"you give too much. you're a good person, really. but you give too much. you never want others to feel as alone or as unimportant as you do, so you give & give & give so they can feel good. but in the process, you're only teaching them that you aren't worthy to receive. you're giving & giving & giving & hardly ever giving yourself a chance to receive. so people get used to that. people get used to you giving so much that they feel like they don't even have to try anymore. i know all you know how to do is give... you give without expecting anything in return except genuine appreciation. but then you get sad when you realise giving so much has left you feeling empty because you've given so much to others that you have nothing left to give to yourself. you give too much... there is such a thing as giving too much. continue giving, but realise that there's limits to how much you can give others. stop giving to the point where you feel used, unappreciated & empty. give freely... but there are limits in that giving. you give too much... i think that it's time you gave to yourself."

— dear self, stop giving so much.

being dead inside is a paradox.
a contradiction. polar opposites.
you feel nothing at all, but at the same time you're feeling something.
there are no intense emotions yet, feeling so dead inside is an intense emotion in itself.
you're comforted by the fact that you won't feel any bad emotions but
at the same time, you're dissatisfied because you won't feel any good emotions either.
being dead inside is great when your lover leaves you, when your friend dies, when everything comes crumbling down at once ... because you won't feel it as much.
being dead inside is terrible when your lover tries to kiss you, when your friend invites you on a vacation, when everything starts coming together ... because you won't feel it as much either.

i fell for the quirky guy
with messy hair
& an even messier heart.

a romance on the beach.
the sea breeze hitting my face.
your kisses tasting salty.
sand massaging my toes
as your arms touch my waist.
your smile brighter than the
orange-ish red sunset
with a tinge of tangerine
& a few other colours i
can’t quite make out.
my hair in my face, your soft & gentle but manly hands pushing it out of my face.
that smile again.
your eyes closed, taking a deep breath
as if you’re trying to smell the essence of my soul.
that slight lean as you push forward.
my giggle as your soft lips touch mine.
our lips moving in unison, rhythmic like two lovers making love.
my ***** thoughts.
your smile again.
my smile as you whisper “you’re mine.”
a romance on the beach.
a girl can only dream…

— @beeyroyce.

i once heard a story about a man who healed people for a living.
he'd make them laugh & mend their hollow, broken souls.
he'd assist them with their problems until they started to feel whole.
but in his mending of other people, he'd break inside every day,
as he used the substance his soul was comprised of
to glue the broken souls together.
until one day, he had none.
he had become so broken & empty that he felt he couldn't go on.
he went to a spiritual advisor & told him about his depression.
the spiritual advisor said, "there is a man named The Healer down the road that can make you laugh & heal your soul so that you may feel whole. go to him."
the man started crying & said, "but... i am The Healer."
he spent his whole life healing.
... but who heals the healer?
who nurses the nurse?
who listens to the one who's always listening?
we that take care of others must face a horrible reality  —

that no one can take care of us.

nothing really excites me anymore.
it's either everything has changed & i've remained the same
or everything is stagnant & i've changed so drastically that
i just don't fit in this environment anymore.
i'm like a fish that's been over fed
& this pond is too small & dull for me now.
i need to be thrown into the ocean.
i belong in the ocean.
dear universe, throw me into the ocean...

don't fall for me,
i'm a mess.
i'm going to drag you into my mess.
i told him...
but he didn't listen.
& now he's broken & wondering how it happened.
but didn't your mother warn you,
not to fall for girls with fiery hearts?
because everything we touch burns.
now you're burning,
& all i can do is watch.

a woman
appreciates a man
that can penetrate
her mind
deeper than her body.

i'm so tired of meaningless conversations with meaningless people...
i'm so tired of meaningless kisses...
i'm so tired of meaninglessness...

can't i just invest my energy in one person that really deserves it,
rather than dividing myself to temporary flings
that don't even feed my soul?

some people can’t handle hard liquor because “it’s too strong.”
you’re the human version of ***, *****, whiskey…
don’t water yourself down.
find someone that can handle you at 100% proof.

