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Juverine Wan Nov 2017
I overthink,
It's a regular process,
I overthink,
Is it more than just a regular process?

I overthink,
That it is common,
I overthink,
Too much for myself.

I overthink,
I can barely help,
The wounds on my hands,
prove me wrong.

I overthink,
yet this is not mirage,
This is reality,
So this is not thought.

This is not overthinking,
this is true,
It's not me who is overthinking,
It's you.
What does it mean - to overthink?
Is there even such a thing
To think too much?
What is to think less?
Thinking is just thoughts where one can never count them.
Harmful or helpful, the two hands of any ticking clock.
When people believe overthinking is debilitating, I say it's normal :)
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
ogdiddynash Jul 2018
(thanx all for the great suggestions)

women who wink

drive men to drink

together, glasses clink

tattoos follow in ink

and that ain’t the only thing


the tiller tied & forgot,

the slip knot jinxed

the sailboat nearly sinks


he cries aloud “you minx!”

I’m all done in,

you’ve got me sminked,^

you winking whilst me sailing on the oceans brink


she smirked and laughed that slinky mink,

“clearly you are confused - I’m a lynx,

count to cinq, don’t overthink,

join me overboard into the ****,

I’ll finish you off in the the kitchen sink

where drowning possibilities are next to nothink

promise, we’ll be quite in sync”
^Smink/To smink/Sminking/Sminked...pretty much any context you want.

When you smoke (strictly ****) and drink (alcoholic beverage of you choice) at the same time. Together these two factors get you wicked f’d up and create a great sminked out atmosphere.
Keyana Brown Jan 2016
I have a lot on my mind
but thinking about it
is a waste of time.
Ever since I've been lost inside
I'm trying so hard to be alright.

Did I....make a mistake by running away
from the thought of yesterday?
I never wanted to remember
all I ever wanted was to be okay.

Oh, what's the benefit
what's the point of it?
There's no need to mutter
I need to get better!

I just can't hold onto this  
so I don't overthink it
I should **** it up and quit.
I have had this problem many times before, but it's better to write a poem about it.
Let me know what you think.
ryn Oct 2014
On this carousel
You and I
Ringing bells
Time passes by

Scorching bulbs
Ornate bobbing horsies
Enchanting music
Tell of magical stories

I am here
On this side
You are there
Same ****** ride

Opposite ends
Placed we two
We can't see
But each other we knew

Friendly peeks
Directed to you
All I could afford
Keep you in view

Still rotating
Ride goes on
Chasing each other
No closer we've drawn

Enjoy the ride
Soak in the sights
Hold at bay
Reality that bites

Thought about
Getting off
Don't know how to
Come to a solve

Can't hold still
It's eating me alive
Can't just stay
Have to strive

Hand still holding on
One foot dangling
Second thoughts play
But bent on releasing

Take the first step
Don't overthink
Take the leap
Step off the brink

Close my eyes
Time is now
Just let go
Fate I must allow

Ready now
Time came to a freeze

Now off the carousel
Cloying uncertainty
Never been here
Unknown territory

In the music
Found familiarity
Unsure if here
Is where I want to be

What do I do?
Wait a little more?
Hop back on?
Or await what's in store?

Glad I waited
Glad patience I found
There you are...
Coming back round
Madness plays in loops...
A sick little spin on the carousel.
Steven Cole Aug 2018
If I could be a better man
I'd have enough insight
To always come up with a plan
In times of trouble, danger, or distress
I'd keep my emotions under control
And never run out of rational sense
No circumstances would ever drown me
Or rise above my head
Because I'd know how to swim the currents
And land on solid ground instead

If I could be a better man
I'd have the courage to pursue, and never fail to follow through:
Every noble goal I set,
And every appeal to selflessness
I am tempted to forget
There'd never be a task
I couldn't undertake
Even if it meant
My life was at stake
Money, time and resources
Would never grow on me
But I'd give of these objects endlessly
And at the end of the day
I'd still know how
To be completely and utterly free

If I could be a better man
I'd never fear the entity of change
But embrace this shrewd reality
Unhindered by its pace
I'd keep a face like solid flint
When revolution
Threatened to derange
At will I'd change my emotions
To better fit each phase
Each chapter of life
From page to page
I'd wire my brain to electrically flow
Smoothly and flawlessly
Everywhere I'd go

If I could be a better man
I'd never struggle with uncertainty
But always know what choice to make
No matter the options that lay before me
I'd never have to second guess
Overthink, obsess or stress
The presented realities and decisions of life
A special wisdom I'd possess
A knowing in my gut and heart
Of all that is my destiny
With the calm assurance of having what it takes
To get to where I want to be
The truth itself would become my eyes
And never from my heart escape or flee.

