who am i
to write about a boy that doesn’t belong to me?
your hand isn’t mine to hold, lips to kiss.
i am meant to be in solitude,
but oh how i wish
to have someone i don’t have to explain myself to,
someone i don’t have to apologize to
for my involuntary flinch
when i hear certain words.
someone who will tell me
“baby it’s not your fault your past is so ******* up.”
and we would swallow bits of the stars
so we could share the stories of our ancestors and
read each other’s horoscopes and
ooh & ahh about
how compatible we are.
oh how i wish to have someone
who will make me forget
i am meant to be in solitude.

Who made these rules and words we speak, the decision of good and evil defines as the laws of gravity , what goes up must go down.  Where there is life there to will follow in death . Even the flowers that bloom wither away with time , soil begins to mold as the waters drip from the sky and the sunshine heats the world . Opposites attract and love and hate. Who made these rules we crave . Heaven to hell, right and left, sinners and saints , to rich and poor who made these rules we say

I will
love
every
one
of your
one million
layers

I am depressed again.

I'm not mad at myself for it.

I realized because things that don't usually bother me
Are starting to eat away at me like invisible cancer
That doesn't show up on the scans
But I can feel it in my chest
An illness only I can see

I am diseased
Mentally

My brain has been infected with bugs lately
Everyone of them attempting to convince me I am not worth the work or the money or the hurt
That maybe none of this matters
That maybe I miss them

That maybe
It still makes me sad
To wonder about.  

I started staying up late again
Feeling sad and alone into the early hours of the morning

Depression is so frustrating because everyone around you has no idea what's happening so you just stand there talking nonsense trying not to let them peek but some part of you wants them to understand so badly

But how could they?
After all

Depression lusts after lonely
Depression sweeps isolation up in his arms and twirls her
Romantically
Depression loves that I love how I write when he's here
Depression doesn't have a name
But when he visits me I am split between angry and nostalgia

Because I know sad
Well
It is familiar
It is like family
It visits me
And I cannot decide how long it will stay
But I can brave conversations

I cannot run away.