Dear diary;
Today was
a good day to die.
But worry not,
ready or not,
I'm going to
live young
and die fast.

Dear Diary;
I failed again.
Somehow I can’t learn how to
love others the way that
I want to be loved.
I am the enemy of
my own story.

Dear diary;
I need something
stronger than an ******-
something that really rattles the bones
and shakes me to the core
of my soul.

Dear diary;
my back aches
from carrying all of
these memories-
my soul aches from
bearing all these regrets
from a distant life
I'd rather forget.

Dear diary;
I ate a whole
wheel of cheese
for dinner tonight.
Regret nothing about this-
at least, not yet.

Dear diary;
this world is
falling to pieces-
I can see it on my screen
and I can hear it outside
my window.

Dear diary;
I moved house today
but I'm afraid my demons
followed me to the door.
Tonight,
the twilight seeps through the window,
the highway never sleeps and
the demons make their bed.
I am wide awake
again.

Dear diary;
I am my one
and only enemy.
Somehow,
I am content
and depressed
about it all
at once.

Dear diary;
this heartbreak stuff
does wonders for my writing.
Is it a price worth paying?
Probably not,
but it’s not
like I have a
choice.

Dear diary;
and dear heart;
you broke your promise
when you beat for her
again.

Dear Diary;
I think I've figured out
why I enjoy staying up so late.
It's 2:44 am
and the world is quiet.
No one expects anything from me
nor do I expect anything from anyone.
It's just me
and the silence.

Dear diary;
I thought I had
no more hope left to lose
...until I found
a little more hope
left to lose.

Dear Diary;
to be honest,
I don't mind being a little broken.
If it means that
these pieces of me
can make you whole then
that's alright with me.
I'm used to it
anyway.

Dear Diary;
I feel tired-
sleep just ain't
cutting it anymore.
I've felt this way for
the last ten years-
at least.
I wonder
if anyone else
feel this way too.

Dear Diary;
why do I keep doing this
to myself?
The way I still check up on them
when I am nothing but
a second thought,
if a thought at all.
It’s no wonder I am
still a mess.
Why can’t I just
let it go?
Why can’t I just
be gone?

Dear diary;
I suppose I do consider myself
to be that of a
hopeless romantic.
But I wonder...
why are they considered hopeless and
can you be one without
the other?

Dear diary;
I caught myself
thinking about you again.
I know,
it's nothing new-
I thought about you yesterday
and the day before that.
I need to work
on that...

Dear diary;
The clock has just struck 11:11
and I find myself
wishing for her.
It's not the first time,
nor will it be
the last.

Dear diary;
Sometimes,
I let myself give in to the
hope of holding
you again one day.
False hope, maybe,
but it's the only thing that
gets me through
nights like these.

Dear diary;
Why is it that my
misery craves company
the more my morale
continues to fade?
Too many times have I
known flesh that was
not my own
this year and it has
taken me too long to realize
that it isn't the cure.

Dear diary;
tonight,
my memories
are my moon as I
sit beneath the stars
basking in the twilight
of you and I.

Dear diary;
perhaps it was hope,
one ****** up illusion,
that convinced me
that maybe,
just maybe,
I ever had a chance
with you.

Dear diary;
Lately,
I've found myself slipping
into that same old mindset
of loneliness and despair.
I keep reminding myself that
I'm still young,
and that most of my life still lies ahead.
Perhaps my better days
and better lovers
are yet to come.

Dear diary;
there were no heroes to be found
in this story I call my life-
maybe I was the villain all along.
Will a hero give this plot a meaning?
Will a hero redeem this sinful soul?
Vain and vile,
I am the villain.
Pride and pain,
I am the villain.

Dear diary;
I still catch myself
from time to time
staring up at the moon and wishing
we could still admire its
beauty and splendor
together.

Dear diary;
I am constantly
finding myself being
devoured by every memory
that I
have ever had.

Dear diary;
looks like it's
another night of
staring at the guitar,
wishing and wondering if
these **** hands can translate
the beautiful chaos
raging in this head.