If I could be a better man
I'd always be a man of my word
Letting my actions always
Positively confirm the things you heard
I'd mean every syllable I spoke to you
With fiery convictions I knew to be true
I'd always know how to communicate
And wouldn't let grievous words
Relationships so vital and true
The stuff we're made for
And shouldn't undo

If I could be a better man
I'd be a fountain of virtues flowing
Ever going
Like a rumbling and roaring
and rushing waterfall
Dazzlingly Tall






  And Emotional Intelligence




  Relentless tenacity


      And overall confidence

                                            With surety

If I could be the perfect man
There'd be one thing I'd always know how to do
And that is, my friend, in all sincerity
Faithfully loving you

But since I know
I am far from perfect
I will do the best I can
And though I fail now and then
I will get back up
And stand
I will seek forgiveness
Down on my knees
Ask God for strength,
Grace and Mercy please
My weaknesses I'll count as blessings
And thank God I don't have to be
The Savior of the world
Who for comfort, has no need
MarcellinaGrace Sep 2016
People change. Pain changes people.

Trusting less, no more that of a bee not to sting once you let him sit upon your skin. A sting of a thousand stings your words can hurt. Just as much as no words spoken can overthink. What if they loved me like they used to? Would my heart feel full again? So full of a mothers’ belly of a grown child. Love me again like so. So I don’t feel hurt by those words you speak and overthink by the words you don’t.

Overthink by the words I can’t say. Alone in my head like a madman in a padded room wrapped in rough threads; no room to flail. Only to hold myself; hug myself; love myself more. To keep my words for they are sacred as my heart.

Shut Out. There will be no need for others in this space, for I am the keeper of my room. Don’t let anyone bother with the things in this room, no one understands these things, they will only use them. Feelings, heart and beautiful mind. Keep my door locked please, My heart is so tired; tired of fighting.
Michael Smit Oct 2018
I always overthink
Leaving permanent ink
One thought
Next another
Each and every other
The constant annoying utter
Boi Jul 2018
My chair is annoying.
Its support is no comfort,
makes my backache worse.
Also the wheels grew old.
They don't roll like the good days
It's blue, but the lame blue,
the ugly blue.
Can I get a better one ? Yes.
Will I ? Probably not;
after all, it's mine..

I'll probably overthink it and stress too hard over a new chair.

This one does fine.
keep writing about misery everybody.
*I actually changed the chair last night
Valeria Remigi May 2015
My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder causes me severe anxiety.

It's hard. To have it my way. It's hard. I overthink it. The images of the little things replay in my mind.
I can't seem to hide.

Why do I have this fear? Just make it all disappear. It's not reasonable yet it feels so intense.
I feel tense. I am not satisfied with my presence. I feel uncomfortable.
Why am I not content with my surroundings.

My disorder involves both obsessions and compulsions that take up lot of time and get in the way of important activities that I value.

So many mistakes that I need to fix.
So hard to perfect everything.

The line I drew isn't straight, I have to start all over.

I need to wash my hands again. It's been 5 minutes since I haven't.

Don't bite the Kit Kat, break off each stick and eat it.

The clothes in my closet should be hung up and organized by color.

My picture frame isn't hung up in the middle of the wall.

My food should not be mixed with the side dishes or I refuse to eat.

My apps aren't on the right page of my phone.
Twitter should be under social and instagram should be under photography and if it's not, it's wrong, it's all wrong!

I need to wash my hands again it's been 10 minutes since I haven't.

The tv volume should only be an even number or a multiple of five.

Why is my seatbelt twisted?
My mind is twisted.
All these errors are persistent.
So hard to resist it.

I am not leaving my house until my phone is 100%, 97% and I can't stand it (will not do. )

Mother tells me it'll be alright after i take my pills...I agree to as long as the pills are sorted by color
I dont really have OCD like intensely but I hope you like it
ls Aug 2018
I rest my head in the dusky hours
early in the hope I'll awaken refreshed
instead in the lonely hours
at 2am, 3am and 4am
my body rests
while my mind races with complex thought
caught somewhere between sadness and complacency
the past present and future merging into one
clashing and colliding
working hard into the night
sending my heart to palpitations.  

