Dear diary;
Too often I subtract
myself from the world
only to realize that it would
not be much of a loss nor
would the world notice
such a loss.

Dear Diary;
I met a girl last night
and I saw a goddess in her eyes.
Can you believe it?
I met a *******
goddess.

Dear diary;
on one hand,
I hate being so alone
and on the other,
I have never felt more alone
than I do among others.
What sort of cruel paradox is this?
Perhaps I cannot connect
to anyone, let alone,
myself.

Dear diary;
I have always felt
like an inconvenience.
Perhaps that is why I flee
before I am made
aware of it.

Dear diary;
I have always felt this disconnection
with the rest of the world, with society,
but that is nothing new.
I thought I would have overcome it by now,
but sadly, that is not the case.
It has lingered over me for as long
as I can remember and I have never
felt more alone than right now.
This alienation to everyone I meet,
who have loved me and those I loved
leaves me with an inescapable shame.
I still have not found myself
and I don't think I ever will.

Dear Diary;
for far too long
you made me believe that
if I was not good enough for you
than I must not be good enough
for anyone else in
this world.

Dear diary;
I cannot handle my mind anymore.
The world is moving too fast
and the thoughts keep racing.
Society is foreign to me as they are cruel,
and I cannot handle them anymore.

Dear diary;
I do not feel-
no, I do not feel anymore.
Sometimes I can feel my heartbeat,
or a lonely butterfly in this stomach
but that pales in comparison to
when I used to feel alive,
to feel any hope at all.

Dear diary;
I am growing tired of this mind,
tired of overthinking, of the endless cycle.
"When will this day end? This week, this month, this year?"
I grow tired of society and their norms and expectations.
I want to enjoy life again, to be free, not just endure,
to go through the motions again and again.
I try to savor the good times like a rose,
to smell it, and see it in all its beauty,
until it withers away.
Indeed, I am tired of this winter,
and all the dreariness it brings.
I want to live.

Dear diary;
I am still learning to
let go of that of which I
have no control over or that
remains in the past.
Some days are harder than others
to accept things the way they are
and not the way I had hoped
they could be.

It is true that
I have never been
an excitable person.
Even when it comes to
celebrations, birthdays,
and even my own, I find it
hard to muster up the joy.
Perhaps I wasn't given the
social battery required to spark
enough excitement for those
day-to-day activities and achievements
but that is fine by me.

Dear Diary;
this year already
tastes like last year
and I can see the
rot ahead.

Dear Diary;
now that the dust has settled
I have realized that
all I want to do is
work,
travel,
work,
travel
to distract myself
from the joke that is my life

Dear diary;
Today I came to
the realization that
I can probably count on one hand
the people who know anything
about me in real life.
If you are reading this,
I doubt you're
one of them.

Dear diary;
my life is far
from normal
but not so strange that I
should fear what
lies ahead.

Dear diary;
there's a musical riot
erupting in my
chest tonight.
My ribs echo
with the sounds of
chaos and harmony.

Dear diary;
I have thought a lot
about leaving this all behind
and buying a one-way ticket
to anywhere where no one
knows my name.
I want to forget who I am
and lose myself
in another's culture.
I want to stay until I tire
and do it all again
somewhere else.

Another lover
has swept you off your feet
and now I look back
and wonder if I
even made you
or your heart
skip at all

I worry that maybe
you are not the same person
I perceived you to be.
Maybe you are different,
or maybe you deceived me
like all the ones before.

You and I
are different people now.
Maybe if we met again
it would be like meeting
for the first time
all over again.

You take the dirt
of this life and
turn it into
sunflowers.

One day you said
your last goodbye
and we turned away.
We just disappeared
from each other's world
and that was that.

A life
is not a life if
it has to be disguised.

I am too
many tragedies
disguised as a man with
too many wounds
disguised as
memories.

It always
ends the same-
you found someone,
you turn away and
just like that,
the magic
is gone.

My memories are
like dissonant wind chimes-
they shriek every time
my mind's winds blow.
Those familiar tunes still haunt me
and to this day they remain
stuck in my head.

So much distance,
but not between our hearts.
So cold is the night,
but so warm are the memories
we share forever.

We are not the same person
as we were yesterday.
Today we believe in this,
and tomorrow we believe in that.
Yesterday is a distant dream and
today I'm only waking up.

what actually were we
other than two broken hearts,
and two lost souls?
A sense of passion, yet only for an instant,
leading to an everlasting
feeling of torment.
Our distant dreams of romance
never quite turned into a reality
without even a daydream of hope.

Being happy and
being distracted from sadness
are not the same thing.

It's a dog eat dog world, baby,
and I simply found myself
at the bottom of your
food chain.

Am I any good for you anymore?
Do my words still make you smile?
Do you still dread my goodbyes?
or have they lost all meaning?

Tomorrow
is tomorrow
is tomorrow
is tomorrow-
if only i could
become unstuck.

Do not give up hope just yet,
you have still not met all of
the people who will love you.

It’s important
not to take these things personally.
Sometimes people hate you
through no fault of your own.
And sometimes people push you away
just because they’re afraid of what
will happen if you get too close.
And sometimes people leave
because they came to realize
that you weren't right for them
before you could realize that
they weren't right for you.
And that's okay because
not everybody can
love you.

Are you drifting from me?
Or am I drifting from you?
The seas are against us and I fear
I will soon be a dot on your horizon,
the same dot at the end of a question mark
that may be forever left unanswered.

Maybe one day
I will shed the doubt
that you sowed in me
that day you turned away.

Do you love
what we were?
who we are today?
or what we could
become?

"Why do I feel you letting go of me?"
I think to myself, a thought I have far too often.
And I wonder,
do you feel it too?

do you ever get the feeling that
The closer you connect with someone,
the further away you feel?
do you ever get the feeling that
when you think of someone so much,
that every thought seems real?

Do you miss me
like I miss you?
I do not know if you do,
or if you still think about me
like I think about you.
I do miss you,
who I thought you were
and how you made me feel.
Those things are gone now,
just a memory I will
continue to miss.

Well, I guess it's
just one of those nights
when I don't care if my batteries die
and I don’t switch on  
tomorrow.

Nevertheless,
I keep on writing to the dream
of what I imagined
we would share.

You're a dream
I want to get lost in -
One I don't wish to wake from.

I guess our dream
of owning a dalmatian
doesn't matter
anymore.

Death has made
one too many
appearances  
in my dreams.
I forgot how long it's been
since he first woke me up or
how long it's been since
I feared my own
dreams.

It was nice
To have the idea
that I had met the living embodiment
of all my dreams and fantasies.
It was doomed from the start
because that's what it was, a fantasy.
Still, I do not regret dreaming-
giving in to what was probably a
delusion more than a dream
because to this day,
you are still the closest thing
to what I could dream of.

Don't let me close my eyes-
wake me if I do,
even if I am dreaming because
no dream can compare to the one I lay beside.
I want to dream of you
with eyes wide open.

I still dream about you
from time to time.
Sometimes I wish to not wake up,
sometimes they turn into nightmares.
Either way, I am sad when I wake up
to see that you are gone.

Even the bad ones are good-
they remind me of how poorly
reality measures up.