this is what my end looks like.
trembling fingers echoing with the marching beat on my chest,
half-finished sentences written on crumpled papers,
in an attempt to make something that might make sense.
but as i feel people’s attention on me or an unknown number calls,
the ghosts of anxiety shows up like a VIP on my guest list.
i mean, there was no party but i let them in anyway.
they start to claw on my arms like a dog preying on a bone,
and dig their teeth in as they start to unravel their poison inside.
a fair warning that they will never leave you until the party’s done.
so, start cancelling the plans you’ve just made with your friends,
and dance with them instead.

they are the half-finished sentences on the back of my notebooks,
written in attempt to give life some sense.
but my body is too worn out with all the dancing,
when the truth is all i’ve really wanted was to vanish.
pop me out like a bubble, so i’ll be out in a glance.
at least then you’ll smile than feel my sadness.

i’ve tried to be on my own,
even when being alone in public feels like you’re in an unfamiliar zone,
with nothing but strangers ready to pounce at you any given moment.
it makes me count my money at least four times
even when i am five people away from paying,
just to make sure i can actually buy it.
(even when it’s the reason i fell in line for)
and when it’s my turn,
i suddenly feel the bucket of ice water being poured unto me,
its coldness seeping through my bones
and ******* the life out of me.
it steals what is left of my voice,
and takes away the thin blanket i’ve shielded upon myself.

the battlefield is an ocean and they are the great whites.
they have eaten the goodness left in my mind,
and as sun sets in the background,
i cannot help but drown with it.
because honestly, drowning is better than having to actually face the situation.
‘cause even when i’ve rehearsed this over and over and over and
i still stumble between the pages of my journal with my too scattered thoughts
yet i try to spill what is left of my ink because this battle is not even half over.
they might have pointed the gun on my chest,
and stabbed me with their words.
though they have forgotten that the party is still alive until i get the courage
to check them off my guest list,
to the parties i never even set up to begin with.
i will continue to dance with my ghosts until they get weary.
they tried to damage my soul,
but just because i let myself get dragged down,
doesn’t mean i won’t resurface.
the ocean might engulf the sun everyday,
but the sky never stops shining.

the ocean is my battlefield and you are the great whites.
but i am the ******* sun.
you cannot drown me all at once.