I close my eyes and the words I see written on my ceiling
are engrained on the insides of my eyelids
crawling with the spiders
I overthink instead of sleep
I dream in my conscious state
of what could've been
what is
and what might be
restless in a state of exhaustion
lucid in a state of total consciousness
hopeless to stop the relentless tide of my imagination
from rotting my brain inside and out
ruining any faith I have in a night of sleep
or a day of clarity and competence.  

The thoughts leave when I rise again at 7am
as planned
with the chiming of the bells on the nightstand
my head snaps into reality again
focus returns in the form of routine
get up, go
move on, mend.
Distracted and oblivious
my lack of sleep haunts me
until I repeat this dull cycle again tonight
I live my nightmares in the lonely hours
at 2am, 3am and 4am.
Johnnie Rae Apr 2016
I want to write you a trilogy on the stages
in which our relationship formed.
The first book would be solely based on the day
that I stopped treating your text messages
like active landmines. Stopped tiptoeing.
No longer being afraid of what your affection
would do to me once I submit to it.
It would be based on the first step I took to
stop being so **** afraid. From that very day
you've helped me in ways I'll never be able to fully explain.
Helped me let go of fear and trepidation, and open
my heart to the greatest thing in the world; your love.

The second would revolve around the first time you kissed me.
I don't know if you noticed, but my knees buckled
like seatbelts and I shook like glass window panes in torrential rain.
That day you awoke something inside me that I didn't know existed
but I'm so glad you found it. Like a stray kitten I was lost
and you brought me back home without questioning where I'd been,
and I'll never fully understand why, but I guess it doesn't matter.
You've taught me not to overthink things, to just revel in the moment.

The third would be set in here and now. Every forehead kiss
and stolen glance sums up to another page, every loving gesture
is another chapter. We are creating something people wish they
could create for themselves. A love that belongs in museums
to teach the world what it really means to give yourself to someone,
with no fear, and not a single ounce of regret.  To say that you changed
my life is an understatement. You altered my way of thinking.
Took a broken thing and made it new again. Made me, new again.

And with every word that slips from your lips I am reborn.
Deb Jones Sep 2017
Don't overthink me
You were lonely for a companion,
To share your hopes and dreams

And you thought of me
Because you liked me well enough

You wanted a woman to sleep beside
You wanted a mate for the rest of your life

And you thought of me
Because you liked me well enough

You were worried I would pick someone else soon
That your time would have passed

You were anxious about who
Was going to be there for you

And you thought of me
Because you liked me well enough

You were troubled
You didn’t even know why.

I could see you clearly.
It didn’t take much insight

You have talked yourself
Into thinking of me as yours

Just because I have been here for years
Because I have been here for you

Doesn’t mean I want you inside me
Doesn’t mean I want to lay underneath you

It just means I love you
And I am your friend.

I made you feel like a man
When the world was trying to unman you

Please don’t make me want to hide from you now.

Don’t pour unto me all that you need
I can't be that person for you

I am your friend
Just let me be a good friend again.

Your feelings for me haven’t changed.
What you feel is the same caring you have always had

Don’t overthink me…..please.

Let me be your friend again
To a friend that I love
sleeplessnxghts Dec 2013
That nefarious disorder that usurps my sleep every night holds the anchors above my head
And once the looming presence creates an unyielding uncomfortable feeling within me-
The anchors are dropped at once as I clutch my heart and watch my life flash by in intense but short clips reflecting off of my irises
Drowning in a waking nightmare consisting of life-altering decisions yet to be made and a ubiquitous, haunting past that never fails to ascertain me, despite the innumerable heat runs I've taken to escape it's chokehold
Wistful versus Wishful thinking keeps an insomniac busy at night- contemplating the universe's unhealthy obsession with showering sullen loads upon my already feeble stature and yearning for a change to form like how the leaves just fled the trees they were accustomed to for so long
Ruminative habits that not even the toughest of diamonds could scratch to erase them from my routine nightly thinking
But I am constantly torn between resenting every constant and vowel meant for you and all of my feckless attempts at achieving perfection
And optimistically hoping for a banishment from all negativity, and acceptance of the elation spreading faster through the airwaves of people open to recognition and reversal
But my anchors are breaking through the floor boards as my weary but restless eyes scan the page for errors and I am cautious in giving them a tug out of fear of a perpetual fall that insists on torturing me through an insomnia-flavored death-to-be
What is to ensue after countless hours of wistful and wishful thinking?
Am I to write until the moisture leaves my fingertips and the blood rushes to my head because my amygdala is housing all of my aggressions and fears, close to explosions upon anything in my vicinity?
Or am I to close my eyes and daydream of better, happier times to arrive at my front doorstep sometime in the near future?
But my overactive thoughts stimulate several situations that could play out, and the ones I decide on making permanent effects in the future are the ones that end with me crying and hopeless
Maybe the life of an insomniac is even worse than people think- it is not the fact that we do not sleep that unnerves us, it is the fact that when we do not sleep, we overthink, and when we overthink, we depress ourselves with all of the outcomes and possibilities that can arise from the most trivial decisions to the most climactic ones
My anchors act as my comforter and hold me tight during my REM sleep when the vivid and electrifying dreams and nightmares play simultaneously like a horror film I am entrapped in
I hone in on the conflict and I am taken away in shackles into dreamland, a world worse than reality
And I cannot lucid dream, so my control, my grip on the direction of the thoughts slips away and the fabrication of my unconscious takes over until I wake up every hour on the hour breathless and sweating
I awake at all the wrong times, on all wrong sides of the bed
And falling back asleep is a difficult task to carry out each time, because of the lack of melatonin that seemed to be crossed of the checklist of necessities of being born
And so the cycle ensues for the next 5 hours
And I continue this routine day in, and day out
This is the life of an **Insomniac.
ryn Mar 2017
I tinker
I overthink
I mull over
I sink

