I don't have any amazing stories about my life and about who I am
I don't even know who I am

And I wish I could lose everything and everyone so I could have a valid reason to end my life

I have the best parents
A loving sister
Dear friends
And they don't deserve the pain that would demand to be felt if I killed myself

I don't deserve what I have
I keep letting everything escape my fingers because I never held on tight enough
And pain is festing on my soul like a hungry animal thirsty for blood
Because lately, I am sure there is something wrong with me

My biggest punishment is being aware of the consequences people around me would endure, the aftermath of suicide

I pay my sins with having to live and disappoint over and over again

I am so so sorry. And I know you are tired of my sorrys. But you are never letting go. Because you love me. And I do not deserve that and it's only making things harder

Please hate me. Please.

It's not yet night for her to sink
But she closed herself and sank
Like eyes that are too tired to blink
And gazing upon the muddy river bank,
Suddenly, there were ripples in the water
As she sinks down into the river bed
But there was not a single call from her
As if she let herself be led
By water currents she knew so well

Have you forgotten how to float?
Or are there no souls around to tell,
About silent screams with a sore throat?
Did your roots pull from the mud?
And the current strong enough to break it?
It's a tragedy of the tiny pink bud,
who once sat on the murky water of two feet,
Being swallowed whole into the water
and not once experiencing a genuine woo

Oh, lovely water flower,

....Did you regret it too?

I must ruin your fantasies now
because there will never be beauty in such pain that makes you want to set yourself on fire

No beauty in having the power of making your parents think you are not safe if you do not pick up your phone or in causing them to have panic attacks every time you lock the door

There is no beauty in having a chance and not taking it because there is something wrong with you and you feel so ungradeful because no matter how messed up you might be, many others have it worse

There is no beauty in wanting to get cancer and die so you wouldn't have to do it yourself because it would hurt others less

There is no beauty in the chaos of staying in bed for weeks in a *****, messy apartment and lying about your life being in order

There is no beauty in sleepless nights
Eaten up by ether pain and guilt or numbness and debating whether you should let yourself live another day because you sure as hell know you are what people call a parasite and you don't deserve to be significant to other people

There is no beauty in being a coward and doing absolutely nothing with your life when there is only one thing you have to do, yet you stay in an overly expensive apartment all by yourself  wishing you could just hit the reset button and maybe be born as someone else or not at all

There is no such thing as beauty of madness and there never will be beauty in being me.

I saw you again last night
I didn't see you for a year
You changed
I thought I'd be a raging mess
But I didn't feel anything
Like you never meant anything
I tried to save you so many times before but
I was never going to be enough
And you looked like you were scared of me suddenly
Like a deer chaught in headlights

I then realized
I was falling in the depths of a pit inside some other dimension
In which we are acting like strangers once again

I can see how badly you are hurting
And it pains me too

You are the man of the night
And I am a woman of the moon

And there is nothing that could break me easier
Than seeing you sad
For you are the love of my life
And your pain is driving me insane.

.

page one
it starts with the wave of a hand
a simple introduction
'hi, what's your name?'
it starts with looking and seeing nothing but what is there
skin and bones and blemishes and human
it starts with feeling no cliche butterflies in your stomach
and no additional voice in your head
amongst the others
and no rapid pulse in your still-beating heart

page two
somewhere along the way the waves turn into inside jokes and small smiles
crinkles by the corners of eyes
and light chuckles
and glancing just a millisecond too long

page three
and, well, glancing just a million times too often

page four
and you write poems in attempts to make yourself believe
to drown yourself in denial
to avoid confronting the - nonexistent - blooming bud growing
sprouting from all angled corners
and cracking curves
and jagged edges of you

page five
spoiler: it doesn't work

page six
and it's strange because apart from seeing what is there you see more
or really you don't see what is there
you see what you want to be there

page seven
you see skin and bones and beauty and freckles and stars and constellations in eyes and ethereal -

page eight
perfection

page nine
except perfection doesn't exist
and what you see doesn't exist
it's just your unrealistic expectations piled up from miles and smiles of movies and books and manga and everything

page nine
and you know this

page nine
but it goes into one ear and out the other

page nine
and it doesn't stop you from claiming

page nine
you're in love

page ten
if love is just infatuation with a physical manifestation of your ideals without their consent
then i guess you're right

page eleven
there are butterflies bending, banging on you, begging to be released

you wonder when your definition of beauty became a name and a face
and you wonder when love became synonymous to pain

page twelve
the butterflies turn into birds and then bears and then freaking buildings
except these building are moving and apparently earthquake proof because you can't seem to break them down
instead the buildings are breaking you down

but the truth is no, no they aren't
don't you see?
you're breaking yourself down

how do you heal if you are both the poison and the antidote?

page thirteen
if only you could rewrite the story
but how could you?
how do you rip the pages
how do you erase the sickeningly sweet
slow stabs slicing through your spine every time a smile is sent your way
how do you mute the thudding in your brain telling you that this could never be
how do you ignore the extra echoes in your head yelling at you to get yourself together

how do you get yourself together?

page fourteen
you've been asking so many questions lately
but you know the answer to all of them

page fifteen
there's a small voice
a minuscule, malevolent voice whispering maybe
whispering maybe and perhaps and potentially
maybe you're not the only one who wants to hold on just a little longer

page sixteen
but see
it's funny how the story starts with two people and now it's just one person with an overactive imagination
illustrating a person as something more
something better

page seventeen
but you're not creative enough to keep your illusion for too long
and soon you start to see less of what you want to be there and more of what is there
skin and bones and blemishes
and human

human

page eighteen
human is ugly and human is cruel and human is wretched
but human is somewhat
beautiful
in its ugliness
and human is raw in all its dishonestly
and human is real
even if you made it out not to be

page nineteen
you will never truly now human
you will never truly know anyone or anything that isn't a figment of your imagination
but it's enough

page twenty
it starts with seeing nothing but what is there
skin and bones and blemishes
and human
and then it ends
the story ends somewhere
anywhere really
but it ends

Dear Golden Gate Bridge,

    Can you give her back to me?
Split the water in two and I will be Moises
Angry and scared,
desperate and delusional
like Dolly was about Jolene

She fell in love with your edges and your deceiving depths
And you never saw right through her and thought that maybe she just wanted you to be the sloppy second for once. Rebound to a better life.

                                         Splash!

You are a ruthless lover but I'm starting to understand the fascination with that edge of yours.

                                          Breathe in. Breathe out.

Jolene, I need to be baptized in your love
And I will assure you that I can swim and you will pretend to care.

Moises will fly to a sure fall. Let him drown. He would have never made it to Noa's arc anyways.

Let me drown.