I stopped losing my hair and I started waking up again
I returned to a mundane routine
In a similar place with similar people
I found reprieve in the love that was given to me daily
And I stopped feeling sorry for myself
I started pouring my soul into my career
Because people need me
People count on me
I have a dog now and I pay all my bills
I smile at the sun and breathe in the air that is so
Graciously given to me everyday
I clean up when there is a mess and I check in on my father
I make sure my appearance is presentable and I take care of my body
I love my friends and I keep up with phone calls
I thank when there is thankfulness to be given and I am humble
When achievements are made
I hold on to memories and I cherish the good ones
I bask in nostalgia and I stare at the sunset
I look up at the birds and I appreciate their songs
I thank them for waking me up and silencing when I am sleeping

I take care of myself and I -

Cry when I am alone
I try to keep up when I am behind I-
Struggle to find my purpose, and I actually don’t really sleep
I return to my mundane routine because
People need me?
And in the back of my mind I know that I am easily replaced
My career is advancing in a way to attempt to succeed
In a world that is so disappointed in less than ordinary
I clean up when my mind is so distressed from the weeks of mess that
I so solemnly swore would never appear again when I was in crisis
I’m presentable but it was from the night before
I “bare minimumed” the expectation
Which surprises me when it is so deceiving to others
I have three maybe four good friends that check in
I give what others would expect
I pay when I can, and I keep my workouts at a point where I don’t choke on my own sadness, maybe even selfishness
Nostalgia is interpreted as pain these days
I self medicate to wake up for others
And call it a day.

I hold onto to memories that haunt me
The birds make me jealous
And sunsets only remind me that a new day will start.

And I am tired.

do not let the healer know they have already died

they cannot afford to recognize that human suffering - let that be physical or not -
is not theirs to fix, just to cradle

healers push their own suffering down
to make room for others’
until there is no room left for their own
a twisted safe haven

do not let the healer know that they died long ago

they are already tired of death
they try to cheat it everday
let them be foolish so they may save themselves when others suffering can no longer be cradled by their own soul
let them die with a million others
so they may carry the healer home.

have nothing on me
as I watch with blissful anger
at how beautiful it used to seem
if life speaks tragedy
I’ll scream at the top of my lungs
to drown out the uselessness
of the moon and the sun
they mock me so violently
but still take my breath away
they yell and they whisper
to go on another day
I hate you and I love you
moon and sun in between
they will always be more beautiful
and to them I will always be seen

rays steady shine
& radiate into my bedroom
earlier than usual this season
they say the warm season is one
of new life, nourishment, flourishing
but summer is even more sad

the summer reminds me of the feelings
that will not change even with the seasons
at least the winter mirrored the way
i feel inside
the irony is uncanny
i say i hate winter
but im beginning to think it is my favorite season
because i relate to winter

i dont relate to sunshine

i wish i could live in your world of
"what life was like before you"

because now i feel as if i will become
your

"life before you"

in the most
utterly non-nostalgic and guilty ways
and i don't want you to carry what i carry

i often fail to conceptualize and compartmentalize the past
it so willingly invades my present and makes a reality here