dead are valued more than those who are alive.
Nobody wants to sit with you and hear your sad story.
They want you to toughen up and get over it.
And that's not what you want to hear.
So don't say anything to anyone.

Need plumbing? Call a plumber.
Need an apartment? Call a broker.
Need career help? Call a consultant.
Need love? The number you’re trying to call does not exist.

I'm tired of people telling me to stay patient
and get through it.

I'm tired of people asking me what is wrong with me.

I'm tired of people asking me what is it that I want.

I'm tired of people asking me how am I doing.

I'm tired of waking up.

I'm tired of surviving.

I'm tired.

The difference between you and me is my nightmares begin when I wake up.

My mind is fighting to end this suffering and my body is pushing to get through one more day.

I know I'm suppose to do a lot of things.

I know I'm suppose to write daily.

I know I'm suppose to read daily.

I know I'm suppose to be social.

I know I'm suppose to smile.

I know I'm suppose to be patient.

I know it all but I can't do it. I can't.
Why don't people understand that I just can't!

That I'm terrified of every living moment.

That I have panic and anxiety attacks.

And trying to get through those attacks while maintaining a decent demeanour consumes all my energy.

To be alone in this fight is difficult.

To die a bit every day is painful.

I can't tell you what is wrong with me.
I DON'T KNOW what is wrong with me!

I cry all day, everyday.

The screams inside me are deafening but my tears are silent.

I see the confidence with which you tell me I'm overreacting.
It saddens me that you can't see what I'm going through.

Things are not good and I don't have the sight to see them get better any time soon...

All I see is darkness.
All I want to do is sleep until it gets better.

My mind and body are at war with me and, this time, I think I'll just let them win.