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macayla Jun 2
I wonder how long it will take for me to destroy myself.
I wonder how much longer
I have before I
self-destruct
There's a bomb lodged in the middle of the bony hug of my ribcage
instead of a soft, gooey, beating heart
Counting down the seconds
macayla Mar 17
12 is not a number
but a whole lifetime away
macayla Mar 16
why
why is my heart so heavy and sad
it's dragging down my breaths

why is my heart so aching and swirling
swirling pits of guilt

why am i so heavy
macayla Mar 10
Sentiment tied with grief. The worst kind of feeling that overwhelms your body, shaking you to your core, ratting your bones and unsettling the blood that sits in the tiny, twisting canals of your veins. I attach everything to you nowadays. I annotate your love and life to every song on my Spotify playlist, I draw lines and connect you to the good parts of my day. I can’t get rid of you from me and my life. You have overtaken the sun, placed your hands over mine, and every time I close my eyes I can feel your hair on my neck.

Your voice is like warm static. Your presence is like a warm jazz chord, a seventh or a ninth, like sunlight peeking out from the gaps in between two people embracing each other. You are a breath of living. You are a breath of stunning colours, stark orange and burning red, translucent blues and almost invisible, pale yellow. I can smell the wind, the sea and the sky when I’m with you.

I hate looking up the traces of you online and offline. There’s a sick feeling, the feeling of acknowledgement of how tight your hands are around my throat. I feel like I should be guilty of something, like I am the only one at fault for letting myself indulge in someone so distant, far away, but still so bright and expectant. Someone who plays and listens in a mascarpone-cream colour.

I’m so pathetic. Here I am, listening to your self-made playlists, pretending like you are listening to them at the same time as I am.

I wish I could un-love you, as an idea. Reality makes me shudder. It renders me silent, and I resign to aloofness. I can’t enter your bubble, or be a part of the same world as you are in. It’s so comforting, but I know that as soon as I raise my hands or step a foot inside, everything will be ruined.

And you are the last one I would ever think of ruining.
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macayla Mar 6
I am haggard
and empty
-- unfinished and
a half-effort
an unsatisfying result
that makes
your heart
drop to your knees
a vocation that is unsolid
buried by talk of
money,
money,
money.
banks are more than fulfillment.
my lungs are on fire
What is the price of my mental health?
macayla Feb 4
I am the only one who knows how lonely I am
How lonely I can be
How lonely I can get
Because blaming others and pointing fingers is not my thing
Yet

I am the only one who can feel the emptiness
Wanting, weary, to tip over and overflow my body with a scratched and deeply carved soul
How could anyone want something so delicate, so unmoving, so changeable and dark
too heavy to hold in my palm
And too light for the tip of my pinky finger

I am the only one who knows how lonely I am
Because I am lonely in the nighttime
Dwelling over people and faces and words and actions
That I could not change or take back
That I could not replace or fix
Because I cannot control anyone
Not even myself
Because my limbs decide they have hearts and feelings of their own.

I am a watery mess of invisible ribbon
Easing into the direction of the wind
Which hits me on all sides
Tossing my conscience around
My anxiety
My fears
My hopes and achievements
Until I can no longer feel the weight of my stomach
Grounding me to the floor
Because it won’t
It gives up and gave up
On my hopeless brain and body

I am lonely and sad and longing
And it is my fault
But thank you for listening
It’s hard to do that nowadays.
macayla Nov 2018
sick and lonely
like dirt crawling up the sides of my head
diseased eyes
diseased heart
a chest that can't move up or down,
stuck in the expanse in the middle
enough to breathe but not enough to live.

highs, followed by lows
followed by a moment of standstill when i just
stand
still searching the lines on my hands for  answers.
- i won't find them

my bones are confused
nerves twisted all together
though oxygen makes everything better.
i'm only aware of being lonely when i'm around you
and you, and you, and you, and you, and you
and everyone else.
- that's why i don't want to hang around.

by myself
staring at my own feet
because i have no one else's to look at
the sky doesn't have feet
the trees still tower
my friendship group is a little less than human, but a little more than aching hard
they give me space to breathe, and a little spot for my own thoughts to fill
and at least they'll still be there
when something falls apart.
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