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Ak 6d
When Sun hides in the ocean,
I seek him.
My heart wanders around
Craving his presence
My confession diary.

Sealed with untold memories,
Deep inside my consciousness
I smiled childishly, while he grinned
Dyeing his blank pages
Refreshing them like a mountain spring
Words flow from dusk to dawn
End with yawns.

Moon reminded me, like a pendulum
My fingers reluctantly waved departure
My droopy eyes gently closed
Desiring to trace my life once again
On his dark leaflets.
Anon Aug 22
Why don't they like me?
What can I do to change?
No matter what I do,
everything stays the same.

All of these thoughts
darting around inside my head.
As I write in my diary
words are leaping onto the two-page spread.

As these words come out, so do the tears
because I start to see all of my fears.
Now that they are in front of me it is all just too much
and so I take out my kit and start to cut....

As the blood runs down my arm
I can feel myself becoming calm.
In my head, I can hear them saying
just keep going and no telling!

I know that these thoughts are sometimes irrational,
but that doesn't stop me from taking them as factual.
B D Caissie Aug 19
Blank pages from my diary rustling near the window by my bed.

Soon to be weighed down by words I’ve not yet said.

My dreams unwanted memories my thoughts are bleeding red.

Imprisoned by my heartbreak red ink to paper bled.
I'm sorry I ran upstairs and left you behind, I was feeling rather overwhelmed and attacked for in my head is a war you are unaware is being waged and barely won. I needed to scream alone and in complete isolation. Scream internally, for screaming out loud is far too piercing, too uncomfortable, intolerable. I am sorry you took offence, maybe it is so I didn't want your company, I am sorry it is this way for us. It’s sad you decide to ultimately dislike, distrust and put no time into understanding the western attitude, an attitude I have come to grow and slowly devour and make my own performance. Take in their love of the bleak, the absurd and the incontrollable. Their wish to understand the mental health of the masses, no they aren't made up and in fact threaten your spawn with vivid flashes at night and in the middle of the day with all the force it has, most obvious in crowds.

How does one go about explaining the looming darkness that hovers above, the dark alleys of depression and anxiety, adhd or aspd, to someone who puts all of their unwavering and immovable faith in God and looks to nothing else to help quench their existential crises or their paranoia surrounding the future. To someone who knows nobody that has gone through the battle, the ongoing battle we fear to speak of too loudly. Someone who has never been educated or confronted by the discussion because the country in which they were born and raised in is stricken with poverty and corruption, leaving no room for emotional or real spiritual journeys. It is exhausting being around such isolated people that stay within their rigid and unhelpful forms, that refuse to change or transform. It is sad to see.

It’s strange, it is rather comforting and pleasant to know that I got out, that I was set free from what could have been a horrible, stifled life. However, it still is my reality that I now flow in-between two opposing worlds with different smells, different voices and widely different places of comfort, as every time I step foot in the country I must still call home, I see a glimpse of who I could have become. It frightens me, makes me feel deeply unsettled. It’s beautiful and tragic. Freedom is in reach, it is there and I can feel it in my toes, holding on in itself is a practice in self growth. Not yielding to the heavy mischief of dry, summer air is in itself already something I hold fondly.
David J Aug 15
I wonder to whom I journal
Because when I write
It is always a
Be thankful for your notebooks service!
B D Caissie Aug 6
I carry my thoughts in a leather-bound book.
Tied by a heartstring I've not yet forsook.

I open it often to reminisce what you took.
A rose thorn pierces my skin whenever I look.

My blood stains its pages amongst every nook.
Drawn like a Shepherd lovingly with his crook.

I carry my thoughts in a leather-bound book.
The story of heartbreak we two had partook.
Carl D'Souza Jul 23
When my emotions and thoughts are racing
out of control,
I record a voice diary
using my computer microphone;
I express freely
every emotion and thought
as it arises in my mind
without censorship;
I cry, sob, wail, scream -
but as I dry my tears
all the emotions and thoughts
that were pent up inside me
waiting to explode
are now dissipated
and I achieve peace of mind.
fray narte Jul 23
And maybe all I need is my 30-year old self to come here right now and tell me that everything will be okay, and that I made it.

— “I would’ve totally done that for my 13-year old self”
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