↬ thoughts

feeling empty, like a bottomless pit. no feeling of satisfaction and just the perpetuation of dysphoria. and when love is not a trustable option, and friends come and go, i just lay in bed. i lay in bed desperately reminding myself that the water i'm drowning in, is just my imagination. life will get better they say.....(why so negative?)..... (just be happy, is it that hard?)......(so much self pity ugh).....(is it that hard to get over an ex? c'mon it has been almost 2 years.) i feel one with the darkness outside my window, and the afternoon busking sun burns my eyes. the only light i find peaceful is the candle next to my bed, and if it casually catches my curtains it would just be an intentionally unintentional mistake. getting text reminders about the next therapy session and another text from my father asking why i am not home. when i meet new people i yearn for someone to ask me more than 'how was your day'. i am waiting to be filled even though i know inevitably i can only fill myself. i've heard it a thousand times, but when my knees get so bruised from getting up from my falls, i cant help but start to not catch a glimpse at the light at the end of the tunnel.

↬ thoughts ii

my go to playlist of slam poetry; people shouting the wrenching pain of depression i find hard to put into words myself. my family have grown used to my melancholy they have forgotten it is even a problem. when news of someone's suicide feels like death is laughing, ringing in my eardrums, coaxing me that a solution is just an overdose away, a swimming pool away, a noose away.  in this liminal space i hardly feel my existence. if this is some sick joke, now would be the right time to tell me it was just a nightmare and it is finally time for me to go home. in my own bed i sometimes feel homeless. i look at people and only see the knives they are hiding behind their backs. i want an inked