You can get f by the system
Or you can say "f the system"

Why are we here when
awareness cites through
the left and the right
Self questions self
There is no us and them
Just us
To effect our reality
we need to
become bigger than I

They're there, slouching slightly, tall and lean, their eyes like lapis
Who can't fall in love with them? I feel like it's impossible
Hair cut so so short, almost looking like a fairy
Their light voice and face dappled with small freckles

They can't see it, but they're absolutely beautiful
Literally everything about them, they're amazing
They are literally the best person in the world, they're perfect
I could describe them endlessly

They feel like dying every day and it physically hurts me
No one that nice or brave should feel like that
Why would someone so perfect want to end their own life?
How did they come to hate themself this way?

Fear of them, I fear them,
No not men, just the idea of them,
Actually no, the idea I quite like;
It’s the non-real reality that scares me,
Terrorises me just a little if I stop to think.
No it’s not men, it’s just people.
Maybe it’s all just my social anxiety,
Talking to me again in a slightly different way,
I mean, I know anxiety can change but it doesn’t, not for me:
I know me,
I just don’t know what I’m scared of really.

I can’t believe I dare to write this,
Go away Chloe, just shut yourself up inside again,
Then you won’t have to think about anyone.
Well that’s a lie, I think about people all of the time;
The people I could have, the people I won’t, people I wish existed but I sadly know never will
(I convince myself they will anyway),
And when they’re not real, I’m not afraid -
Because I’m not afraid,
I started this all up as a game.
Did someone ever tell you, you should never read lists of phobias you know you don’t have?
Well I’m telling you, don’t. You might get some.

But do you ever daydream of your perfect soul mate?
Because then I think of guys, like: real guys that actually do exist
And then I’m just like no, no I’ll stay away,
Not today, not tomorrow, I’m not ready.
Then I realise I’ll never be ready.
I’ve noted the slow progression of “could you really be scared of that Chloe? Sounds pretty stupid.”
So I’m like no, no I can’t be,
And then I get these little feelings sometimes,
Which makes me kind of go, “really are you?”
But I’m not because:
That wouldn’t make sense
And
People who know nothing on the internet say that’s sexist without knowing what they mean.
If someone actually had a phobia of the opposite *** or gender it wouldn’t be their fault, because it’s a ****** phobia.

I don’t have phobias though, not one.
Maybe social anxiety, maybe another one, maybe I’m getting one more,
But really I must just be exaggerating.
I know it’s not a phobia - that’s not what I’m claiming,
But when I imagine having a reality where...
Well it just kind of scares me.

are you okay?
have you been able to sleep?

every night I stare at my phone
as it all becomes about you
every day I continue on
just as I did before

you always thought you controlled me
you never believed me when I told you
I stood my own ground

but ill always wish ever night
I could look you in the eyes
and ask you

are you okay?
have you been able to sleep?

Mahogany separates me from the earth.
The world is quiet in this dull dark dark.
So I wait for the end to begin.
I wait for my life to finally end.

I linger in a mist hidden in an abyss.
Still sitting in wait for the deadliest bliss.
I'm happy now or atleast I think I am.
It's hard to know for sure something you haven't felt before.

So I go back and forth trying to figure myself out.
It doesn't work now I'm more confused then before.
Why does life begin only to come to an awful end.
This circle we live in is trully pointless.

Now all that brightens my day is the crimson liquid from my veins.
It flows then slowly makes me whole.
In death I trully fill my soul.
In pain I find my only pleasure.

Darkness.
That's all I see now.
It welcomes me and holds snuggly.
In it's embrace I feel the warmth of a friend.

A friend.
What did that ever mean.
They came, went and never stayed.
Surely if others had them then I was at fault.

A dark cloud rumages around my mind.
It whispers death into my head.
I try to breathe but don't have breath.
I dream of death.

There is something wrong with me.
I crave the night and hide from the light.
I am all that is wrong in the world.
So in compassion I take myself from this life.