I entertain
I disassemble
I ascertain
I gamble

I play
I rewind
I play again
And again
I find

I reassemble
Still I sink
I'm in battle
When I overthink
Isabel Aghahowa Jun 2019
no longer will i live ashamed
of the love i have for the beauty of ***
it leans so closely towards the soul
resting upon its aura

Until proven otherwise
i will continue to live alone with this newfound
pride and fortune
for it will never end this bold admiration i have
for the human body and the many things it creates and devours within itself
all for the purpose of pleasure and satisfaction
i cannot help but be deeply inspired by it all
feel overwhelmed by its thunderous aesthetic brilliance

We breathe into fear
we grow into darkness
and out of a primal and immovable void
as if it was meant to be left unknown
and stuffed into the dark

Often ruined by our tendency to overthink
often degraded or stolen
misjudged and maltreated
no longer is *** ethereal at heart
it now comes with intentions we dig to find
and learn to detest, intensely digest, or ponder
wonderfully and soulfully until it is all rotten

I hope to one day witness fearlessness
and untouched salvation  
beneath the spirit of an *******
a moment unfolded and left unstretched
by time and heavy worries committed to by energy and time
I hope to one day become unburdened and understood
left unspoken for
for these are my words on S E X

One does not have to participate to appreciate its effervescent presence in spaces
it is eternal and wonders like God amongst men
We were blessed and we shall be thankful
for when it is felt in full
by as many as necessary
don't know where this came from honestly but i really like it!
MAJD S Jul 2014
Stare at your father,
At the cornered sweat
Zigzagging between the Grey hair
Left on the borders of his skull;
At the spit
Exiting from the white bars
That once kept his words unsaid.
Stare at him,
While he repeats the same sentence
Over and over and over
Until the words curve spaces
At the back of your ears,
Till all you can hear is
“Keep your dreams in the depth of your pockets,
Dreams can float once your pockets are full”.
But my dreams are like plants
They need light to grow,
And my pocket is not exactly
The place I was thinking about.

Stare at your Facebook homepage;
The girls left an imprint.
The imprints were coded
And the codes became a covenant
Of which-
You gave yourself;
And every time before you go to sleep
You repeat the same sentence
“She is not the one.
You love her because she is an image in your head,
She is not the one.
The one reads books
And books have been written about her,
The one plays the right music,
The one creates scenarios in her head
And asks you to act them with he;r
The one loves you back
The one loves you back.”

