It is 5 minutes until 1:00 am, and I know my head will keep me up to 3.
my mind overwhelms itself.
and hates me for doing nothing about it.

It is now 1 and the same thoughts I had 5 minutes ago.
are now shown falling from my eyes, down my cheeks.
I am truly my worst enemy.
everyone talks about the healing process but not the dread.
that clanks around your ankles after.

I was a broken vase, not filled with roses or tulips.
Not loaded with water.
The pieces of glass, pieces of me I placed together.
(you can still see my cracks)
I am now an empty vase, and no one will grant me the presence of flowers.

It is now 11 minutes into 1 and happiness only pervaded-
when I went out with friends.
Is happiness just laughter and creating memories?
I guess I'll never know.

It is now 1:15
and I'm still not ok with anything I write.
I am still not ok with myself, at least I don't hate who she is anymore.
I am still not ok with how I love, how I express affection.
I am still not okay with how my mother treated me.
I'm not fine with anything at all.
No matter how many times I splatter my mind on these pages.
I won't feel okay.

I waited 16 years to finally feel something new, and at least I got what I wanted.
but this state of feeling and containing nothing is still familiar.

It is 1:30 
My mind is now vacant but only because I have occupied myself with creating.
Still disappointed with each piece I make.
It is the only outlet I have to escape from my experiences unless there’s a blunt
in my hand.
I do not wish for peace anymore, just a hand to hold and maybe a new lighter.
It has been 50 minutes, and I am still writing.

Still wishing to ring myself out like a drenched rag.
and to watch my thoughts, attempts, things I did, said, could have, wouldn't-
circle into a big puddle that dries away.
I know it is not that easy.
but to believe my placing here was not a mistake is hard.

7 minutes until 2
I feel slightly better, but the kind of better that will allow me to rest.
It is now 2:00, and I'm 358 words in, this poem will never be let out, and I am still here-

disconnected from myself and ambivalence fills the space in-between.

Do you still think about me? I know, I do,
If only you knew how much
I still I love you,

Our beautiful memories, to you
I owe everything,
Happy, sad, love and every feeling,

I even look in places where
I don’t find you,
Thinking you would look for me too,

You found me at my worst,
And loved me at your best,

Can I just see you once more,
To hug you and tell you with a
heart so sore,

That in the moments we held each
other’s hearts,
You were what I needed the most…

My life had got colder, seeping itself into numbness.
Coping wasn't possible or needed
because if I just slept or drank or took some sort of drug
I was okay
I thought we were both going to get stronger.
And a huge part of me bets I wasn't missed
when we pretended the other didn't exist.
I don't exist.
I wanted to feel something and at the same time
I was grateful that I couldn't.
  I couldn't stand to be here
wishing you'd make another account to talk to me
seeing if you'd just try a little harder
to keep me
or to get me back
but you told me that if we argued and I left the room
You'd just let me go.
I should have kept that in mind then
you said you loved me
And I wonder what love means
I always assumed it meant the will of risking all for one another
without the need to
I lost it and threw myself
to the ground
for the tears to pour
or at least trickle
and I couldn't even make the expression.
I left because of my own attitude mixing with yours
and I was too clingy.
Codependency is a ***** I think.
Not fair like Karma.
I left because I couldn't take the feeling of not being loved
I was so used to you loving me completely
I left because I didn't think you cared
and after Justin, I thought I knew better.
Even if I didn't show it
it killed me
and it's still killing me inside and out.
Istillloveyou.
Just know I'd still take you back
I just can't stop writing
without mentioning you.
but since it's poetry, I can do whatever I want
so I'm weaving you into every word
every space
every sound and meaning
Sydney Sydney Sydney

I feel really angry and stupid..
It's aching that you became my regret.
Up till now, I still wonder what exactly you were afraid of, for real, cause it definitely wasn't commitment.
I never thought uncertainty would be this painful but that's little compared to what you felt about my communication and trust issues and I'm really sorry about that, I really am.



I really have a lot to say, so much and I'm going to because there's no other person to say it to than you and I don't want to keep harboring my pain just to feed my ego.