Dear Diary;
Isn't it funny how
some people can show
more love to you
in a day
than others can
in a lifetime?

Dear Diary;
I must confess
that I still dip my toes
into memories too deep.
From time to time,
joy floods back
but other times,
I drown.

Dear Diary;
I don't want to let go
because I am afraid of
what life would be like
without them.
To be honest,
I don't want to know.
I'd rather spend every day saddened
by your absence than to
forget your name.

Dear Diary;
I have concluded that
there is no soul left in me-
maybe I never had one.
All I know is that there are
no dreams and no love
to be desired.

Dear diary;
sometimes I feel like
I am the side character
in my own
story.

Dear Diary;
Lately I've felt like
all I am doing is 'existing'-
I am 'just here'.
I wake up day after day,
each one a repeat, an endless loop.
Nothing happens anymore,
I'm just going through the motions
to get the **** day over with
just to do it the next day.
This is not what I had envisioned-
this is not living.

Dear diary;
Sometimes,
my emotions don't
line up with my actions-
what's up
with that?
It makes me want to scream
into the void-
why am I like this?
Why am I so broken?

Dear diary;
This lockdown has taken
my mind on a roller-coaster.
Up and down,
and everything in between.
I think I'm used to the vertigo
of this new way of life
and some days that's enough
of a victory.

Dear diary;
I'm so tired.
I am so tired of wasting energy
on those who so not reciprocate.
I am so tired of proving a point
to those who do not listen.
I am so tired of forgiving the same person
over and over again.
I am so tired of putting on a happy face
when that is not the case.
I am so tired of staying silent
for my mental health.
I am so tired.

Dear diary;
There are some days-
days like today-
where I have no place for this world.
Other days,
I feel like perhaps this world
has no place
for me.

Dear Diary;
why do I feel the
need to sabotage myself
whenever something good
happens in my life?
Do I really feel
that undeserving?

Dear Diary;
another day,
another awkward interaction
that no one probably cares about...
except me,
of course.
Is it going to keep me up at night?
Of course.
Will it make me want to die?
Of course.

Dear Diary;
Would the world
be any different if I
stopped putting pen to paper?
Would life
by any different if I
stopped pursuing my passion?
I've considered it,
but what would I be
without my voice?
I feel too much to sit in silence,
to bottle it up without an outlet
to keep me sane.
The truth is that I am incapable
of separating myself from these words-
an extension of myself on page
and I wouldn't have it
any other way.

Dear Diary;
It's the last day
of the year and I
think I will burst into tears
for having held them in
all year.

Dear diary;
I find myself either
staying home and
wishing I had gone out or
going out and
wishing I had stayed home-
there is no in between.

Dear diary;
it has taken me
far too long to realize that
my biggest obstacle in life
is me, always has been,
and that hurts more than anyone ever could.
Wherever I go, whatever I do,
my shadow will follow me around-
a subtle reminder of my
mistakes, regrets and reminders
of who I used to be.
Yes, I now realize that no one
is as guilty as me when
it comes to me.

Dear diary;
Tonight,
I will once again
return to the shadows,
to hollowness and emptiness,
to nothingness.
Oh, the joy of losing myself
in the darkness of space and time,
the joy of being no one and nothing
for another night.

Dear diary;
at the end of the day,
I have no one to blame but myself
for this wall I have built
to keep everyone else
out.

Dear diary;
I hate to admit that
I am still dependent on
feelings I promised myself I
would no longer feel and
now I punish myself
for it.

Dear diary;
I think I am starting
to believe in love again.
Each crush feels like the first time
and each kiss melts this heart-
the same stone heart I thought
would never crack again.
Indeed, I think I am ready
for love to destroy me
again.

Dear diary;
Once again,
I am shutting myself away
to give myself a chance to heal.
I find nothing but pain and sorrow
outside these walls that
have served me well
too many times
before.

Dear diary;
The sorrow comes in waves
and today I am
the sea.

Dear diary;
Today,
I feel alive.
so much so that
my demons are
laughing with me.