Stare at the circles you’ve been forming;
The words you’ve said
That you now take back-
Pull strings on your intestines
Till your up chuck reflex
Kicks in and you start
Jotting them on paper;
Who knows?
Maybe one day you’ll even write a poem.
This is a poem i wrote about 6 months ago...But i just found it so i wanted to share it with you guys!
zoe Nov 2018
Did I take that text the wrong way?
Am I imagining the feeling when we kissed?
If you liked me you would text every day
If you wanted me you would chase
I hate these stupid games
I want so much more than the wait
I am dancing in my room alone
I want to be Lorelai Gilmore
I want to work better on my own.
Heather E Perry Jan 2014
You cover yourself with tattoos
to finally have something in your life that won't leave you.
You keep your house spotless
to make up for your filthy heart.
You read slowly
because the feeling of being passed over kills.
So you watch a lot of movies
to pretend for a new reality…
only to wake up 165 minutes later,
still alone,
still *****,
still overlooked.
Morgan Mercury Oct 2018
I did my best to show love to you,
but I guess I'm just too much of an amateur to figure it out.
During our golden hour,
I thought that I had you locked in my heart.
But in my darkest hours,
I felt you fading from my fingertips.
I know I can't make you love me,
but you didn't have to waste my time.
You really hurt me,
leaving me to overthink.
If you have other plans, I would understand,
but you didn't have to leave my messages with no reply.
You really hurt me,
making me believe that you really loved me.
Niko Apr 2017
Dark thoughts come flying in like a storm.
The way the wind takes me away.
The way the lightning paralyzes me.
I watch the darkness crawl into my arms,
knowing that they're only here to bring harm.
I wish I can go back to my happiest days,
when I never felt pain or darkness haunt my dreams or my soul.

Where are the stars that used to guide me?
They used to shine through my eyes,
telling me that I'm never alone.
They seem to move on, forgotten me.

I overthink too much,
that it's the end.
I don't know why I let it dig into me.
Small things become big things.
I always hoped that one day someone will embrace me into their loving arms.
Understand every dark thought coursing through my mind.
Feel my heart through their ears.
Face the reality that I'm not perfect.

I'm not a robot built through metal.
I sometimes bottle up myself,
I sometimes smile like I'm okay, but sometimes I'm not.
I can feel weak, but I know I'm strong.
I fought through the storm before,
I know what it feels like to want to give up.
It's such a strong urge, but I don't give in.

Because I have people counting on me, looking up at me, admire me of who I am.
I'm a good person for helping others.
I let them know that their not alone,
They let me know that I'm not alone.
Sticks and stones won't break our bones.
We are headstrong!

ryn Aug 2016
I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I gather...
I analyse...
I stow away all that I've learnt.

Because when the wind would blow
and the earth wouldn't understand.
When the world would tremble,
shaken by man's ruthless hand.

I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I listen...
I keep...
I stockpile in the shadows.

Because in my blood exists grudge...
And my bones, weary from despair.
My skin screams exhaustion
and my body feigns to care.

I am the hermit who lives in my head.
I overthink...
I hide...
I hoard all my thoughts.*

Because the walls have ears
and these pages bear eyes.
What my heart truly knows...
Is that your mouth tells only lies.
Shelby Azilda Aug 2016
Go to work.
Listen to music.
Go for a run.
Hula hoop.
Play Pokemon Go.
Play Pokemon Yellow.
Lay down and stare at the ceiling.
No, don't do that.
Get up.
Message you.
Know you won't answer.
Go over friend's house.
You didn't.
Go home.
Give up.
Go to bed early so the day will be over.
Dánï Dec 2013
It's crazy how things happen.. You meet someone and all is great.. They make you laugh, blush, smile, daydream, plan ahead. You can trust them so easily even though that's so hard to do. You both can have deep meaningful conversations and it isn't weird because you make each other feel comfortable. You feel yourself developing feelings- even the tiniest bit. At first you don't know what to do.. You relate to each other on a whole other level so you just go with the flow, you look forward to them being a part of your day, someway somehow. Then you realize you look forward to them too much.. You put too much faith on them, expect too much and so the littlest of things disappoint you. That's when you're sure you know how it'll end. That's when you overthink and ruin things. That's when you let another one get away.. unfairly.
Joe Oct 2017
The best poems are all about
loss and pain and suffering.
It feels more natural to write a poem
about a long lost memory,
Or a love that never worked.

Poets aren't allowed to be happy.
They’d run out of material to write about.

The words
content and happy
in the same sentence as the word
feels like your tongue
never sitting right in your mouth,
like teeth getting in the way
when making out
like an itchy throat,
not going away even after coughing a fit.

The phrases
You are and my boyfriend
can't be a real sentence
like how
unicorns and fairytales
don't exist.
They just feel like
two jigsaw pieces
from different parts of the puzzle
forced to sit beside each other.

The word love
just doesn’t resonate
with the beat of my heart.
Maybe because
my heart stopped beating
a long time ago
and my brain had to carry the workload
so I think twice as much as I should
I overthink.

