Take me by the hand and show me all your secrets. I want to know every little one. Tell me a story about your childhood hero, how much you love your mother, what you think about the corrupt government. Say everything you want to say; allow me to take it all.

We can sit and talk all night long. We can hold hands and tell each other lies, absurd and silly. We can make believe that we are in love, that we are meant to be, that the night is young and so are we. After all, there are times when I think it is what we need.

If falling asleep is what you want, then so be it. We can make a fool of ourselves and we can judge each other. I can put my lipstick on while you take off your shirt -- or we can keep everything on. It's all up to you.

We are good the way we are; not perfect at all but enough for each other. We are different but some things within us are just the same. You don't yell at others while I don't throw sticks and stones. Let others do what they want and let them wonder what goes behind closed doors; we are good with the way we are. We can do everything, or nothing at all, with each other.

My depression has to stop. Temporarily, at least. For the past two days, at the peak of my depression and hopelessness, I have become incredibly stupid. I have not been using my common sense and I have been constantly forgetful and stupid.

I am used to feeling sad and crying; I am not used to being stupid.

If my depression has made me unable to function as a proper human being, that means this has to stop. I haven't been acting and feeling like the me that I know. I may not be the most intelligent, bright person in the world but I have never been the stupid one.

I have to stop this depression. I really have to. I have to go out and kick some *** and become a rational person again. I am sick and disgusted of my own stupidity.

Her hands slipping into somewhere
You would not dare think about
Her lips giving you life and death
Without any hint of mercy
Her eyes yearning for your gaze
Into the parts you have yet to know
The excitement of her skin
Will never contain your fears
And, ultimately, your grief

Nothing seems to be going right in my life right now. Generally, I have not been very happy for the past... six months? Honestly, I am utterly unhappy and my depression and anxiety are worse.

It used to be about the man that I am in love with. If you are reading this, please do not feel burdened.

Now, it's about everything else in my life. I am restless and worried about so much. I want to move at my own pace but the universe keeps on testing me. I know that it's God's way of making me a better person, but good God, I am extremely unhappy. I cry all the time. If you ever see me put on a smile lately, you are in luck. Most of the time I can only see myself crying and wanting to **** myself.

I know that the universe has a plan, but good God, I am still trying to let go and accept and work hard. It's as if the circumstances won't allow whatever hard work I did to pay off.

I've contemplated suicide for more times than I could count for the past three months. I could feel its presence, its weight, and its shadow against the wall. I could imagine a life without me. I could imagine how my friends would be when they received that unexpected, dreaded information of a girl who died too young simply because her brain messed up her emotions. I could imagine the tears and guilt that my mother would have upon seeing my dead body. I could imagine the guilt and pain and anger that my father would feel upon reading my note. I could imagine it. I, too, could imagine you looking at my cold face, my hands and fingers covered in the shrouds.

I didn't want, though, to let their souls break because of my selfishness to leave the world without their permission.

So I will live.

I just need someone to talk to and to hold me and tell me everything will be okay. I am currently not strong enough to do that on my own.

One night after the third bottle of wine
You told me we should pack our things
And leave before dawn
There would only be you and I
Between talks and soft-spoken kisses

Let us go to the seaside, I said
Have you ever seen those crashing waves?
They remind me of the days wasted away
And the promise of tomorrow's strength

But there are sharks and krakens!, you said
Underneath the deep blue of mystery
Make haste and he will come at you
And you will be nothing no more

Why do we not climb the mountains?, you asked
Surrounded by mist of white and blue
We are not kings and queens of the world
But merely creatures of His mercy

Something lurks between the trees!, I argued
Deadly eyes hungry for lost souls
They were once someone's lovers
And now they have succumbed into the dark

Another bottle of wine, poured and spent
Your eyes are the firewood amidst winter
Fingers trailing my cold pale arm
You have made up your mind for our journey

The beach it is!, you proclaimed to the world
When your eyes reached mine, I knew
For a second, that was no tipsy talk
Perhaps one day I will take you to the mountains

Swing me back and forth
Till I cease to exist
And all that you will find
Are the times you lost me

If you find yourself looking for someone
To take you away from your troubles
And make you feel eternal bliss
Then here is a good warning sign above me
I am trouble in the form of an ingénue
My pink plaid shirt caught your attention, I see
What about my baby big eyes looking at you?
"I am your true love, sad and forlorn without you"
There is only me in this world who can make the boys feel like that
What do you want to say about me, baby?
A smart and pretty girl with sad eyes who longs for true love?
You bet that is what I am
And that is who I am
The question is, can you handle the nightmare that I am?
When my cherry pie gets dry and worn-out
I bet you will be the first to call it quits
I know, right?
What a deceptive-looking horror of a girl

Stars are beautiful to look at
But the ones within our reach
Are trees and flowers
That give life to our souls
Far better from any dream
Is one you can touch and kiss
With fingers that fit yours

A rose in bloom by day
A weeping willow by night
Half is what made me love you
Half is what made you leave

I can't write a poem. This is weird and surprising at the same time. And I'm happy that the reason I can't write is not because I'm utterly miserable. I am, in fact, incredibly happy.

