To know the sea
Is to yield to its pull—
To ride the current
Is to let it carry you—

Harder to hold on,
Easier to give in...
So why not let it drift away?

At times,
Surrendering to the ocean
Is the better way to stay afloat
Than resistance.

asking questions about things
that shouldn't concern you,
just like your apparent lack of decisiveness
doesn't concern anyone else.
it's your own fault to try an live with,
give it your best shot.
so what if the score
has been rigged from the start,
so what if the odds are never on your side.
your mind is a weapon
that's always aimed at its host.
you don't know how to hope for the best,
but you've gotten so good
at preparing yourself for the worst.
asking questions about things
that were designed to hurt you,
looking for a weak spot.
drowning in hesitation,
hoping to run out of oxygen
right before your own consciousness
takes the chance to tear you apart.

Here, where they said something about the wind, and I opened my mouth wide for a storm that tasted like sailboats. There, where I stood behind curtains and danced around the idea of being free. Here, where I hopped between puddles, trying to find pockets in the road to bury the rocks from all the silence in my throat. There, where I first learned how it feels to hear yourself, to forgive yourself. Here, where I searched the shoreline, looking for a moon in the reflection and found a fragmented self. There, where I finally stuck my hand into the big belly of fear. Here, where I first learned that it was ok if you didn’t land on your feet. There, where I began to appreciate the weighted days more than light ones. Here, where I tore apart my words and swallowed their jagged edges. There, where I let things go, let things be. Here, where they said something about the wind and I kept my mouth shut, letting the storm pass.

When my chest feels heavy, my heart surrounded by sorrow.
I wish to feel nothing, I don’t want to see tomorrow.
I search for the answer, wondering when this will end.
The question itself wonders, I choose death to be my lonely friend.

Now I am at my decision,  I recall every feeling.
Guilt covers my vision,  regret loses its meaning.
I don’t think I can come back, I don’t even try.
Who sees what this head has, when I was left alone to cry.

When you arrive at my ending, I will remain silent that day.
When you wonder what I was hiding, why I chose this pathway.
The mystery covers your mind, so does the heaviness of maybes.
I wish you to keep me in your good sight, that’s the last wish you can grant me.

Now I am not breathing, but I feel so relieved.
The sorrow is at its ending, I am stepping into my land of dreams.
It offers me numbness, what I was eagerly wanting.
I am immune to emotions ; finally, the heaviness has ended.

I’m a star,
Aligned with others in the dark,
Millions and trillions of dreams—
Gravitation pulls their light in streams,
And they shine so bright,
Yet each has its own plight.

She repeats patterns she learned from home.
She is blinded by her actions.
Justifying what happened.
She’s the hurt one,
not them.
She knows the answers.
No one listens.
That’s her truth.
People leave.
They don’t agree.
She’s alone,
Saying, why me?
Until the pain is too great to change,
She’ll see herself as a victim,
and continue living the same.
Isolated.

I have to heal my inner wounds.
I have to face reality.
I contributed to this relationship. (Mess)
I feel remorse.
I am ashamed.
I’m ready to start,
and face my inner pain.
In time I see,
I am at peace.
Thank you, me,
Thank you for not giving up.

Every now and then
I imagine another stance
Where i have a chance

I dream about my free self
An ideal alternative
Happy to be talkative

Free to feel every sensation
Free to live, free to love
No one judges from above

I'd achieve the gift of freedom
I'd dye my hair and get a tatoo
No longer would it be a taboo

Then i shift back to reality
Fill my mind with all the norms
While hiding all my thorns

No such thing as an exception
Only one valid version, perfection...

Hope is for the hopeful
pain is for the hurt
fear is for the child inside
sweat is for the work
song is for the listener
and voices for the listened
Home is for where love resides
only found inside.
In the images we create,
we ****** a part away from fate.

In each act we are alive
and in between our quiet minds
will find some reason we are silent
thoughts turned dark, thoughts turned violent.

Prayer for the faithful
soaring for the soul
how can we bestow these gifts
isn't that the goal?
Not to ask the bird to fly,
the wolf to bear its claws,
but to ask the kind to fight
and the killer to know remorse.

To change one mind might seem so modest
of a billion minds on the planet,
But even to change a single mind
would improve the world that we inhabit.

This fiend, he's black
but not in colour.

He tracks: not you
but your brothers' brother.

He wins and jeers
and sits and cheers
and loses and who says
strange words that confuses.

But for all his whim
and dashing trim
he's bound up, wound up,
he's ready for sin.

This skin he bears, drained and cold,
grows thin with wear, and frees his soul.

The Prantercalt lives inside
he's cosy, got a stellar ride,
but anger burning,
envy churning,
these the weapons at his side.
Don't let him out,
he'll run about,
and you'll find your mind'a turnin.

Things I'm good at:
- Keeping A grades
- Public speaking
- Making people happy
- Pretending to be okay
- Sleeping
- Making a fool of myself
- ******* up my body
- ******* up other people's life
- Crying
- Giving up

Things I'm bad at:
- Guitar
- Patience
- Managing my emotions
- Self control
- Self care
- Sleeping
- Socializing
- Communicating
- Being a good friend
- Being a good "daughter"
- Being a good Christian
- Being a good person
- Being a person
- Being anything

- Poetry?