I can feel my heart dying
it's pulse weakens
as I lay in this,
filth;

My life -
I understand
to be man,
I must kill my heart
raise it like a Mayan god
and give into the grey
it can end no other way -
I am a dog, not a man.

I used to have a diary that I named 'Tina' because somebody told me that it made writing easier. As a way to get me to journal.. ?
Dear Tina,
I feel so incapable and small. I feel like shit for all of my short comings. But more than that, I feel like shit for the shit I've had to go through. I hate how as I feel every feeling and especially when it gets bad, my mind instantly goes to the logical side of things. "You're feeling this way as a result of not taking your medication. You're feeling this way because of experiences you had as a child, and that's completely normal." And I list all of the reasons why I feel the way I feel. Why the fuck do I have to make logical sense out of how I feel and not just simply let myself feel?
And none of this matters at all. Because at the end of the day it's still going to hurt, and I'm never going to forget my childhood. And I don't know HOW to move on.
And then there are the good days and feelings of euphoria where I feel the pain and I am able to address it without letting it consume me. I know it's there, but there's so much more than pain. Thank god for the times where I'm actually really happy.
But tonight I feel like shit. And I miss my mom. And I even miss the house with ciggarettes in the flower pots. I just really wish I could hug my mom again one last time. And feel her heart beat against mine again. I wish I could have said goodbye. I'll never have that closure. And I'll never have a do-over.
I only hope to be a better person than I am today, and keep on growing. I hope to be kind and compassionate even when I've grown to be so cynical. I hope to never stop finding the sky beautiful and majestic, or the wind soothing.
And I hope to always be worthy of the love those closest to me give me. Because that really is what keeps me going when it comes down to it.
Those that love me make it all worth it.

I’m over it,
I say to myself,
It’s been years since I’ve last been hit,

By this rush of feelings,
This burning inside,
These different meanings,

It’s been a while,
And it’s the same as before,
I leave confused and you with a smile,

I didn’t recognize your face,
But you saw mine,
In a crowded place,

You hurt me,
Even after I loved you
Selflessly

I set myself free,
I let it go,
But I can’t shake this feeling away from me

Of never being enough,
And that’s just what happens,
At the end of your first love

Spitting out tropes,
Expecting responses,
What a fickle thing,
Humanity is.

Why do I feel unsafe?
In a place where love
Is supposed to comfort me
Giving you my all
I will be there with my whole heart
Yet, I feel cold
Unsatisfied with these results
It must be my fault
For my expectations
Was not to judge
This situation we are now in

You let this behavior be okay
Because you could always get away
The freedom was there
And I was waiting for you in this box
You created for me
Making me think I was safe
Sitting alone in the dark
Waiting for your return…
You don't show up
Out there, you spoil others with your presences
I try to peak
Sotto voce pulling me into the light
Grabbing your attention
Discontinuing the thought
That I could see what you do
To me

Does it hurt to know I don’t want to be like you?
Does it hurt to know I want to be like me?

It’s okay for you to walk over me
I demanded for it
I asked you to treat me in a way
You would not want
That’s why I am here
Still, all by myself
In this box you made for me
I see a different side…
Over time and I can’t help it
But my faith to you is changing
Maybe because the faith you had
Was unfaithful and never ending
So with my changed thoughts
I address to you

Does it hurt to know I don’t want to be like you?
Does it hurt to know I want to be like me?

With this new voice
I scream!

Does it hurt to know I don’t want you?
Does it hurt to know this has been me?

An ocean apart,      but a bridge is built
and old souls meet on      the road less travelled.

She moved her hand from her pocket to his