I spent so long staring at the clouds,
I forgot the sun existed.

I used to be academic
people would call me bright
smart was always the first description of me,
it came before everything
so I was always on tope of my work
with high grades
even though I was naturally average

I would pride myself in this
and others would too,
I was always happy
knowing I'd made my parents proud

now the new year hasn't even started
I still have two days left of summer,
somehow I'm already behind,
questioning all my subjects,
feeling hopeless and alone

I used to scrawl my words on paper
writing twisting lines until my hand ached,
turning grey from the pencil lead

I liked how the scribbles showed my work
erasing and reforming
until I thought I'd found the correct words

Now I write onto my phone,
tapping buttons on my notes app,
deleting my mistakes with ease

my beds a monster
with layers of warmth
heat emanating from within,
it's steady breathe
lungs rising and falling
rocks me too sleep,
it listens carefully with it's round ears
absorbing my tears and worries
to store deep within

sometimes my bed gets angry,
it's jaw opening wide beneath me
threatening to swallow me whole,
refusing to relinquish it's hold
as my screams are muffled in it's pillows

I remember seeing the therapist,
she always had an optimistic smile
painted onto her face,
her hair was grey in a way that shone
like a hopeful beacon,
her eyes sparkling with silver
like a medal I had yet to achieve

but as we talked I saw her grin flicker
into a disappointed frown,
her short strands of hair
grew frazzled and confused,
worst of all her eyes changed

I've never felt smaller then I did then,
under her pitiful gaze.

I cry at inconveniences,
ones that wouldn't impact others
yet leave my inconsolable.

Id like to say I'm proud
of my ability to feel everything so deeply.
Unfortunately I dislike it the most
as I often get written off as hysteric,
my options rarely get heard

I try to comfort myself, often failing
until I came to a grave realisation.
Maybe I'm not too emotional,
the worlds just been dulled

So strangers starving no longer feels big,
So we don't cry for people who die
if we've never met them.

Maybe I'm not even emotional enough
because every day I still get out of bed with a smile
whilst someone else looses their most beloved.

Maybe I'm a terrible person
for carrying on when they can't.

I don't believe I'm life after death
not any kind,
not ghosts or gouls,
not spirits and soals.

Anyhow I like to imagine your here
sleeping peacefully on your chair,
I talk to you as if you were
when I bump into you and apologise,
when I wake you up and say
'go back to sleep my little baby cat'

I don't believe in live after death
not any kind but still I pretend
that your here with me as I talk to the air,
A sliver of my heart believes it to be true,
I let it think that.