one day
it will be easier for you to fall asleep
but tonight
its three fifty eight and you are wide awake
even though your eyes are washed with tears
and your heart is numb from pain

one day
you will see the light at the end of the tunnel
at the end of the tunnel
but tonight
you are freefallng
p l u n g i n g
and you're scared because
you can't see your outstretched fingers
and there is nothing to hold on to

one day
you will no longer need to stitch yourself together
as you watch yourself fall apart by the seams
but tonight
you are in tears (again)
and no one is here
to wipe them away
because the numbers you dialled
sent you to voicemail

and maybe
one day
you will be happy again
but its been at least nine months
and the clean slits on your left fist is barely visible
you are at least nine months clean
but you are not okay
you have not been okay
and you're scared shitless because
there are some things that love cannot fix
and this happens to be one of them

but strength, cannot be measured in a protractor
because you are not just a page in my mathematics textbook
hidden in a mess of my room
and perhaps,
you are weak in the strongest sense
because you still care for the ones that
drove the knife against your skin
just as you are strong in the weakest sense
because its four in the morning and no one has returned your call
and you can't seem to stop your angry tears
but you don't reach for the knife
or for the bleach at the kitchen counter
or for the alcohol

and one day,
the pain you carved unto your arms
will one day adorn your skies like constellations because the stars will guide you home

even though its not tonight
or twenty nights from now
or twenty years from now

i have learnt a lot about people;

that people can be weak in the strongest sense
like how ,
even though its three in the morning and the ones you choose to call
sends your calls into the voicemail
so you are completely alone
your thoughts and you,
and you're losing but you refuse to reach for that knife
the next morning, they will ask you why you called
and you will smile and you will say nothing
the cycle repeats
and you will hold on
that is weakness, in the strongest sense

and how people can be strong in the weakest sense
like how some will sweep you off your feet
with the way they say i love you
i love you
i love you before they rip you apart
limb
by
limb
like a tornado
and you will stay
because you love them
at three am, when all is quiet and the storm is gone
you will convince yourself that they love you
and that is being strong, in the weakest way

and maybe that's why
i have stopped dividing people
as weak and strong
because this world doesn't exist in black and white
only different shades of grey

nine months ago,
it was a cut, a tear
and then i'm me again

now, i'm tears on four am nights
and it won't go away

i'm angry, and sad then angry again
i'm not me
and i don't know where to look

the next time you say
"no one loves me",
remember how its like to have a fever
don't reach the glass of water your throat is thirsting for
close your eyes for a little bit
and see your body for what it is
it is a warzone
and it is fighting to keep you alive
because it loves you
it doesn't know what you are
who you are
what you have done
but with every cut you etch across your skin
as if you are trying to erase your mistake
it heals you as if it is
trying to tell you
you are worth it
you
are
worth it
even if you don't think you are
even if everyone else doesn't think you are

so if you are looking for unconditional love,
reach for that glass of water - clench your thirst
pull that blanket over yourself
sleep knowing that your body loves you, even if you don't love you
tomorrow,
everything will be okay
hold on a little bit.

its tiring to hold onto things
that don't want to be held on to
in the same way, it is terrible
to hold onto memories
because they are scars that ache on rainy days
sometimes i wish that i can stop holding onto them

before you can learn to love yourself
you must first self-destruct
you must tear yourself apart and feel pain pulsing
in your blood, like toxic waste
before you can learn to love yourself
you must first know
how it is like to hate yourself
and every moment
until you want to erase every trace of yourself
from this planet
before you can learn to love yourself
you must learn to hate yourself
because they are two sides to the same coin
but some never get there
some end up  six feet under, buried under
cruel human beings who pretend to care
but never do.

i don't care
i don't care
i don't care
i say with a straight face
as i click past pictures
on facebook
i don't care
i don't care
i don't care
but it hurts
alittle
that feeling keeps biting
how can i make it go away?