— @beeyroyce.

you treat yourself like a wounded animal.
you’re drowning in your own blood,
demons rather.
your wounds fester & rot & your demons escape & drown you.
you don’t know why you got shot or why you deserve such pain.
you don’t know why you got caught in the headlights.
so you wallow in a pool of red, your demons.
as they taint your skin crimson
& leave your soul hollow.
you live life on the ground
because reality’s a hard pill to swallow.
you’re waiting to be put out of your misery.
you want to die, to end it all.
or you’re waiting for someone to come along & pick you up, poor wounded animal.
someone to stop the bleeding, fix up your wounds & make you okay again.
you’re waiting for someone to make you whole.
you’re waiting for someone to stop your demons from drowning you
but you’ll be waiting a lifetime drowning in your demons waiting for someone to throw you a life jacket.
we either wait or we die…
or we save ourselves. the lucky ones, i suppose…
it is said an animal would rather bite its own paw than die in an animal trap.
we who save ourselves, crawl away from the car that hit us. take out the arrow that hit us. bite off the leg that’s caught in the trap so we can survive.
we who wait for someone to save us end up bleeding to death.
& those of us that want to end our misery either do it, or live our entire lives wishing we had.
survival instinct… bite off your paw to save yourself from the animal trap for none can save us but ourselves.

the day someone loves me unconditionally,
perhaps like my cat does...
i will know that it's
REAL.

i smiled & he rubbed his soft fur against me.
i laughed, loud, cackling  — out of breath  —
& he rubbed his soft fur against me.

i screamed in anger, i cursed, i banged doors.
i broke objects & felt the anger move through
my veins.
& he rubbed his soft fur against me.

i clutched my stomach, unable to sleep.
anxiety running at an all time high.
eyes blood shot from a lack of sleep.
a nervous wreck i was.
& he rubbed his soft fur against me.

i paid no attention to him,
burying my head in a ton of books
in an attempt to see A's on my report card.
& he rubbed his soft fur against me.

i grabbed a razor & let it get acquainted with my skin.
i let it paint streaks of red lines
& form a red waterfall down my arms & thighs.
i grabbed a bottle of alcohol & downed it in one go,
with a bunch of pills in my hands.
i looked at him & said, "i hope somebody takes care of you when i'm gone."
& he titled his head
& rubbed his soft fur against me.

perhaps we all once knew how to love like animals,
unconditionally...
but it seems the older we get, the more brain capacity we acquire
as our heart's capacity to love decreases.

sometimes i hate how
i can put my life on hold
& forget about my own well being
just to solve someone else's problems...

all the time, i say to myself:

"i am not jesus...
i am not buddha...
i cannot save everybody."

they call it being "kind"
but they don't know that helping people
but being unable to help yourself
can be a form of self destruction too.

there are different types of drunk.
i remember the one where i was jumping around and dancing,
oblivious to my suffering.
singing along to song lyrics, having them hypnotize me as the alcohol flowed deeper
into my bloodstream.
it was almost as if i was high but i hadn't touched any ****.
happy, happy, happy, was all i could be.
happy drunk.

then there's the drunk where you're clutching a bottle of alcohol in your hand.
sitting in a corner, with bloodshot eyes.
crying, you're feeling all your suffering all at once.
crying along to sad lyrics, having them accentuate your sadness and
remind you of your depression.
it was almost as if i was cutting but i hadn't touched any razors.
sad, sad, sad, was all i could be.
sad drunk.

she is not the kind of girl
that deserves to be left out in the cold...
she is not the kind of girl
that deserves to be taken for granted....

yet she'll set herself alight to keep someone else warm.
yet she'll allow herself to be forgotten, just to see someone else smile.

she is not the kind of girl that deserves to be treated this way.
maybe she'll get what she really deserves some day.

to think i thought you were too good for me
but in the end i realized
it was the other way around
it was i,
who was too good for your mind games.
it was i,
who was too good to be treated like that.
it was i,
who was too good to feel unworthy.
it was me all long,
who was too good for you.

i'm a bit of a *******.
if you hurt me, somewhere in the back of my mind...


i'll be begging you to hurt me again.

sitting in their room:
somebody's looking at a bunch of pills.
staring at a stack of razors.
holding a thick belt in their hand.
or just thinking, contemplating to end it all.
but then suddenly, they think of you.
your smile.
the dimple on your cheek that appears when you smile.
oh god, that beautiful smile.
your touch.
the feeling they get when your soft yet strong hands caress ex their body.
feeling like they're floating, reliving that moment.
your voice.
that sweet voice that asks, "how are you today?" & says "i love you" & "i'm sorry" when they wrong you.
that sweet, sweet voice.
sweet enough to calm monster within.
your hair.
the way it feels. how it curls up when it's wet after you take a swim.
how you hate it when they touch your hair.
your love.
the way you're willing to understand them.
even though you don't, you are willing.
someone, somewhere, could throw those pills away,
throw those razors away,
choose to adorn that thick belt on their waist instead of on their neck,
& choose to hold on.
all because they thought of you.

