It's here, again.
I hate it when it comes.

I don't like to cry but this time the tears go down trough my cheeks even if I try to stop them.

It's so powerful.
I'm exhausted.

I don't even feel sad, nor angry.
I don't feel pain, definetly I'm not happy.

I feel nothing, but a hole in my chest.

i hate to see you this way.
You are my best friend,
i am yours.

You can't just die.
Dying isn't going to fix you,
or heal you.

i want to help you,
but i can't.

Our lives are so deeply intertwined,
but we are both so broken.

I want to hold you and tell you that
everything is going to be okay,
but the truth is,
it's not.

You say you want to die.
You say no one will care,
no one understands you.

Well, what about me?
We are One. I can feel your heart
pound in my chest. I can also feel as you
tear it to shreds.

So if you die,
what about me?

I will die.
You can't leave the autumn leaves that crunch beneath
Our feet.
You can't vanish from all the photos We took, the memories
We share.

FOR ****'S SAKE WE ARE ONE

If you leave this world,
you'll leave it a murderer.
because at the moment Your heart stops in
My chest
i will die.

Aug. 13. 1653.

Lord in thine anger do not reprehend me
Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct;
Pity me Lord for I am much deject
Am very weak and faint; heal and amend me,
For all my bones, that even with anguish ake,
Are troubled, yea my soul is troubled sore
And thou O Lord how long? turn Lord, restore
My soul, O save me for thy goodness sake
For in death no remembrance is of thee;
Who in the grave can celebrate thy praise?
Wearied I am with sighing out my dayes.
Nightly my Couch I make a kind of Sea;
My Bed I water with my tears; mine Eie
Through grief consumes, is waxen old and dark
Ith’ mid’st of all mine enemies that mark.
Depart all ye that work iniquitie.
Depart from me, for the voice of my weeping
The Lord hath heard, the Lord hath heard my prai’r
My supplication with acceptance fair
The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping.
Mine enemies shall all be blank and dash’t
With much confusion; then grow red with shame,
They shall return in hast the way they came
And in a moment shall be quite abash’t.