10 AM, train

How do you deal with other people if you don't know how to deal with yourself?
How are you supposed to tell someone you're broken?
How do you explain to people that you never meant to hurt them, and you know all too well how it feels to hurt the way they do?

How can you ever expect someone to understand?

I like to believe that I will live throughout every single one of my chapters, written or have yet to be written. But I will forever be scared of the reality that maybe, somewhere, at some point; I will run out of ink and inspiration for a chapter. I’m scared that I may never make it to the end of the last paragraph, the last sentence or the last word.

I hope there will come a time when I will let someone into my life, who will help me write my story, where both ours will be a collision of different words that make up the human beings that we are. I promise that I will look past your flaws but deeper into why I picked up your book in the first place. I will be your lover and never the one who kills but the one who will mend you together when broken. To the first one who meets one’s end, promise me that you will write my remaining words, and I, promise you too to continue for you.

n.j.

I am all harsh edges, my sharpness cuts at at every turn. My heart is full of rage, oh sweet, passionate rage. I conduct everything with anger. I lack the delicacy of a blooming flower, rather resembling a blazing forest fire. I never really inherited my mother’s compassion and patience. She said I’d grow to understand that part of myself with age. But how could I willingly understand it if I was so infatuated by the allure of my own fury? The flame consumed me more and more, until I was blinded by it. It’s suffocating, but I enjoy every bit of it. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. I’ve associated myself with not only Wrath, but with Lust as well. But it’s a lust and craving for that flame ignited at full rage within my feeble body. How could so much be going on inside of me? I’ve drowned in myself. And Lord, is self-infatuation deadly.

i'm not quite sure why i am upset i'm not quite sure how my brain works all i know is that last week i was jumping up and down to contain my excitement and a couple of days ago i couldn't stop smiling and yesterday i laughed a lot and this afternoon i had this strange tingly feeling in my stomach that i'm not used to but it felt right and i wanted it to last but i guess happiness doesn't really last because the tingly feeling changed into this gaping hole in my stomach and i have been trying to scratch my skin open and not think of it i really really tried and i don't know why i am upset i only know that i just want to feel anything but what i'm feeling right now.

There is one thing you must decide-
Do not deny what you now feel
Delay your plans, forget your pride
Don’t push with doubt, just show what’s real
On love’s debut, you cannot hide.

One of my favourite things about poetry is how it can make pain and suffering sound so beautiful. The downside is that this also makes people forget about what is really going on and oblivious to how much hurt there is in the world. They become blinded by the light and forget about the dark. For instance when people comment on how beautiful poetry is, I don't think they realize how broken the writer is, I don't think they realize how broken I am.
I mean, I know we were never really in love - but man, we could have been.

It's been a while since I left
And you made your own life,
But it wasn't until today
That I got rid of the bitter after taste
Of what was once our love life.

You and I were the best of friends
And you told me all the things
You needed to get off your chest.
I was your pillow, I was your diary,
And for a long time I kept my silence.

But unlike a pillow or a diary
You knew the feelings I kept inside
And though you harbored them too
You could never be anything to me
As we were, as you said, "platonic."

When your world came crashing down
And your bed was no longer a comfort
For all of your tears, I came running to you,
As fast I possibly could to try and put together
The little pieces that were left of you.

I remember the first time we held hands
And everyone around us gasped and stared
Because what you and I, mostly I, had dared
To do was already a mistake, waiting to explode
A few day after, two weeks ahead.

For a long time I cursed every time
I said your name, every time I saw you there
With a smirk in your face, as if you were amused
By the pain and agony, the suffering
That was clouding my judgment in those days.

I had lost everything, traded it all for a love
That was never mine to begin with.
I gave up on some fiends, and I had made enemies
That threatened my very existence
All for a few days of dying out laughter and kisses.

What I didn't realize at the time,
Things I figured out after a few other
Failed relationships, is that I came on too strong.
I can't believe I had held on so tight
I had made me into something dark.

Everything you had known about me
Had turned black, and I didn't know
How to trust you behind my back.
I had lost my best friend, you had lost
Your diary and no longer had a pen.

I was too eager for you to be
The perfect girlfriend for me
When my heart had gone bitter
From the lack of attention
I thought I deserved for me.

It wasn't the first time,
And it wasn't the last,
But it did leave an impression
That I will never forget
And will always live in my past.

It helped shape my future
And get to know who I really was.
I hope that I was more than enough
Of a good friend for you to remember me
After you're married and give birth to another little one.

I guess I was just trying to catch up
And reminisce on the adventures
That we had as a teen aged boy and girl,
Wanting to be comforted
By each other's unconditional love.

Some days it physically hurts to leave my bed and my brain constantly keeps telling me everything I do is wrong. I call those the dark days.
I've been having trouble lately turning the light back on.