I find an element of peace
and hope in my slumber.
The moon, she speaks to me
in a lost language that only we
seem to understand.
She feeds me the bitter-sweetest
of dreams
that slice my heart in shreds
when I awake.

I've dreamt of loving arms around me
I've wished for soft lips upon my cheek
I've hoped for hands searching for me

I dreamt and felt strong caring arms around me
but when I woke,
I found I was only holding
myself.
And I can feel myself put so much distance between everyone who cares about me that I feel like I'm floating out to sea with my bed as a raft.

The Moon,
she does not care about my real life
only my dream life.
Now I'm a trembling addict
who never wants to leave wonderland,
because my waking leaves me so miserable,
and yearning for something more.
I get ravenous, beastly
sometimes maybe, delirious.
I forget who I am,
but it feels so nice not being me.

I leave her letters and wishlists,
in places I know she'll shine,
In hopes that she'll marry me one day.
because it's not the falling that hurts
it's the landing
so save me from heartbreak
and keep me falling

There is a house on Southeast Bank.
It simmers as it has done since the 1900s,
it's been derelict for at least a decade now.
Sometimes, the local teens hangout and drink underage
but mostly it sits
Patiently.

There is a living room in the house.
The house that sits on Southeast Bank.
A leather reclining armchair lays, sprawled across the carpet.
A carpet in which the previous mother of the house would've claimed "costs hundreds" and "came from Egypt".

As daylight stretches toward the bookcase.
The bookcase in the room,
The room in the house,
the house that sits on Southeast Bank.
It's not unexpected to see
all the dust that flitters in the air
dancing to the tune of what was once life
a place for the living.
Reminders that once there may have been a family here.
But who knows.

Who knows what happened to them,
did the kids grow up too fast?
Did the parents split up?
Did someone die before their time was due?
And it's all written in the dust.
The dust that haunts the bookcase
the bookcase in the room,
the room in the house,
the house that sits on Southeast Bank.

Tomorrow told me no, Promised me.

"I will be better"
He lied.

Yet I always fall for those promises, always let a glimmer of hope tell me:
"the sky /can/ clear and the sun will shine again"

So tell me...
Why am I stood out in the rain, still too depressed to care about my shivering?

I've wasted so many 'I love you's' on the wrong person that I can't say it anymore.

I choke.

Unless, I am drunk.
But let's face it I love everyone when I'm drunk.

I go places where no one knows my name, for once I can live my fantasy of being /THAT/ girl -
mysterious, cool, no one.
And no one knows my flaws.

I go so long being no one I forget my own name,
and I love it.
I relish in the feeling that I can be non-existent without dying.
Because I'd rather be literally anyone than whoever I am right now.
Nobody here knows how terrible I am at communicating my emotions.
How horrible I am.

Leave me alone long enough and I'l create my own friends, family, pets and even love interests.
I will break my own heart in more ways, you'll never know -
You'll never understand!
How lovely and torturous it is to be this lonely.

To go through 5 relationships in one day and to be the source of all your own suffering, yet still find ways to place your anger in a bottle of wine.

You see, because I was never in love with you.
I fell in love with the idea of you.

It's weird how our worst memories can be the most clearest, how the pain can last a life time no matter how hard you try to forget.

How our experiences shape us into the person we are destined to be and how we have no control over that,
was I always supposed to be so lost?
                                                  - desperate?
                                                  - lonely?
                                                  - ashamed?

Learning of the skeletons in our closets, some we didn't know existed.
yet I'm the one left feeling like I'm in the wrong, I'm the outsider, the alien, the intruder. I shouldn't be here.

And yet I'm so loved and loved like I belong exactly where I am.

Today was mediocre.
Today reminded me and told me how lonely and unlovable i think I am.
It almost convinced me to stay in bed all day,
but despite how warm and comforting my bed was i fought my way out.

I had 3 guys and 1 girl message me today and I almost fell into the love trap. But I didn't!
I have got to stop falling in love with people who give me the smallest amount of attention.
I can't help my empty hands that have a tendency to reach out to anyone who is willing to hold on,
they always forget how quickly people let go.

My diary told me to distract myself, to do the things I should have done weeks ago.
The unfinished to-do lists which were screaming for me to do that one thing I said I was going to do every day for the last 2 weeks!
So I did,
I've been meaning to start that essay and pull my broken pieces into a coherent mess.

Tomorrow will tell me to love myself.
To take it easy, you're only human.
Not to bother wondering why you're in this state. But why?

Well.
I kissed my loneliness instead of you then welcomed it with open arms.

And the more distance you put between us/ the better i feel.
It lessens the fire of rage in me.
It grounds me.
And all this distance, i can finally turn around and look forward.
But I'll always know you will be there/ just over the horizon and i hope you're not there waiting for me.
Thank you.

Thank you for making me not afraid to love again.
Thank you for loving me at some point
Thank you for making me feel special
Thank you for cheating on me
Thank you for breaking me, I now realise how the aftershock of withdrawal has made me a better person.
Thank you for being strong enough to move on from me.