Alvira Jul 18

the memories won't go away
and i can't stop feeling like
you couldn't care less if i was here
or not.

it hurts that you couldn't care less,
that how i'm doing genuinely doesn't
matter. you're all up in your own head,
and when soemthing doesn't suit you,
you throw it away.

did i not suit you? did my depression get
the way of your night out?
you're throwing away 16 years of 'best friendship',
but part of me feels that i haven't mattered
to you in a long while.

i suppose it's your choice,
i'm tired of kissing your arse so that
i can call you my best friend.
it's your move.

it's funny because you hate her and she's been a way better friend in the past 2 years than you have in the past 12.
Alvira Jul 3

this is the story of a girl
who is conditioned to believe
that her achievements aren't worth
celebrating, because there are
others doing better than her.

this is the story of a girl,
who's afraid to talk in a group
because she's been conditioned
to believe that what she has to say
isn't worth adding to the conversation;
tired of having people talk over her.'

this is the story of a girl,
who's afraid to in the dark,
afraid that one of the horrors in her
mind have managed to crawl out
and haunt her.

this is the story of a girl,
who never feels like she's good enough.
a girl who tries her best with every
chance, but she's been conditioned
to believe that she can't do it.

this is the story of a girl,
who second guesses every opinion
that she shares, because she's been
conditioned to think that her opinion
is one of those that doesn't matter.

this is the story of a girl,
who feels like she doesn't matter,
because when she was reaching out,
desperate for someone to tell her that she
will be okay, nobody paid her attention.

this is the story of a girl,
who often loses hope, and always
find it difficult to regain it.

i never know what's safe anymore.
Alvira Jun 23

the transparent words fall out her mouth,
like they never belonged there.
she knows that she's running her mouth,
she knows these things aren't to be said.

her words scatter around the floor,
and her anxiety presses for her to fall
to her knees and collect the words
so that no one else can see her guts spilt.

she knows that nothing good can come
of this, and she knows it so well.
and yet, against her will entirely,
she's forced to say these things, because
without it, her depression would be bored
without being able to tear her apart.

i think that puts it into perspective.
Alvira Jun 23

i hide behind my fear
pretending to have control
i lie to myself, fighting to
believe that it is my will

who am i kidding?
i'm transparent glass
i don't want to admit it
i don't want anyone to see it

i've change my name on here again, because i'm stupidly, stupidly not wanting my words to be found; ironic since i'm an author.
Alvira Jun 19

i watch people throw those three words
around like they're nothing but decoration.
'i love you' spilling out in the middle of the night,
instead of 'thank you for listening'.

'i love you' instead of 'i like us',
because nobody wants to feel unloved,
and nobody wants to admit they're afraid
of being alone, of being forgotten.

so he says those words to her, trusting
that when she says them back, she'll mean them.
it seems that he hopes that when he says those words,
that she'll stay; that she'll continue to love him.

but what if, in the end, we're all lying?
what if we're all pinning those words in hopes,
hopes that they will stay, and we plaster on a smile,
hoping that they can love us, as we need.

broken and left behind, we pin our hopes
onto those three little words and we listen intently
for them to be said back. we seem to trust, all too much,
in the shared words.

but, when we find out that things won't work,
and the relationship crumbles, we struggle to be okay.
we lose the hope that someone can love us as we need,
we lose the hope that we can love as someone else needs.

i feel like this is more of a train of thought than a poem.
Alvira May 26

my demons whisper to me
as i lie awake at night.
they tell me to put them
into words, immortalize
them between the pages
of a book.

but i am afraid that someone
will find them, that someone
will end up with them
in their own head, and i can't
imagine putting someone else
through that.

sleep is becoming scarce again. i'm becoming scarce again.
Alvira May 16

i can't go to a bathroom by myself,
the overcrowdedness sets me off
like a firework on new years.

the fear that bubbles inside,
panics me to the point
of not being able to breathe.

is this what my life is?
being afraid of being alone
in a crowded room?

is this what i have become?
a walking ball of anxiety,
afraid of merely existing.

it's a living hell.
why can't i just be okay?
i wish i was okay.

boy, what a horrible day it was.
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