I am from the Universe,
from stars and nebulas.
I am from the galaxies.
The delicate, the powerful,
every infinity, past, present, and future.
I am from the meteor showers,
the solar flares.
I am made of the same atoms
of all that was, is, and will be.

I am from everything under the sun and
everything beyond the sun,
from asteroids and Super Novas.
I am from the essence,
and the energy of all of time and space,
from life stories,
and chemical reactions.
I'm from everything that surrounds me,
the same vibrations move through my soul.

I'm from eons and eons back,
Science and History.
From the dark matter,
the icy cold blackness,
the billions of astronomical units of emptiness,
the fiery explosions,
the twinkling lights,
the white-hot comets,
and endless matter, endless space, endless possiblities.

I am from the Universe,
I am the Universe.
In everyday life,
I am the stars,
I am the earth,
I am the light and the darkness.
My eyes can hold galaxies.
My soul is written in the stars.
For I am from the Universe.

To love is to burn,
for to feel heat,
one must set their soul ablaze.

To breathe is to drown,
for with every breath of air,
comes a suffocating waterfall.

To think is to be crushed,
for our thoughts trap us,
under their weight.

It is so with all things.
The things that I need to do
destroy me.

I'm trapped.

"Are you okay? You look sad."
"I'm fine, I'm just tired."
Tired of feeling empty,
tired of feeling alone,
tired of hating myself,
tired of hurting myself,
tired of crying,
tired of dying,
tired of faking,
tired of breaking,
tired of sinking,
tired of falling,
tired of darkness,
tired of numbness,
tired of wanting this all to end.

But I'm fine.
I'm just tired.

Sitting in the middle
of an empty window frame,
Gripping the window sill
to keep my hands form shaking,
Feet swinging idly
sixty meters above the city street.
Staring blankly down
at the sidewalk below.

There are two ways off this ledge,
to turn back, or to jump.
I sit for hours wondering,
to press on, or end my pain?
The sun has long since left the sky,
leaving me lost in the dark.
One thought remains in my mind:
to end this misery.

I close my eyes,
I slowy inch towards the edge.
Twenty stories up...
Ready to fall...
Just one final push...

The week after I died...

I sat down beside you on your sofa.
I watched.
Your hands shook as much reading my note
As mine did writing it.
Your jaw trembled, your eyes filled with tears.
I saw the cracks starting to form
Just as I had felt them.
You mouthed the words that I was thinking:

"I'm sorry."

What have I done?
I can't undo this.

I didn't know you needed me.
You didn't know I needed you.
I've left you behind to follow the same path that I did.
If only we'd been more honest with each other.
But now,

It's too late.

Behind my eyes lies a world,
A distorted fantasy,
A dystopia,
A twisted, broken wonderland.

A dark, dead wood,
Filled with sorrows,
And forgotten dreams,
Rotting away in dying trees.

The icy wind chills my bones
And stings my skin.
The heavy scent of death
Forces its way into my lungs.

Creatures in the dark
Sing their broken melodies.
I cover my ears and close my eyes.
“We’re all mad here”, they assure me.

The crescent moon bares its teeth,
Shining its sickly glow,
Blocked from the ground only by
The ominous shadows of the towering trees.

I sometimes feel someone behind me,
Or see something lurking in the dark.
And sometimes I’m alone in this forest of darkness.
I don’t know which one scares me more.

They tell me it’s all in my head.
Of course they’re right,
But that doesn’t make this terrible wonderland
Any less real.