— @beeyroyce.

i fill myself up with liquor
only to find that i'm still empty.
people fill me up with expectations & every time they fail
they pour a portion of my soul out into the gutter
& i'm still empty.
lovers pursue me with sweet words & fill me up with dreams of a perfect romance & when it ends my heart breaks, spilling out the few drops left of my soul,
making me emptier than before.
i nourish friendships using the substance from my soul
only to watch them dwindle & die leaving my soul substance-less
& i'm still empty.
i write this poem with the hope that maybe, just maybe it can make me feel whole again but
i'm still empty.

— @beeyroyce.

i've been listening to the same sad songs on repeat
& they're plunging me deeper into the abyss.
yes, i know only i can save me
but maybe i don't wanna be saved...

anymore.
maybe i just want to burn,
to burn in this abyss i now call home.

we were in love & it was beautiful.
god, it was so beautiful.
it was amazing.
but it wasn't real...
fake roses are beautiful too, you know.
but they aren't real.

i have too many scars on my back.
...from all the knives people have stuck in it.

our parents were broken by their parents
who were broken by their parents.




& now they break us.

"they always leave.
they always leave.
they always leave.
they always leave.
they always leave."

i said to myself over & over again...
so that when you eventually leave, i'm not as hurt.

it's your fault things ended up the way they did.
you could've kept it real from the jump...
neither of us would've invested emotions where we shouldn't have.
& now you have me running around in circles, confused.
wanting me to still pine over you
when you know **** well it's been a while since i was through.
you want me, then you don't.
you wanna be my friend, then you want more than friendship.
when you're the one that sold me dreams of a relationship.
i said it's your fault things ended up the way they did.
steady searching for a man but instead i fell for a kid.

they ask me questions like "why is it so hard for you to trust?"

i don't reply.

i merely think...
well, i was ***** at 5.
i was abandoned by my father, sometimes my mother & my family.
i have been cheated on by "lovers" & backstabbed by "friends."
every time i trusted: i got *****, i got abandoned, i got cheated on & back stabbed.
every time i trusted, i got hurt.
how are you ask me why it's so hard for me to trust...

i feel like i'm searching for him in every guy i speak to.
but they never measure up.
conversations with other people just seem so dull & boring...
i wonder if he feels the same?
i doubt he feels the same.

i think i was created
                to

b       r       e        a         k

                so
that other people may feel
           WHOLE.

dear diary,

if i speak about the good **** in my life,

i'm "bragging" or i'm "cocky."

if i speak about the bad **** in my life,

i'm "depressing" & "negative."

sincerely,
i never know what to tell people about my life.

i
can
never
win.

they'll ignore your pain while you're alive.
but come to your grave with bouquets of flowers when you're dead.

& i find it so sad...
that they only take your sadness seriously
when you've survived an attempt or
when you're actually

... dead.

why do we leave the ones that'll do anything to see us smile,
for the ones that love to watch us bleed?

"but i care about you."
he said ...

       after i heard through the

g r a p e v i n e

       that he'd shared our energy with another.
he had ****** himself within her & she moaned his name
... probably.
& while he's sleeping peacefully, here i am,
rolling in bed, going insane.

"but we have a good thing together."
he said...

       after i saw a text come through his phone,
       it read

i m h o r n y b a b e, w h e n u c o m i n g t o s e e m e ?
    
       right then & there i wished i was blind
& i felt the tears run down my face.
i just didn't understand, how love,
something that's supposedly so beautiful...
could cause me so much pain.

"but i love you."
he said...

        as he tugged on my arm, his eyes screaming

p l e a s e d o n ' t g o

         but his actions being the antithesis of that.
& that's when i realized, i'd given him the power
to constantly break me.
break me &

B R E A K me, until i believed i was nothing.

