I Want To Go Home Now. Go Home And Cook Something Warm. Eat It Under The Familiar Lights. Curl Up In

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.

idek these days. are these happy? or are these sad? ig these are the middle days... the normal days that normal people have, when they follow their schedules and do normal people things. but like, who even are these nornal people? who here does not have something hurting them at any given point in time? who here does not get days and weeks and months when they just... can't. i can't believe that exists at all. but maybe it does, who am i to judge. maybe i would like to be there someday. someday...

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?

day 7

10:40 p. m.

it's october now. don't you remember the poems? don't you remember the quotes? you can't be sad in october. it's for happiness and sunshine and smiles. but here's the longing, the missing. a thousand miles made of pain.

maybe one day the world won't hurt so much. maybe one day these words won't be a way to make sense out of all this. maybe one day.

i hope i stay for that day.

day 4

4:12 p. m.

maybe humor was always about getting rid of the pain. maybe all art has always been.

it's always when the anxiety is gone that i realise how bad it really had been. how crying everyday is not normal. how it's not supposed to hurt when you breath. yet somehow, when it returns (and it always does) , i forget again. i pretend life is supposed to hurt this much. that looking at beautiful things is supposed to make you wish you were dead. but it doesn't hurt now. so i'm writing this... as a reminder, for the next time. remember, it got better this time. it got better every single time and you were glad for that. it will get better this time too. it will get better and there'll be rains and clouds and poems and songs and stories and people to look at and be with. it will get better and you will remember how much you love to write when it's not to simply get rid of the pain. you will go to bed giddy with laughter and take care of your body even if it's a long way still to love it. you will sing along to your favorite songs and dance you will say i love you to all those you love and hear them say it back. you will see that it's not just darkness waiting for you in the future. that there's a dream you have. one which you love working for. there'll be words and smiles and memories and so much more. this feeling I'm feeling right now, i'm giving it to you through these words. this happiness i feel, i hope you remember this.

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 18

8:28 a. m.

this happiness slowly creeping in... and you. nostalgia for days long gone. days that could've been. days that should've been. anyway.

day 13

11:32 p. m.

the lost feeling after waking up from a nightmare. scared of something but not sure of what. to just sleep until it all ends. to be or not to be. to stay awake or go to sleep. to sleep. to never be.. never have been. unless in daydreams. dreams far away from now. a lighter heart forgetting these days as memories. an easier breath, exhaling out these words... no longer a part of its body. but the waiting. dear heart, the waiting. how long till i breath again?

day 16

10:40 p. m.

songs from a time forgotten. my poems in a language you'll never understand. our fingers never touch. there was a promise once. of a day meant to be spent together. a promise to never let go. maybe you gave it to someone else. maybe you always knew i was going to break it.

(and yes, i do remember another promise. to myself. to never spend any more of my words on you. i try. but maybe that's how i keep all my promises)