Day 10

So I attach myself to people who are not those who are long gone or those who were never here and I listen to bands whose members are dead and movies that no one else watched and I talk to characters from books and stories and tell of my sorrows to the words for they don’t come to me telling me to be someone I’m not expecting me to do things I’m not capable of

day 8

6:50 p. m.

remember the feeling of the autumn sun on your face. the way your old fall playlist brings only the good moments back. the way your flannels will always smell of coffee. of collecting falling harsingars in the mornings. rose pricks and paper cuts. all the dark academia vibes. remember them.

i'm so close. so fucking close to not caring. i'm so close to not giving an actual fuck about anything. anything. i could just stop. stop paying attention in class. stop doing my homework. stop studying. just stop. and no one can make me do anything if only i choose that.

i'm so close to the point where i just stop caring. about anything, everything. and it's scary. it's fucking scary. cos this isn't what i should want. i shouldn't want to stop, to give up, to leave. i'm too fucking young to think that life isn't worth it. i'm too fucking young to feel this tired. i shouldn't want to stop. i should want to live. i should want to read at a french café on a rainy friday. i should want to see the whole world from the top of the highest mountains. i should want to look at the skeletons of times gone by and people who tried to make a difference. i should want to know every single story that ever existed or ever will. i should want to wake up at one end of the world and fall asleep on another. i should want to write down all the words that are inside me. i should want to see the sun rise in rome and see it set in new york. i should want all of that. i should want to live. live a goddamned life. but all i wanna do is stop. all i wanna do is go to sleep and never wake up again. all i wanna do is stop. what do i do?

as a kid, i used to read the maps

whenever i used to be upset

i would open up any map

and simply stare at it for hours on end

absorbing the world

thinking of all the places i've never been

of all the places i'll never be to

nowadays, i read theories about the universe

how it started

how it might end

time travel and black holes

relativity of time and the songs of the universe

did you know, two black holes,

before colliding

create sounds waves in the very fabric of the universe

imagine being so sad and beautiful and terrible

the multiverse theory is still my favorite

to imagine worlds where i simply don't exist

never did, to begin with

i wonder if someone in that other universe

ever feels like they are missing someone they've never met

someone who doesn't even exist

i hope not

so maybe what i really wish to say

is that right from the start

the world has always been

my only escape from the demons inside my head

day 14

11:11 p. m.

the words escape me tonight. stranger reading this, won't you forgive me tonight? i have no words for you. but do you even listen? do you even read?

i feel like radio... except radio had someone listening to them. radio had frances and february and thousands listening to them. who do i have? does my voice even exist?

it gets difficult to breath again. everyone is so far away. and i'm afraid. afraid that even if i do find the words to ask for help somehow, they won't hear me. afraid that even if i do start screaming, they won't know it's me. everyone is so far away and a part of me tells me it's for the best but gods, do i wish someone would hold me while my heart breaks.

day 15

3:50 a. m.

but really, we do get through everything, don't we? no matter how painful, we suffer through to the other side. i'm not sure what that says about us. i don't know what i feel about it. but it happens. this unimaginable will to stay alive. to forget the suffering. i don't know what to do about it.

day 3

2:09 p. m.

oh look, we're back where we started. is this really how long grief lasts? is this really how long the pain at not being able to take away their pain lasts? or maybe this is just... an illusion. nothing more.

'this dream isn't feeling sweet

we're reeling through the midnight streets

and I've never felt more alone

it feels so scary, getting old'

tell me though, what remains when this is over. tell me it isn't just pain.

day 12

2:51 a. m.

someone, somewhere, won't you ask me how i am doing? please, won't you ask me if there is something heavy on my heart that i would like to get rid of? won't you just listen to me talk through silences and tell you what's breaking my heart? won't you please hold me tight without my having to say it? hold me and wipe away my tears and tell me it's all going to turn out fine. tell me it'll be alright so i may sleep now.

“It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.”

— Sylvia Plath