In the beginning,
I wandered through a thick sunflower field.
Each passing day I grew closer and closer to the edge.
The way I started my descent,
I sat with my legs off the cliff,
Swinging them back and forth.
Next,
I inched down,
But was suddenly pushed because my heart broke.
Then coaxed by others hanging,
And well,
My curiosity led me on.

Now I have both hands on the cliff.
When I glance down,
My eyes widen.
I can't see anything,
It's pitch black with uncertainty,
A chilly breeze flows by.
Well that's a lie,
I can see a faint light,
But it's dim,
And a part of me wants to let go,
To fall,
Down,
Down,
Down.
My stomach does flips and tricks,
As I contemplate.
There's an excitement to it,
And curiosity again creeps up in my mind.
Accompanying the obscurity below,
The scent of tobacco and alcohol makes me scrunch up my nose.

I decide to gaze up,
I can hear laughter,
And light hearted banter.
The tantalizing smell of sugary candy,
Pleases me more.
The sky is pure baby blue,
No puffy cotton candy clouds,
And the sunshine warms the field.
Giant sunflowers sways back and forth,
Their golden color almost matching the brilliant sun.
Mindless daydreams appear,
And the notion of fairy tale love,
Causes my heart to swell,
I start to pull myself back up...

And I slip,
Beginning to fall backwards.
I scream.
Clawing at the side of the cliff,
My hands grab onto a small ledge and again I am hanging,
My legs dangling,
I'm a child on the monkey bars.
Wait no,
I am not a child.
But...
I don't feel like letting go just yet.
Why do I always try to traverse back up,
When every single time I’ve ended up farther down than before?
I don’t know.
Slowly,
I manage to rest myself on a small ledge.

Then as I’m speculating,
My eyes notice a small flower,
Growing on the vines that covered parts of the cliff,
Its petals surrounding itself.
Its color was white,
Clean like paper,
Resembling airy snow.
I reach out to touch it,
But retract my hand,
Hesitant.
It was the only other flower I had seen,
I was only familiar with the sunflowers,
But this one...
It wasn't blooming.
Again,
I extend my arm,
But I move the tiny flower away from what little sunlight reaches it,
And now complete darkness surrounds it,
As I hid it in a crevice.

I am not alone in this.
I know that much.
I can hear others shouting,
And falling.
Even if there is no sound,
I know there's always someone falling.
Some manage to climb up,
But never back onto the sunflower field.
They at least prolong their trip downwards,
Hugging the cliff even more.

Some don't even look before they disappear.
They step out of the field,
Then leap,
And dive right down,
As if they were young Icarus flying too close to the sun.
No matter what,
You always go down.

As I cling to the cliff,
The bright star above completes its journey for the day,
And is replaced with its ominous counterpart.
Sighing,
I stroke the closed petals of the white flower,
Knowing what usually comes next,
The night brings more to fall,
But as I tenderly pull the white flower from the crack,
The moon light greets it,
And soon it's petals begin to spread,
Blooming.
It reveals a dot of yellow,
Surrounding a circle of ghostly white.
A sense of comfort fills me,
Watching this long moment occur.
Darkness could transform things,
To become something beautiful.

My thoughts turn into questions as the night continues,
As I wonder what it'll be like when I fall.
What will it be like when I reach the bottom?
What is that light?
Will there be more white flowers?

But all in all,
This is not the end,
Far from it,
I know.
I'm waiting for my turn,
To finally let go and fall from grace.
But while I wait,
I’ll keep enjoying the sights above,
While pondering my coming life below.

you've written yourself into my story,
many pages and chapters you have starred in.

i have done the same.
at least i hope i am a supporting character.
but you're a close book,
and it's hard to see how i fit into your story.

our story.

the chapter we're on right now,
where am i?

tell me our story.

i held the pen you've given me years ago,
but i lost it yesterday.

but i was given a new one,
by a teacher who knew how i felt.

it's not black,
but green ink.

