and the first question that came to my mind was how on earth did I even survive? Because I know why I wrote what I wrote and I know how much I choked on the agony of words that poured out of me. I know what I have been through and these poems record it. They know too. And to a degree, everyone who reads them knows as well. But at the same time no one else knows for certain what exactly was my Hell. How did I survive? Why did I choose to keep on going? Why did I choose to stop writing at one point? Was I really that depressed? I guess I was.
you knew me well enough to know that i had a hard time letting go of my past and i knew you well enough to know that you had a fear of being forgotten. maybe that's why you decided to leave and be part of my past; i never could forget it, never could forget you, no matter how hard i tried.
Late night so blind The whole world wouldn't notice you around its darkest night thousands of people you encountered. Half awake and bold for nothingness. Set the time to its counterclockwise Hoping to get back the memories you've once remembered. Maybe it'll get better Maybe it'll change but still won't do. Till you wake up one day Till someone would tap your shoulder & reality hits you so hard.