You scroll through your social media where people have sworn not to show what they feel like so their 'profiles' can be aesthetic to look at.
You look at dog videos and swear not to think about your dead dog with whom you never got to cuddle one last time.
You walk through streets you've never been to hoping that it'll lead to a story.
You kiss boys and girls you don't really like and pretend you're waiting for the three-days-later call. You constantly listen to Cardi B because you can't take another Bon Iver song.
You fake a smile, an ******, a brave face.
You look at where you're staying and pretend not to long for that one little park in Paris where  you could spend your entire life.
You unblock the ones you lost and feel a fleeting sense of comfort in knowing that they're not happy either and block them again, to feel 'powerful'.
You look back at your journey and sigh because you haven't done enough. You curl into your uncomfortable bed.


And then you realise you're not done.


You realise your journey is just starting. There's so much left for you to say and do and teach and feel. You realise that the best part about yourself is that you're hopeful, despite it all. You realise that despite all the bad that has gotten to you, there's still good, and you can create it. You realise that you've places to go and people to fall for. You've learnt to become your own teacher and your own pupil. You realise that the sky is not the limit for you. You think people calling themselves a work in progress is a cliché, but you know you're one yourself. You're not magnificent. But you will be.


So you light up a cheap cigarette and play the Bon Iver song. And you wait.

You have to accept that some people are not made for deep conversations, or for holding you together when you’re about to fall apart, or for keeping you from unzipping your skin, or for talking you out of suicide, or to love you through the worst moments of your life.

Some people are made for shallow exchanges, and ridiculous banter, and nothing more. And that’s okay. That doesn’t make them horrible people because they simply aren’t able to handle a storm like you. It doesn’t make you a bad person because you won’t divulge all the gritty details of your horror show. It makes you smart.

You have to accept that there will be people that cannot give you what you need. It doesn’t mean they are not worth keeping in your life. You just have to figure out who these ones are before you’re disappointed. And you have to keep them at arm’s length. You cannot expect everyone in your life to understand, to be nonjudgmental, to get it.

But that’s okay, because not everyone was made to impart wisdom, or wax poetry, or speak on politics and the depravity of society, or discuss how crucial it is that the stigma of mental illness be abolished. There are times when you have to get away from all that heaviness. You have to. And you will need superficial conversation about Kim Kardashian’s ****, or a debate on the colour of The Dress. You will need those ones.

So don’t go round cutting people off and dropping your friends. You need people for all your seasons. You need people or you won’t survive this.


I’m all out of midnight phone calls and wilted rose petals.

I’m all out of throwing out letters out of windows and building cathedrals of sand.

I’m all out of the avalanche of goosebumps your touch caused.


I yearn stillness now.
I yearn indifference.
I yearn to keep my head above the water now.


And so, your eyes are graveyards and I bury all words unsaid.