i want to know what character i play in your story.
the childhood friend?
the lover?
that girl at school?

because what you are in my story isn't just a character that passes by.

so i hold a new pen,
and instead of a monochrome story,
i hope i bring color to your life.
like how you bring red to mine.

doll me up and fill my heart, i know you'd mess me up from the start.

so take me on ride.

first gear, second gear, third gear, the feelings change.

now everything's a blur and the breaks won't work. the pedals refuse to push, just like you as i stare.

shifting, shifting, fourth gear... then, back down, down, down. third gear, second gear, a sharp right turn.

we'd don't know where we'll end up.

because my room is a mess without you here,
there's clothes everywhere,
the bed never made,
because i don't care.

i lay on top,
music blaring from my phone,
i stare up into the unknown,
i want everything,
i want nothing,
i long to be somewhere else,
yet nowhere.

my thoughts are plagued of you,
the way you curl up next to me,
the intoxicating scent of your hair.
but when i open my eyes,
you're not there.

we're so close,
yet i feel so far apart.

the way your cheeks are dusted with pink,
when i tell you i love you,
i love it,
i love it,
i love it.

i find it amazing that our own brains can turn on us.
in events of danger we find ourselves clawing to be alive,
for that animalistic, primal side to work its magic.

but depression. oh depression turns, that primal drive to live, off.
it shuts it down.
sometimes a little.
sometimes a lot.
and sometimes it finally takes us, as the illness as is it, till we are no longer breathing.
it is the virus that corrupts the hardwired code.
that's what depression is.

it can manifest in different ways.
some of us infected,
will seek out death.
while other see no point in maintaining the act of living.

one might climb to the top of a building,
and stare.
just stare down to the bottom.

another might forget to cross the street,
or continue to smoke that cigarette,
or down another shot.
not that they do want to **** themselves;
but they do not care about their life.

i believed,
i confessed,
to have faith in something,
in someone?
no less of a substance,
in a trance.
so why?
why won't it stop?
no,
really-
this burning,
clawing in my throat,
firey words that want to shoot up,
out of my tiny mouth,
desperate to keep the words down,
stuff it lower,
keep it at bay,
because these thoughts should stay in your head,
no.
wait,
no,
they should come out,
be released for someone,
anyone,
to hear,
no,
no.
but what difference does it make,
screaming,
shouting,
wailing that the two people,
i was so close too for the past months,
whom i trusted with my whole **** heart,
went behind my back,
left me on the cold,
but blanketed floor,
to sleep,
only to wake up alone,
throwing up in the sink,
while they ****** in another room,
they were both lost and confused.
but I was alone too.
didn't they think about that?
If they loved me so much why did they do this to me?
Why?
Why?
Why?
I understand,
but at the same time, I don't.
Don't tell me it was the alcohol.
Don't,
because it's not.

i want to move on,
I do.
but it'll be a bit,
before the claws in my throat,
can leave me be.

tension.
it always starts that way.

a look towards him,
a gaze towards her,
a fever sparked between the two of them.

the curling of lips,
before the sudden crashing of them,
as tension elevates.
but only for a moment.

they pull away.
heavy breathing fills the silence,
and the fever starts to rise.
"you missed this. didn't you?"

silence.

he tugs her closer, his eyes searching her face for an answer.

"yes. i missed you."
her lips parted as she grinned,
her eyes flitting.
"and this."
she swoops in for another kiss.

her fingers make their way to his hair,
tangling them between his locks,
as she melts into this fever.

he only pulls her closer,
closer,
closer,
closer,
until he can feel her breath on his neck,
and could hear their heartbeats together.

they pull away.

her lip is now a cherry red,
from being played with,
nipped.

his cheeks are now a dusty rose,
for he had caught his fever the moment he kissed her.

out of breath,
out of sight,
she kisses him on his warm cheek,
giggling.
"i missed you."

"i missed you too," he admits. his gaze lurking down from her eyes, to her lips, and to her neck.