I may be the only poet
who doesn’t want to be happy;
a ******* clinging to heartbreak,
and loss and pain and suffering.
because it’s easier to let heartbreak
wrap myself in its familiar arms
than to experience an adventure
with happiness wrapped in mine.
i don't know how to love

SIght Sep 2014
As humans, we are quite thoughtful
Given such a beautiful and powerful mind
Yet we aren't trained to utilise its magnificence
So at certain times we tend to overthink the awful
And dwell on all that we know
If only we had continued to explore as children
O' I wonder what is there to find
In our society though, conforming is virtue
So what fate will befall me if I stray far from the collective mind?

We speak of the Unknown as if we know it
It's majesty forever lost in a fugazi
Our own little lie in our own little world
Try as we might she remains unknown
A wonder untold, a joint unrolled
And as her mysteries unfold
She reveales herself again as we had always known

The essence of something is Nothing
The essence of thought is Being
For it could not exist without it
Without silence, sound would not be
Without space, matter would not be
It is the home of awareness
It is everlasting abundance
It is the beginning and the end
Abbie Argo Apr 2013
be still

it is far past
Sarah Oh Aug 2015
When we try to look for answers, it leaves us with more questions
When we overthink everything, we suffer from nothing but depression
We make sense of our surroundings by holding onto things we believe in
We just have to let go of we've been
We're just tired and need somewhere to begin
Journey of Days Jun 2017
stress injury is concussive
compresses and pummels
rewires and reroutes
rumination rules
tossing and turning in it’s bed
rumpled and flung pillows
a mountain of mismatched linen
pushing the brain to limits
pulsing then seeping
beyond skull
I have had enough
craving colour co-ordination
with simple, single-strand thoughts

monica shomali Feb 2014
he told me he finally understood why i wrote about things that have never happened
he said it was because of all the lives i've lived.
i see everything in colors,
the nuns throat turning purple from screaming prayers,
the boys body turning black and blue by his fathers drunken hand,
the girl going home late at night, a heart beating and bleeding red. heartbroken.
but i remember him in every lifetime.
the hands on my clock developed arthritis
and my watch went into a coma.
forever stuck on the last time i saw him.
it has been 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 since we made love and he said 'i love you'.
and every 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 i've asked myself if i could have done anything to make that love stay.
i have laid awake in every lifetime with my phone in my hand,
like a poised snake waiting for a text that will never come.
but i guess i shouldn't overthink a text message.
if i over thought every unanswered text message i wouldn't have time to overthink anything else.
i have created a nest out of every soul.
crawled inside every empty cavity of the ribcages that were available.
swam in all of the collarbones and hips that i could find.
but you can't make homes out of human beings.
Kaede Mar 2019
It's been months since the last time we saw each other. I'm stuck inside our house, feeling contented of our chats and late night conversations. Some days, we fought over small things, and most of it, we enjoy our company together. At least, that is how I figured it out.

I wish this would last.

I want to laugh and love with you up until the sun will be seen in the east. But then I realized, you are my moon, and as long as you are there---sitting plainly in my own night sky, it is okay not to have the sun for the rest of my life.

There are days when I overthink, if not too much, just enough for me to suffer for an hour or two.

I overthink about the things we could have been if we never said our confusing feelings. I overthink the kind of person you could have been without me.

I am afraid that you will choose to forget me one day. I am afraid you will lose me, you will lose me in the process.

Loving you is not as risky as jumping off a 700-meter cliff, but to love you more each day is.

And every time I think about all the fears inside my head, I wish my mind would leave me.

Every time I think about all the fears inside my head, you will always come out alive, smiling. There is you.

And on this very day, when I open the door, there is really you.
I made this the first time we saw each other this year. I was from my Rizal class when I came to our office. My heart is racing faster, and when I was about to open the door, you were there, smiling. My heart still flutters every time I think that very moment.
Dinah M Aug 2014
It is when your head starts spinning
When your hand starts trembling
When your voice starts cracking
When your ship starts sinking

It is when you overthink things
When your life's like twisted strings
When you dread what tomorrow brings
When you feel like your opponent wins

Because he was your only happiness
And now all you feel is emptiness
And you feel trapped in this madness
That's what heartbreak always is

But heartbreak doesn't last forever
So my dear, go focus on your endeavor
I promise you, it'll only get better
All our hearts are in this together
"if my heart was bulletproof, i wouldn't bleed so much like i do for you"

