Dear diary;
at the end of the day,
I have no one to blame but myself
for this wall I have built
to keep everyone else
out.

I’d trade my heart
for your mind
My touch for your eyes
My soul for your love

Yet never, my mind for your heart
My eyes for your touch
Or my love for your soul

For how then shall I
Ever know you
Ever see you
Ever love you

I didn't want you,
I wanted love
and I have realised
that they are not the same thing.

You were a mould
that I poured my insecurities in,
a computer I tried to program.

But you are a sky,
stormy and clear and rainy and warm.

You were so blue when I longed for red.

I didn't want you.
I wanted the thought.

There are different reasons why you write.
You write because...
...you're happy?
you're sad?
you're delighted?
you're mourning?
keeping a secret?
But whichever reason you have,
you still write what's inside.
What other people can't see,
can't decipher beneath the words you speak,
can't understand the emotions flowing
through the sentences you can't speak out loud.
You write, pouring the feelings you can't let out,
you write. using the words you once thought can't explain what you feel.
You write, thinking that someone out there can finally discern what you're hiding inside.

she said,
And what she meant was
"You don't have to say it back
I just do."

When the world rejects you,
you become blind to it.