Click, Click, Click, up the hill we go,                                                              ­       hands  in the air, my hearts in my throat                                                           ­                                  You  make  me  feel  like  I'm the only one                                                              ­                           I  don't  want  to  walk,  I want to run                                                              ­   Honeymoon phase, every single day                                                       Wine  and red roses, as you love bomb me away                                                             ­                                                The  hot  turns to  cold, as  you  silently  retreat                                       ­     patiently,  I give you the space you need                                                           Angry outbursts, I do nothing right                                                            ­         back to back is how we sleep at night                                                            ­ Holding on as we quickly  descend                                                 ­                     white  knuckle ride of pure emotions                                                         ­ screeching halt as the ride abruptly ends                                                  lurching forward , brakes hitting bents                                                            ­  The ride is over as quickly as it begins                                                           ­               Emotional  roller coaster , unrestrained and intense

Rainy days and weekends, reflections of my life,                                                            ­                                               are  coming at me in waves, bitter as brine                                                            ­                                 Sadness  washes  over me , life is just too much                                                             ­                                       I'm  leaning  into every emotional crutch                                                           ­                          Worry  keeps  me  pacing  the  floor all day                                                              ­ Every  night  I  lay  awake  just  to  pray                     ­                             don't  know how long I can go on this way,                                           I'm  letting sadness  carry me away                                                      I  know  that soon I will see better days                                                               but  I  am just a mere human anyway

I miss the smell of clean clothes.

All I smell these days
is burnt rubber,
how tragic and frayed
life is,

how it’s worn down
my senses,
like mold
doused in perfume.

In dreams I shake my mother
until her brain resets
into someone who never
swallows screams
of my father,
into someone
who stops
coating every room in Lysol.

Heaven forbid she admit to
smelling
my father's breath,
but lord knows she’ll pretend
his special water
won’t erupt the sink
from years
snaking the drain.

I’m the age of a mother,
but I need
to be mothered
like a child.

Mother, save your sorrow ‘cause the worst is yet to come,
Sorry that I’m fading, I can’t face another sun,
Mother, save your sorrow ‘cause the worst is yet to come,
I’ll be somewhere peaceful where the hurting’s finally done.

She didn't rise like a phoenix.
She crawled.
On hands that trembled,
through glass she once shattered herself.
There was no fire.
No applause.
Only the sound of her own breath --
ragged, but real.

Healing didn't come with sunlight.
It came in fragments --
in mornings she didn't hate,
in nights where the silence didn't scream,
in moments where she chose not to disappear.

She still carried the past
like an old bruise,
bit it stopped dictating
who she had to be.

She found beauty in the smallest of things --
the warmth of her child's sleepy sigh,
the taste of coffee made just how she liked it,
a song that made her feel something
without dragging her under.

She let herself cry.
She let herself rest.
She forgave herself for everything
she did to survive
when survival was the only thing she knew.

There were days she still looked
into mirrors with haunted eyes,
but now she met them with gentleness,
She no longer saw a girl left behind --
she saw a woman
who stayed,
even when no one else did.

The voices that once told her
she was unworthy,
unwanted,
unlovable --
they still whispered
But she didn't listen anymore.

She had become her own shelter.
Her own home.
Her own proof
that even the forgotten
can remember who they are.

Because buried beneath the wreckage
was not just a flicker --
but a fire.
Small. Quiet.
But steady.
And wholly, completely hers.

She wasn't healed.
But she was healing.

She wasn't whole.
But she was rising.
She found her fire --
not in anyone else's arms,
but in the steady, trembling beat
of her own heart.

© Dark Water Diaries

raised voice, the slow crumble of
my own self worth, they grabbed
me and screamed into my face.
"You could never understand!"
Maybe you're right,
but I know one thing.

you didn't need to hit me
to have been abusive.

Recently, I've been feeling sad and alone.
I think it's mainly because I'm scared.
I'm scared that my past will come haunting me again.
I feel like I'm exaggerating but.. I'm not.
It felt like emotional abuse, mental abuse coming from someone you thought loved you, or.. At least they'd say they do, and then emotionally block you out, ignore you, blame you, make you feel like you're the problem, like everything is your fault..
And then you feel like you're going crazy.
I was mentally NOT okay..
I needed someone, but felt like I had no one
I have supportive friends, but it was still hard, or eventually, they'll get tired of you, too.
Eight months of feeling drained, tired, burnt out, feeling used, doing badly in school, my hair falling out, sleeping all day, my body constantly being in fight or flight mode, body aching, and going through changes, constant panic attacks.
I felt unheard, not loved. I was silenced, walking on eggshells, crying every day.
I lost myself to someone childish.
And well.. Because I love deeply, because I care and was hopeful. I'd say it's okay, he will change.
But now I'd never be able to get that old lover girl version of me back.
I've changed into someone who feels like they are too much and never enough.
I'm just scared to go back to all of that, to fall into that same emotional/mental state I used to be in. It was awful.
To feel like things I'd ask for was too much, that I was too much But I wasn't..
I was only asking for love, comfort, words of affirmation, to spend quality time together, to talk to one another, to have deep meaningful conversations, to connect on a deeper level of intimacy..But I mostly mean emotional connection to be able to understand each other to KNOW each other, but I guess that was too much right? Did it made you feel uncomfortable?
But you were okay with being intimate right? Touching my body, doing ****** things, even when I felt uncomfortable
But it wasn't okay to talk about our feelings right?, how we felt and the things that made us uncomfortable.
But it's okay, I'm just an idiot.
Sometimes I don't understand why I took you back when it was still hurting.
I still cry at night, I cry to your voice, I cry at the sight of you because it hurts, because I'm scared to be vulnerable with you again, I'm scared of getting used, I'm scared that you'll get drunk again and yell and speak to me harshly the way my drunken dad would to my mom.
It really hurts.
I just wanted to feel safe with someone who isn't scared of my emotions, someone who isn't scared to take care of me. I wanted to feel loved and feel known.
I wanted you to be the only person I needed in my life besides family.
But instead you made me feel so alone
I'm different now, I don't get as attached to you anymore, I don't ask for quality time anymore, I don't care if you'll be able to come see me or not. I don't care if you get mad at something I do.
I don't care if you ignore me, I don't care if you kiss me, hug me , give me flowers, because it's too late.
How do I know your being real? Genuine? honest? I don't..
Not After Everything.

...
I’m writing all aforementioned while sitting on the edge of the building, in the silhouette of the morning sun. A waft of breeze departs me from the dreariness, unhinged. I found myself in and out of a tidal wave, as if drowning is the only way to stay afloat.
It all serves, too difficult to confess.

In susurration, the landscape exhales something in the color of trees, the temperature last night, and the slant of daylight.

How carried I was (still am) by the unexpected field we encountered, the confidant dialogue we built, the emotional walls we broke. There is a part in my brain that grief won’t grow. Summer in Cangyuan was not lachrymose. The lyrics of Under the Flying Clouds alludes every one of those who are too heavy for me, whom I can’t let go of.

I was not ready for my unscheduled departure from nowhere to nowhere. Many were the tears shed by me in my last adieus to a place so much beloved, and to everyone who makes the place the place.

Do I continue the same, unconscious of the pleasure or regret I occasion, insensible of any change in those who walk under my shade?