carry on 5.7.25 (3:39 pm)
sure, maybe everything is going wrong
it’s always been ****** up
i was just too busy to notice

but we’ve always got to carry on
carry on,
carry on, hold your baggage close
hold a suitcase full of memories
wear a backpack full of grief
they might hurt your shoulders for now
but these kinds of things make you stronger

carry on,
carry the ones you love with you
carry on, always carry on

maybe you’ve lied
and maybe you’ll lie again
but we can forget and carry on

maybe you’ve betrayed me
and maybe you will again
but i can forgive
and carry on

carry on
because what else can we do?

[playing: imperfect for you by ariana grande]

too sad for words 6.21.25 (5:10 pm / 17:10)
i am just so sad sometimes
too sad for words

seasonal depression 6.20.25 (4:30 pm / 16:30)
summer makes me sad this year
i can’t remember if it’s always been this way
i feel empty without school even though that’s what made me like this

pointless without some kind of schedule and goal
it’s so peaceful now
but i’m alone with my thoughts
even this sadness is wrong
most people are more depressed in the winter
or so they say

i stopped drawing and my sketchbook is full of poems
in dying pen

summer makes me sad this year
the way i’ve changed so much i can’t even remember how i was
before

[playing: rocket ships by cavetown]

No lo sé.
Y nadie lo sabe.
Pero a veces…
cuando me duermo cansado del mundo,
siento que la muerte se parece a eso:
a rendirse con dignidad.
a soltar el cuerpo como quien suelta una mentira.

Pienso —en las madrugadas largas—
si la conciencia sobrevive al polvo.
Si lo que soy,
lo que fui,
y todo lo que callé…
viaja a algún lugar donde no hacen falta palabras.

¿Será que el alma se levanta
cuando el cuerpo se cae?

¿Será que despertar
es morir a este sueño llamado vida?

Tal vez morir
es volver a casa.
Tal vez nacimos dormidos,
y nos pasamos la existencia
recordando algo que olvidamos al llegar.

Y si al final…
todo esto —todo lo que siento—
es solo un reflejo en un charco,
una chispa breve en la oscuridad,
una pregunta que nadie responde
porque la respuesta no cabe en palabras.

Y sin embargo…
hay algo en mí
que no quiere desaparecer.

Algo que quiere mirar a los ojos
al misterio,
y decirle:
aún sin entenderte,
yo viví.

Derechos de autor ©️

~Daniii

I cradle hurricanes in my ribcage
while words swirl around my head.
I try to catch the good ones-
but mostly, I wish I was dead.

I do everything too much-
the joy, the sorrow, the dread.
Yet somehow, I’m never enough-
what a curious truth to be force fed.

If I laugh, it’s always too loud;
my mouth too sharp to make anyone proud.
Crying is a dangerous game,
I could sob away a city, drown in the blame.

My rage leaves no survivors,
as if I line people up on personal pyres.
When I vent, they hear preaching-
a sermon no one wants, a fear of my leeching.

I don’t love, I dissect-
obsessively search for the trap I expect.
I can’t just leave; I burn it all down-
the bubbly, funny girl wears a permanent frown.

I do too much and my inner child feels seen,
She's acting out, we aren't this mean
I just get scared when the vibe is off, and ruining the mood makes the blow more soft.

Despite the chaos I still crave love, an equal partner, wearing fireproof gloves.

I’m tired
I want to sleep
My brain is no longer wired
I’m weary
I’m done
The bed has won!

One day, you will return

to the moment you left yourself behind.

To touch the outline of your absence

like a photograph you forgot to frame.

You’ll gather the scattered Saturdays,
the drawings no one kept,
the questions you were too afraid to ask,
the stories no one stayed long enough to hear.

And you’ll remember the slammed doors,

the silence between two people who once made you,

the friend who stopped texting back,

the laughter that vanished from the room.

You’ll walk through those rooms again,

dust in the corners,
and sit beside the stranger,
your hand on his own shoulder.

Only this time,
you won’t hush his laugh.

You won’t close the door.

It will be as natural as breath,

as quiet as light through the curtains

of a house no longer haunted.
This time, you’ll tell him you’re here now.

Every door will open.

And the only thing heard through the hallways

will be the laughter of a child

and the stars in the night sky,

laughing along.

This time, you’ll stay.