× parachute by lawson ×

I kind of dislike this one but  at the same time I do.
emmaline Dec 2013
Time is something that is always changing, yet it always moves at a constant pace. My story includes such a small period of time. In one day, there are twenty-four hours, and somewhere in those few hours of January 15th, 2011, my life changed in the blink of an eye. Within seconds, someone I love stopped breathing. It changed everything. But, my story begins a few hours before that.
Wake up. I always have to tell myself to wake up. I wake up and it is a beautiful Saturday. I walk into the living room of my house, where the sun is shining bright through all the windows and I feel like it is going to be a good day. I usually wake up on the weekend home alone, but this time I walk around until I find my dad and my little brother, Phillip.
Dad: “Phillip and I are going to a Valdosta State basketball game later today, if you would like to come.”
I immediately think of my best friend James. James is a part of my family. He got along with my dad and brother better than I did. The basketball game with them would be a lot easier to endure if James went along. He is the older brother I never had.
I pick up my phone and call James, to invite him to join us. He doesn’t answer. James always answers. His phone goes straight to voicemail. I remember a time in the past that I called James with a stupid boy dilemma. James was in the middle of football camp, but he called a timeout. He picked up the phone for me then. I am always James’ first priority, so something seems wrong. I call Drew, James’ best friend, and his phone goes straight to voicemail as well. Something definitely seems wrong. I try to convince myself that I’m overthinking. I always overthink and I always worry too much, so this could be nothing. James is just busy. He’ll call me back later.
An hour or two pass by without response from either James or Drew. As I am cleaning up my room trying to keep my mind busy, I receive a text message from my friend Emily.
Emily: “What’s wrong with James?”
Emmaline (me): “What are you talking about?”
Emily: “I see on Facebook that many people are writing on James’ wall, saying that they are praying for him. Why are people praying for him? What happened?”
Little did she know that I was asking myself the same questions. What in the world is going on!?
Emmaline (me): “Umm, I’m not sure. He hasn’t been answering my calls. I’ll try to find out.”
James was a huge part of the church community. He was the first person that brought me to the church I’ve been attending for the past three years. He was a mentor to me; if it weren’t for James I would not have found the faith that has saved me. After those texts messages, I decided to call someone from the church to see if they knew what was going on with him. Mackenzie answered my call.
Mackenzie: “James and Drew went out duck hunting this morning at a place called Ocean Pond, and James is missing. Drew is fine, but he doesn’t know where James is.”

My heart immediately dropped to my chest. The gut feeling I had been experiencing all day that something was wrong was rapidly increasing, and I suddenly couldn’t keep still.  
My thought processes jumped to visualize duck hunting. I thought, when you go duck hunting, it is a little different from hunting ground animals like deer. When you hunt ducks, you spend the entire time on a boat. You don’t go missing on a small boat. James wasn’t playing hide-and-seek. James being missing meant that he was lost somewhere in the water. The odds weren’t looking very good. Maybe I’m worrying too much, but I’m being rational. Right? I put my phone down and slowly slid out of my chair onto the floor. I lay on the floor for hours, crying. My brother came in from outside and just stared at me. My chest was on fire; I have never felt so much pain in my life. The amount of emotional pain transformed to a physical pain that I felt in the pit of my stomach. The sun that made me happy when I first woke up now began to burn my eyes. I felt like I was sinking, but in reality the only person sinking was my best friend, drowning in icy water.
When I could finally stop crying enough to talk, I call my mom. My mom was not home this weekend; she was at the beach with some of her good friends from college. She did not take the news as heavily as I did.
Mom: “He’s just sitting somewhere in the marsh where the water is really shallow. Someone will find him. He’ll be fine, I know he will.”
I begin to feel somewhat better. I tell myself that this does not have to be a death sentence. James could be fine. I decide to call Mackenzie from church again and invite her and her mom to my house to keep me company while we wait for news.
Hours and hours pass by, yet still no news comes. The church and community decides to hold a prayer session at a local park for all the people worried about James. Mackenzie, her mom and I drive out to the park. Hundreds of people were at the park. All of them were there for James. All of us stood in a circle, teary-eyed, and prayed. I have never seen my community come together like that. Rival schools and teammates, people old, young, and teenage. Teachers, preachers, friends, athletes, fathers, mothers, so many people were at the park for James.
We went around in the circle and each person told their story of how much James meant to them. James was a brother to many. He was a mentor, a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a pal to laugh with. James was the one person that convinced a girl to graduate from high school. James was the friendly face that ate lunch with a boy that was alone and contemplating suicide. I had no idea that James meant so much to people other than me.
All it took was seconds, maybe minutes for James to drown. The water was below freezing. The gear that he was wearing was built to weigh him down in order to be able to wade in shallow waters. In deeper waters, he would surely and quickly sink. He drowned quickly, and within seconds he stopped breathing. However, it took search and rescue a month to recover his body. Days of worry and prayer turned into weeks. I had to return to school and try to go on with my life, as if I didn’t feel like it was all falling apart.

