it's too late to call you, but i stare at your number anyway.
with a picture that no longer looks like you staring back at the dark,
clouded by a fuzzy head and wet eyes.
as i desperately try to tell myself that it's okay to be strangers sometimes.

but i'm lying.

i can't live as a stranger to you. i don't know who that leaves me to be.

i want you to look me in the eye and see me down to my soul so i don't have to embarrass myself by telling you,
because i always sound pathetic out loud.
i want you to know me so i don't have to know myself
i want you to love me so i never have to look my reflection in the eye and feel my insides turn at the sight.

every time that i tap into the sadness it threatens to pour out of me at once.
and i cannot touch the wave that crashes inside my chest for fear that i will splinter,
and everything will fall until it is broken.
and i have nowhere left to hide.
and you will see me.

as i am, anything other than as i am.
i feel like i have been waiting for something for my entire life.
i have been waiting for an okay that will never last
for something to break
something to give
to fix
feel
wait.


                 breathe.


i will be okay.

in some hour of tomorrow who feels so impossibly far from now.
and i will be okay until i am not.
again and again until the cycle comes to me like water
the hardest part of getting better is realising that 'better' is a lie, and working towards it anyway.
but there are times when i want to be alive so much it makes my lungs ache.
so i will carry on for the me who lives in those moments, fleeting as they may feel.


it will pass.