One day, you wake up
and you’re not you anymore.
You look in the mirror,
but the eyes are empty,
like someone else is living there.

You didn’t notice it happening,
how you gave away pieces of yourself
just to fit, just to please.
A thousand small moments,
a smile you didn’t mean,
a “yes” when you screamed “no” inside.

You thought you were strong.
But you let them carve you down,
chisel by chisel,
until there’s nothing left but the shell
of who you used to be.

It doesn’t happen all at once.
It’s the slowest kind of death,
the kind where you’re still breathing,
but you’re gone.

And the worst part?
You did it to yourself.
Not with a knife,
but with silence,
with pretending,
with forgetting what you’re worth—
until one day,
you can’t even remember
who you used to be.

you’ve lost track of who you were —
a shadow,
a stranger in your own reflection.

you’ve erased the memory
of who you were,
now lost to the emptiness
you created.

I’ve learned to find comfort in the quiet,  
Where my thoughts are my only company,  
And I’m the quiet moments, I wonder
if the comfort of solitude is worth the ache of being unknown

I’ve grown accustomed to the stillness,  
To the certainty that I need no one,  
And no one needs me.  

But sometimes,  
A flicker of something else emerges,  
A longing I can’t quite place or name.  

It comes in brief flashes,  
When I see others laugh together,  
When I hear someone speak my name with genuine care,  

And for a fleeting moment,  
I wonder what it might feel like.  
To be held in the circle of someone’s warmth,  

To be seen not as a passing shadow,  
But as something more.

Yet, just as quickly as it comes,  
I pushed it away.  
Perhaps it’s safer here.  

In the silence I’ve known,  
Where there are no expectations,  
No disappointments,  

Only the steady rhythm of solitude  
That has always been my own.  

Still, sometimes in the quiet of the night,  
I wonder if, somewhere deep inside,  
I am waiting for something  
Or someone  

To break through this stillness,  
And remind me what it means  
To belong.

Why does it always come back to me,
Not having those around when I need them most?
Is it just me, lost in silence,
Not communicating, feeling like a ghost?

For all that I do, all that I give,
I wish for understanding in return;
I’m tired of being the strong one,
The one who knows yet feels the burn.

For once, I need someone to see,
To understand without my having to spell;
I know I sound like a broken record,
Caught in this cycle, trapped in this shell.

I try my best to be there, to care,
Postponing my plans, leaving troubles behind;
Pretending I’m whole, while I’m barely aware,
Hoping for warmth, a connection to find.

Is it wrong to expect, to want a reply,
To hope for a check-in from those I adore?
Is this what friendship means, a soft, quiet sigh,
A dance of giving, but always wanting more?

Did I miss the memo, all these years long,
Foolishly dreaming of bonds that could thrive?;
Is this what it feels like, to search for a song,
Only to find it’s just me trying to survive?

Who do I ask when I’m weary and worn,
Tired of being the one with the words?
I loved those who listened, but now I’m forlorn,
Only to find they speak only for their own.

Yet still, I hoped for someone who knows,
Who loves words as deeply as I;
But they speak for themselves, as the silence grows,
And I’m left wishing for just a reply.

Is it too much to ask for a few simple words,
A flicker of kindness, a moment to share?
In this vast sea of voices, where silence is unheard,
I yearn for a friend who will truly care.

prone to narcolepsy;
a second thought, like -
a can of pepsi.
sold my peace for
a moment’s notice;
for the panic that utters -
‘you better not blow this!’

i sulk, i cry, i moan… it rains -
the clouds pull closer to
the gravity of my pain;
the birds find shelter at
the neighbour’s windowpane -
they leave me to dry in a room -
terrified, and insane.

i can feel the bed
warming up to my shape;
there’s a stain on the pillow
that reeks of sour grapes -
i try to rub it off,
but give in to my human make:
i curse the neighbour’s birds -
through a ****
on the moss-green drapes.

i hope it’s worth it:
all the trials, and the errors.
i long for a night,
devoid of terror -
so i may sing for a while,
with nothing to lose;
‘to be, or not to be’ -
left to me - to choose.

there will never be the time so can i say something hurtful
can i sink my hand into your chest do i even have the power
like you would ever say
but i want to never see you again i want the notifications to stack i want to live a different life and i wonder if my doctor would agree and i wonder if youd just let it happen and if that would make it better make it easy if you could just never
i just want to say it i just want to say it
is this as good as it is going to get
should i quit while im ahead
as if i was ever anything but two blocks behind at least i was always looking forwards but the trouble is i never looked both ways so what is all of this even worth when my body has become my grave

I have ten tiny candy hearts
Each one on one
Balanced in the air
Crocodiles teeth rot
They cry and sob in tears
They make the river salty
Complaining of no more candy
I watch and shake my head
The deals that must be made
Require no more candy
As i climb down off the ledge