I really should have believed it when people kept on saying that miracles take time, that God doesn't always answer your prayers exactly the moment you say them. I thank God everyday that I did not **** myself. In my darkest, most emotionally turbulent times, I thought about it again and again. I would wake up and look out the window of my room and think, "Will the fall **** me instantly or will it paralyze me?" I thank God everyday for allowing me to live and giving me this life, perhaps not perfect but ultimately a good one.

I think I am abusing this platform for random scribbles and musings instead of actually writing poetry but you know what? This is my page, so might as well do what I want.

Last night I had a very long chat with my platonic partner. He has been my best bro since high school and we know each other more than anyone else -- and no, we are not gonna be romantic.

We talked about our personal lives, love, mistakes, and all of that. I asked him all sorts of things and he told me everything. I related to him my stories and my current situation. What is funny is that after all this time, we both still have a Robin. Do you know what a Robin is?

A Robin is someone you love or have feelings for that you will never truly forget; someone whom you believe will make you the happiest. What I want to stress is a Robin is not real. It is born out of an infatuation, admiration that we perceive as love. A Robin is an idealized version of a partner, not a realistic one. A Robin, ultimately, is just a fantasy.

He talked about still finding his Robin very beautiful and attractive; he also admitted that he does not know his Robin very much. I am, God willing, meeting my Robin in a few days while he is in town. I still think him an interesting, attractive person, but I only understand him so much. I understand that he would have made me happy but I wouldn't have made him happy. I know the kind of person that he is and I know he won't be happy with me -- romantically.

Then, my platonic partner and I talked about feelings. About the "real deal". About how to tell if someone is in love. It is funny because he understands what it means when other people see an attachment without us having to explain anything. Something similar happened to him. When you have feelings, you look at someone differently. For me, though? When I have feelings, I start keeping his name to myself. That is why I still don't always tell my friends about his name; even the ones who already know his name will always find me referring to him with an alias or just "him". I believe in names. Name-dropping someone too much can de-value the relationship, so I want his name to be mine to say, when we are together, when I am half-asleep next to him.

I am incredibly happy. We are still learning to keep up with each other's pace and to adjust with each other's character. But you know what? It's fine. It totally is. All I want is to sing him a lullaby and fall asleep in his arms.

How does anyone conquer the demons in their head?
My heart and soul are aching but I know not how to tame them

Tell me how to say goodbye without ever having had a real hello in the first place.

I need to be saved by someone else, otherwise I might just die.

I saw him and I felt something, almost like love, but it wasn't love at all.

At the touch of love, everyone becomes absurd and silly.

I am both a young woman with sass
And a little ******* the verge of crying
They are both who I am
If you cannot handle both
You deserve none of me

Dear God,

Let me keep this moment forever. Please.

I desire you, all that you are, all that you can be, and all that you are not.

Can I have just one thing in my life going on perfectly?

Let yourself be happy, even if only for a while. If it is meant to be, it will find its way. At this point you just need to let yourself be.

Hey, at least you are only physically ill. You aren't suicidal or depressed; not as much, anyway. If it makes you happy then go ahead and give it a shot.

"We'll figure it out."
"Please keep smiling; I like it that I make you happy."
The words that make flowers bloom, wounds heal, and passions on fire.

A man can talk and share stories of his yearning and mad love and heartbreak and recovery and you would applaud him for showing vulnerability. He is being human, you would say. He is showing that even the strongest could feel deeply, you would say.

A woman can talk and share her stories of longing and being in love and heartbroken and eventually moving on to find the real true love and you would call her whiny and weak. You are supposed to be strong. Your life is not supposed to be defined by a man. Be tough.

Oh, yeah. We are so weak and sad and pathetic.

This is how I want to remember you
With your lipstick on
Wrapped in your favorite dress
The sun ever so gently kissing you
Until the birds sing you the one song
You were meant to listen to
Will you be with me when I am gone?
I am sure you will be
After all, that is what you promised me
For I know you remember every promise
And keep every memory with you

I write about you
In the back of my hand
On the margins of my notebook
Between the lines of the day's lecture

I write about you
When the morning sun reminds me
Of all the times that have been in vain
And of all the kisses I wish I could give you

I write about you
Because you are somewhere out there
And all that I am left with
Is the memory of whatever we might have had

Never thought I'd be that kind of girl but baby, you deserve everything: the good, the bad, and all the ***** laundry.