I thought I would write again to help me fall asleep

I took my final today and got an A
It was easy but it’s still something so yay

Im working on staying positive
And when the depressive hits
I let it sit and feel it fully
No more pushing the waves down
No more hiding my frown.

Painting abstract and expressive
often on formats quite impressive
when my use of red is too excessive
I get agitated and feel a bit aggressive
might as well do my taxes, so depressive
then I start tidying or other things obsessive
eventually a cup of tea can feel decompressive

do you feel like an abandoned house? i swear sometimes it is just painful to breathe. i told him i felt daggers inside my lungs each time the air entered my body. air is life itself, all of us need it - but then why is my body rejecting it? because i am an abandoned house -my air hasn't moved for ages and it just rests - stale and comfortable. eating dust. creating these invisible angry daggers.

do you feel like you have been lying to yourself? lying is a comfort and a privilege that all of us can have.. which is a whole contradiction in of itself. i have been thinking about it quite a lot. i have been thinking about the invisible daggers in the air - they are impossible to clean nobody sees them. and they are so vengeful - a quiet sort of rage, caused by neglect.


have you been fighting with your parents today?

i am shattering like glass
as everything around me slips away
reality fragmenting, i reach to grab shards
sharp enough to slit my own wrists

i return to tendencies of self destruction
like returning to an abusive ex
because even when things are bad
there is comfort in the familiarity pain.

— dis(comfort)

I see black everywhere I look
but I know people that see white
and people who understand my black
and I envy their white

While you might look
at the months ahead
and see feasts,
and shared tables,
and celebratory treats,
and memories made in the kitchen.
I see hours needed on the treadmill,
and calories needing to be logged,
and pounds gained,
and hours crying on the bathroom floor.
I no longer see the holidays
as a joyous time full of laughs
but rather as a 3 month long
depressive purge.

Have you ever wondered
Why we are here?
On this planet, being plundered
By our emotions, by our carrier
Being lonely but still bothered
Sometimes, I feel like an extraterrestrial

Our lives can be definied as a trial
A trial, which we hardly desire
Which we just cannot admire
But somehow i still don’t see the denial-
People who may wanna be a fighter
Sometimes, I feel like an extraterrestrial

The word is just not what it would be
Everything seems to be immemorial
And unless,the human race is free
We just can’t belive that our trial
Has drawn to a close - but maybe
Sometimes, I feel like an extraterrestrial