Finally, one crisp February morning, a search dog found my James’ body.

I was in my Advanced Placement Environmental Science class, and my phone rang from a number of different people. I went to the bathroom to return a call and found out that someone found my best friend’s dead body. I knew it wasn’t smart to hold on to any kind of hope that he was alive, but knowing he was actually dead made the situation suddenly very real. I tried to return to class, but I ended up sitting right beside the door, crying harder than ever. I had to go out to Ocean Pond, where I spent most of my time for the past month watching divers search for him. I had to go out there and see it.
By the time I arrived at the site, there was nothing left to see. James’ body had been recovered and I would never see him again. All that was left was a teary funeral, and abrupt good-byes that I wasn’t ready to give. To this day I don’t know how to say good-bye to James. I visit his grave, and I don’t know how to leave the picture of his face.
Losing someone you so deeply love so quickly is probably one of the most excruciating human experiences. I am so thankful that James left behind such a beautiful story, and such a powerful legacy. The first day I met James, he told me, “Hey girl. You know, I love you. I really do. I would take a bullet for you.” When someone says those kinds of things to you without even knowing you for twenty-four hours, it feels strange. But, James knew time meant everything. He knew that all it takes is minutes, seconds, to change someone’s life forever.
The thing that is so astonishing about James’ story, is that he understood how quickly everything can change. When James was alive, a fellow student of his died in a motorcycle crash. James was devastated that he had not reached out to this boy before it was too late. That night, in a note on Facebook entitled “The Clock is Ticking,” James wrote a short paragraph that showed the depth of his understanding of life. He wrote, “Take time to love someone. Today, Tomorrow, For the rest of your life. Because when that unexpected day comes that they pass on, you'll be left wondering what you could've done better. How you could have made them feel more welcome, and show that you do care for them. Don't wait until it's too late like I did. Show the love that Jesus has for you to everyone you see. Let your heart break for what breaks His. Christ is enough. Let Him show you life. You never know who He may touch through you. It is so sad that it takes a tragedy like this to comprehend how our days are numbered. Only He knows. Keep your faith in Him. He will bless you beyond belief. Our job is right now. This very second. So often, God gives me a little nudge towards someone.. and I put it off until the next day.. and then the next and then the next. Stop stalling. God put us on this earth for HIS glory. Not ours.. and so many times, the things I do always point back to me and my stupid self righteousness. So do something with me. Everyone. If this just touches one person, I will have done my job. Don't stall. Judgement is a heart beat away.”
Julia Mae Nov 2017
i wrote poetry
he partied
i would overthink
he would oversleep
too lost within the oblivion
of trying to numb away
while i was here
thinking about "life" too much
writing about it too much
i enjoyed wine
on a quiet Tuesday evening
he enjoyed liquor
on a wild Friday night

love does attract
i loved him
and he loved me
but he didn't want to live
and i
wanted to write about it

we're sitting
in a ***** garage
blasting music
with lyrics
that i am so appalled by
this is his life
this is
it isn't mine

i am
the quiet
Tuesday afternoon girl
who writes her words
to figure out
while he is trying
to forget about his
on a Friday night

these lifestyles
we tried to clash
for far too long
so sadly
too long

i left
with love still
beating inside of my heart
because you could never
love me
the way you love
your Friday nights
like you couldn't love
my Tuesday evenings

love is so
and deceiving
it brought us to meet
we both understood
that life is sad
yet only i
could see its beauty

and our lifestyles
were too different
to sustain the life
for one another
I haven't written too much lately but this poured out tonight.
Invocation Jul 2014
We have oddly sticky hands
oil, dust and sugar
newspaper ink and ceramic chips
feet track on moldy rug
broken glass and rusty circles raise the question
peeking into past lives of
each room
salvage ex-roomate's ex-girlfriend's
shampoo body wash flatiron dishes

we make a shrine to spools of thread
little lion man and plastic pans
real tuesday weld and smoke with KC
won't you hold my hand?

Let's overthink dating for a night
I will try to be by your side
my rougey lips are for you
and the moon
thank you

— The End —