"but i care about you."
"but we have a good thing together."
"but i love you."
i doubt i'll ever believe those lies again.

out of her mother's fertility factory she was birthed
item number... i mean, person number one.
a barcode? she had none.
quickly thrown onto a conveyor belt
& then into a box.
in a box she was raised.
no sign of care from the others was conveyed,
despite the box she found herself so uncomfortably stuck in clearly marked
"FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE."
but still they shook the box &
didn't care about it's contents.
they'd throw the box from on stranger to another without concern.
they lit her insides on fire & still questioned why she'd burn.
they watched her whole self to up in flames
& still wondered when she'd return.
& got ****** when her shards cut through their skin,
despite them being the reason why she was so broken.
they kept asking why she was so "softly spoken."
an aptly named adjective after continuously tossing her around
like a soiled tissue on the playground in a little boys hand,
the girls screaming "eww, don't touch me!"
don't touch me. they didn't want to be touched by her,
don't touch me. she didn't want to be touched by them either.
don't. touch. me.
& so they tossed her to the side,
inside the delivery truck to deliver her to her destination
& to the shopkeeper's dismay, this item, i mean person was so broken
"nobody would want this." he said as he frowned
& removed her from the box,
he tossed her in the corner of his storage room, just like the others.
old, forgotten & useless,
with a new label, "DISCARD" written over "FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE."
& discarded she was.
for no one would ever want

a broken soul.

& all this time,
it was i who was selling myself dreams.
imagining a future with someone
that was only in love with me

in my dreams.

i told him “don’t look at me,
there’s nothing to look at.”
he went on about how beauty
can’t just be skipped over
& how i had his head spinning
like after a heavy night of drinking,
like he’s experiencing a hangover.

i told him “don’t touch me,
i know you’ll eventually leave me
& leave my body shaking from withdrawals…
shaking…
aching… to feel your touch again.”

i told him “don’t kiss me,
i don’t wanna get lost in your lips
& when our lips part, i’d probably have fallen in love .
i’ll probably stay awake in bed,
day dreaming of you… of us.”

i told him “don’t make love to me.
not even if i’m in the heat of the moment & i beg you to mount me
and enter my sweet sanctuary.
not even if i plead.”

i told him “don’t love me. leave me,
because you all leave eventually.
i don’t want your sweet nothings.
i don’t want your empty promises,
i don’t want your i-love-yous,
neither do i want to buy the dreams
you’ll so skillfully sell to me.
you’ll love me, i’ll love you back.
somehow i’ll end up loving more
& that’s a ****** fact.
somewhere between the first ‘i love you’ and the silence before it ends
will be me trying to make amends.”

i told him “don’t bother, just leave now.”
because that’s what they all do.
they love you,
& then
they leave you…

i'm so tired
of people using me to

        v a l i d a t e

       their existence.

looking at your pictures..
all i feel is a deep sense of disappointment.
it could've been you.
**** it, it should've been you.
but you didn't want it to be you.
& so i'll let go of the expectations
& all the hopes i had of us being together
as i press "DELETE"
& get rid of all the pictures i have of you.

i was pretty with a great personality.
i was understanding, patient & kind.
i was a freak in the bedroom.




... but it still wasn't enough for him.


— signed,
never good enough.

there's only one reason why
one should not like reading...

you can't be apart of this amazing, fictional world
that exists in your head when you're engulfed
in a book.

you're stuck here in a
MONOTONOUS
reality.

you hope that being around other people will help you fill the hole in your heart but it only leaves you emptier than before. with the last substance that your soul is comprised of dripping onto the floor as you try to salvage what's left of it. you're alone, my dear. & it couldn't be more evident than when you're with other people. when you try to fill the hole with other people's presence.

— @beeyroyce.

i deserve a me.
i deserve a friend like me.
i deserve a lover like me.
i deserve someone that treats me how i've been treating everyone, even those that didn't deserve my love.

do not treat yourself like an item,
constantly bargaining so
people can see your worth.

we have no regard for each other's emtoions.
we treat each other like items.
we use each other until we're tired.
& then we move on to find another to use...

the world is just so depressing.
so much pain.
so much injustice.
so much cruelty.

i wonder,
can my kids live in this world?

"nobody wants broken things...

so who would want a broken person?"

—  she thought.

dear young girl:

REMEMBER  — you have lived perfectly before him & you will continue to do so when he's no longer around.

i always attract broken souls.
because broken attracts broken.

i guess he chose her over me...

       they a l w a y s do.

all the time,
they tell her that
she "deserves better"
yet nobody is willing
to give it to her.