There's a difference in knowing who you are,
And why you are.
Because the past can't be changed.

They say insomnia is a writer's best friend
When 2 am thoughts become conversations with the moon, as she reveals her secrets from within
And you cry or insanely laugh while hoping not to break your pen
It's at night, peak hours of the morning, when those twisted emotions decide that they've had enough and break free from that daytime zen
The happy face slides off and the pain comes crashing in
3 am thoughts race as you hope your brain will shut off or the sun wins
Either way, when the next night hits, you'll be laying in bed with your notebook and pen watching the clock all over again.

My mind is like a snowflake
it started out innocent
so pure and remarkably fragile to the touch
but sure enough, this snowflake finally touched the ground
normally a snowflake would melt
but this was no ground, this was a cliff
so icy and brutally cold, nearly unbearable
the once snowflake, turned to solid ice
overtime all the built up pressure on top of the now ice
has finally been triggered
whether it was too much pressure of the new snow, the rain, or perhaps even some slight wind
an avalanche is now cascading down the mountainside
the snow is constantly rolling down the steep *****
nothing can stop this downward spiral until it hits the bottom
then it finally hit
oh so loud it was too

It's 2am

Shadows dance across the walls
and the floor boards creak under
the weight of the silence.

It's 2am

Sleep eludes me
while my thoughts reel through my mind
like film through a camera.

It's 2am

And the thoughts of you
begin.

for every moment i've spent  by only myself
lost within the waves
of my own thoughts
wish i knew who would stand
by my ground
and have me engulfed
in their arms, to which they would say

"i will stay, it's okay."

       --D

My depression tells me I'm not wanted
My ADHD tells me to go find someone who will want me because sitting here won't change anything
My anxiety tells me to hide from anyone who might want to talk to me
While my bi polar argues about if it's worth talking to anyone or not
My psychosis tells me that everyone I could need is in my mind
While showing me things I don't want to see
How do you find your point in life
When your head keeps telling you otherwise?

I know there's something wrong but I don't know what.
I know I have to change but I don't know how.
I know that I'd stop crying but I don't know when.
I know some people hate me but I don't know why.

Nobody loves me, that's what I'm starting to feel.
Nobody needs me, that's what they made me feel.
I am but a burden and that's what I'm feeling.
Torn between the thought of dying and trying.

I wish there is someone who'll listen to my rants.
I wish there is someone who will understand cries.
I wish there is someone who will tell me I am right.
I wish that someone would tell me: everything will be alright.

I wish to cheer people, when they have to deal with life.
I wish to be useful, to the ones who brought me here.
I wish to be someone, who would listen silently.
And not to be someone, who is selfish, nags and rude.

I wiped my tears, but they didn't stop falling.
I faced the floor and they just kept pouring.
I stopped hiding my tears, 'cause nobody noticed.
I cried 'till tears ran out and blood started falling.

I don't want to live dying, but I don't want to die living, like a corpse in daylight, walking.
Life is beautiful, life is cruel
Life is a gift, with endless burden

I should've been selfless, and learned to appreciate.
I should've understood them when I wished to be understood.
I should've been more careful, with the things that I have said.
I should've been a good kid, and listened to my parents.

If only I wasn't me, with a different family.
If only I had something I could do so perfectly.
If only my steps, had the right foot to start with.
Would I still be sitting here, waiting for my death?

I can see you from my 11th floor window, but you can not see me. As you reach this 4 way light you take off your vibrant red hat and stop. As If you're not sure whether to go left, right or straight. You ponder for 9 seconds and go left. What has your day brought you, that you come to a corner so late in the night, and don't know which way your going next? If I could, I would say to you I know just how you feel. At a time when most are lost in their dreams or even making love, you don't know which direction to turn. What has brought us to a point , that at such a desolate hour, you don't know where your going and I lose myself in thought for an hour because I see a person walking down the street? Most are in the comfort of loved ones but we are dealing with the demons in our head. It's quite possible you ran out of bread and desperately need to find a convenience store that's open so you can make the grilled cheese you crave.. nonetheless, May the purpose of your journey be fulfilled and  your hands stay warm. I hope when you reach the next stop light , it takes a few seconds less for you to figure out where you want to be. May the lamp posts light your way and the bitter air be gentle on your exposed skin. You don't know my name, and I don't know yours, but we are a tiny part of each others journey on this lost night.

Only at the darkest hours do i ask myself the questions i don't want to know the answers to. You may know the darkness to hide things but i found it is where the unexpected comes to light. The daylight hours are a facade of happily conformed routines, often mistaken for helping you see better. Caught up in the day, even side by side, we are apart. There is a distance between us only the darkness seems to fill. 3am when the world is at rest, it is just you and me and everything from our day we have left unsaid. The dark silence reveals the truths we witheld when the sun was in the sky. Maybe it is harder to be dishonest at night because there are billions of stars in the sky to witness it.