My laughter found yours familiar,
Like they’ve met before.
In some distant echo,
Behind a closed door.

A sound that feels ancient,
Yet somehow brand new,
As if every joy i’ve lost
Was waiting in you.

Your smile, a reflection of light I once knew,
In sunsets and stars,
In mornings of dew.

We speak in soft whispers,
But the meaning is loud.
Two voices intertwined,
Rising up from the crowd.

Each word that you offer,
A verse I once read,
From a poem long buried
In the back of my head.

And though we’re just strangers,
There’s more we can say,
For in laughter,
We’ve met in another faraway.

We were drawn to each other — almost instantly. A broken boy and a damaged girl who found comfort in each other’s company. A story old as time but this one rang more true. Though we found the love we desired, we still had depression, but for two.

It’s not you, it’s me. I know we’ve been going strong for quite sometime now but to be honest, I’ve found myself very unhappy with who I’ve become. I know we’ve gotten immensely comfortable with each other but in comfort, there is no growth. So I need to start taking risk. I need to start coloring outside of the lines because it has the potential to be something magnificent and beautiful. And if it isn’t, that ok too. Because chaos doesn’t always have to lead to madness, for there is truth in chaos, and that is what I want to find; my truth, my voice, my story.

I’ve held myself back because of this fear that I am not good enough, that I don’t have what it takes; that I don’t actually have anything important to say. But there’s something inside of me; something strong and powerful that wants to be heard. So who am I to cage that in? Look, I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t afraid, because to be honest, I’m terrified. But I think I need to live in this fear for a while to really understand what I’m capable of. I need to push myself and expand the dimensions of who I am to be able to see what I can accomplish.

I’ve been so focused on not failing that I stopped trying. I found solace in your presence and made excuses to not writing. But I can’t be that person anymore. I’m sorry Writer’s Block, I need to set myself free.

Sometimes I still get lost;
in a moment,
in a memory,
in the empty spaces yet to be filled.

It creeps though the cracks and crevasses
of my unconsciousness
like a creature,
trying to find a place to belong;
to feel alive.

It's presence is so subtle
that it silently slips it's way in
without notice
and builds its new home in my solace.

And like a wild fire,
it spread to every part of my body,
paralyzing my will
and holds me hostage to the madness.

Breaking down doors I've locked
and destroying walls I've recently patched;
letting my demons run free, once again.

Chaos ensues as I sit there
drowning in my fear,
my misery,
my loneliness.

Lost,
until the flames subside,
and my demons had their way with me,
and I'm left cleaning up the wreck.

A couple hours from now, as we are toasting a farewell to a neoteric past, a new year will emerge from the ashes of 2017. Like a phoenix, it will rise again, and sing sweet songs of new beginnings and manifest hope for a better year. We wait for this day in anticipation praying the months to follow will be anything but a repetition of a life once lived. We convince ourselves that we will be more productive, that we will be more active, and that THIS is the year that will change our lives. So we set New Years resolutions, we mark our calendars with exciting new adventures, we establish new goals and reimagine our old dreams hoping that in this new year, we can accomplish them all. But, for many eager and willing people, months will go by without any true transformation. And as the year draws closer to its end, they are again transfixed by old habits and excuses. Their excitement and determination will have faded into the mundanity of reality setting them back to where they were before. For a new year can’t be the driving force for change. A new year shouldn’t be the starting point for innovation. Because refinement shouldn’t be pushed to a certain date and time. And if someone really wants to revolutionize their life, why wait?

These thin walls couldn't keep our rage between us. Our stinging words would leak out between the space of the door ways and fill the house like rising water. The walls would pulse with anger creating more cracks for our disconnected language to seep through. And we would die drowning in the chaos.

So instead we stay silent. We lay on opposite ends of the bed and let time sit between us. We hold our tongues while we let our hearts sink into the lava boiling inside of our bodies. We wrestle with our own inner monologue arguing with words unsaid. Going back and forth between ourselves thinking that's what the other would say. Coming up with reasons why we're more angry than the other; silently resenting every second that passes by. Eventually we'll both fall asleep with heavy minds and burnt hearts.