my first thought when i look at you
is
oh my gosh, he’s so beautiful
my first thought when you look at me
is
oh my gosh, he doesn’t get to experience that same thought

and instantly i’m filled with both guilt and pure sympathy
because how dare i not be enough for him
and
how dare he not be able to have someone that is enough for him



(looking in her eyes)
he gazed upon the inner galaxy, that sets within her. wdym

What does he do? does he kiss her? tell her she’s beautiful?
by then she says “I love you” and you say it too.
Words, Actions, Art, or Poetry..
can’t express the feelings given, and the feelings received.
she’s the world, the beginning of the family tree in which you’ll protect and care for.

just like how you cared for her in the very beginning...yet again,
your mind has thoughts like these constantly, all because of a simple glance in her eyes.
the galaxy that makes you who you are, but most importantly what you want to be.

you can’t tell me that i don’t hate myself
when i’m upset and the only image in my mind is that of hurting myself
when the constant thought running through my head is me dragging a razor blade over every surface of my body
i feel as though peace will come once i’m covered in a thick dark sticky layer of red

the joy that had risen in me is abruptly deflated
the rise of emotion had my body electrified for hours, and still my bones feel as though they are shaking, buzzing, reverberating with the left over ghosts that represent my happy
and it hurts

i’m so good at preparing for the worst
it could be years away, and i’ll get a hint of defeat, and ill be ****** if i wait for my demise
no, i’ll make it known the second it crosses my ****** up mind

shattered starlight is seeping from the holes i made

it is a sure sign of my defeat

im here with a blank face unable to process the hurricane of emotions wrecking my insides

not a single thought is one i’m able to capture

so here i lay

in a puddle of pulverized universes

dimming ever so slowly

what the **** am i supposed to do
i feel so empty
the thought of trying to pick up the pieces i’ve scattered around me makes me sick
my stomach aches with self hatred and guilt
and not anything that i can think of can make it go away
in all honesty i would be better off killing myself.
that sounds like a better option than getting high
or getting help
or getting ******
than any of it.
maybe tonight that’s what i’m supposed to do.

end it all.

my hands look thinner
i guess you could say i’ve been working out
working out how many days i can go without
without nurturing myself properly

i just hate eating, and i just love looking great.

i just want to go home

but home has only ever been a feeling

a feeling of longing

a longing to go home.