I’m hurting over your pain

Even though we’re the same

This is where we’re different

While you want your distance

I want to be close

And I suppose

If that’s the way to help

I’ll stay here by myself

Feeling like I failed you

Doing what you want me to


It gets better… and then what?

When you’re used to everything being negative or plain too much it’s a really weird experience to escape it. The dream fulfilled never feels quite as sweet as how you imagined it, does it now?

Getting better is hard.

First, it gets worse, as you realise everything that’s wrong with you, everything that’s causing it, and everything you have to change. Sometimes knowing why things fuck you up and why you display fucked up behaviour in return is worse than what’s actually wrong. At least, that’s my experience. Out of your comfort zone and uncomfortably aware of what’s still wrong you might find you feel like you can’t play your own part in the play anymore. People have expectations of you which you don’t meet anymore and you might have dropped ancient habits or hobbies. It’s terrifying and freeing to cut out the external factors.

Secondly, you make progress, you feel happier. It’s not constant, but more and easier than you ever expected at your lowest. You’ve run into things you wish you could delete from your life but you still depend on them. You confront them by playing the same old dance, but not getting as affected by it. Still, there’s this empty. You have more energy and time, where do you leave it? There is so much since you need less to do the same things and stopped doing some. Hobbies? They’re just not the same, you used them as distractions and coping mechanisms and it’s sorta tainted. Only some specific prospects in your hobbies such as the release of a new game even get you to engage anymore. So much boredom. It’s a dangerous thing when being alone in your head isn’t completely safe yet.

I haven’t gotten to thirdly or lastly yet. I was heading there when my aunt got worse and passed away. Grief’s pretty good at setting you back. I’m lucky to, through it, have found a secure future which even includes someone I love. I’m still healing, not through love like shitty romcom movies pretend, but it certainly helps to have a stable loving environment 90% of the time (compared to like 1 maybe 2% at my lowest).


I want to sleep off exhaustion that isn’t physical, waiting for wounds that don’t bleed to finally heal. Tears roll red hot down my throat, hidden by a smile that’s only the corners of my mouth pointing upwards. My hands run ice cold from the fever in my mind. I’m hungry for things I can’t eat and need something to brighten the darkness which isn’t light.

Two actors meet

I feel like I don’t know the real you. I’ve heard of things you’ve done and things you hope to do, your lack of it rather. You’re hiding something. What makes me say that? It’s all too familiar. I know what’s like to put up an act so airtight, so desirable, that you convince yourself, lose yourself even. I might be wrong about this, but I feel like you’re running from something, like you’re afraid. I wouldn’t dare look at what I’m really like, always running from myself, hiding. So tell me, who are you? What do you really feel? What’s the cause of your fear? Why do you loathe who you are so much that only in fleeting moments when we’re alone or in late night texts I see you? That’s the person I’m falling for, though I have to admit your mask is pretty charming too. Let me in, be honest. Turn off the defense system, you can’t freak me out. There’s nothing you can do that will scare me off, hardly anything I haven’t been through or understand. I’ve been trying to show you me, I don’t do that with anyone. I know we weren’t exactly close before this, but I always knew you were different, different like me. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. You were never a threat, never a puzzle to understand, I inherently trust you. It frightens me and makes me feel safe.

But please tell me if you think I’m crossing a line or if you think I’m crazy. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, I’d hate for you to do something you don’t want to just for me. There’s no need to lie about why you said no either. You don’t think we’d last till then do you? You think I won’t like you or that my feelings will pass. If I wanted a boyfriend or “some fun” as you like to call it, there are many easier ways to do it. Now, I did not choose my feelings for you, but I chose to act on them. I chose not to hide them in a dark corner of my mind until they’ve faded. I kissed back, I sought you out. I’m not being led by my feelings, I realise that you are worthy of them. I’ve had plenty cases where I was taken for granted, my feelings deemed irrelevant. But you, you care. You worry, you apologise, you initiate. I can call you any time of the day no matter the problem. You make me smile and you don’t feel as if it’s anything special. It is to me. You’re special to me and not in a special snowflake kinda way. You matter, and not just to me.

Relapse, Breakdown

It can be anything; a word, a phrase, a look, an event, even a thought can trigger it. Months of building confidence, picking up my broken pieces and catching up on things I pushed aside to save myself. Loads of work left to be unfinished, promises soon to be broken, people ignored and offended. All because of one little thing that flipped the switch, or maybe lots of little things. It just becomes too much.

Salt on my tongue, heat on my knuckles, cold in my bones, sour is my stomach and empty the silence. I know I’m crying, but I don’t feel it. I punched the wall until I bled, yet there’s no pain. It’s spring and the weather’s mild while I’m shivering from the cold. I’m healthy though my burning throat suggests otherwise. I feel numb, with my heart ripped out of my chest. Disconnected from reality and time as feelings take control. Not this again.