Až se nám jednou cesty zkříží…

Budu ti nosit snídani do postele, probouzet tě polibkem na víčka. Budu ležet ve vychladlých pomačkaných peřinách a vdechovat tvou vůni. S nedobytnou sklenicí budu obtěžovatsousedy, aby sis mohl dát marmeládu na palačinky nebo med do čaje.

Budu ti schovávat malá překvapení pod polštář nebo do kapsy kabátu, abys na ně náhodně přicházel. Budu o tobě psát básně a číst ti je před spaním.

 V létě si budeme dělat pikniky v parku, ležet v trávě a číst naše oblíbené knížky nebo sedět na terase s odpoledním šálkem kávy. Budeme spát venku a pozorovat noční oblohu. Budeme tvořit, kreslit, psát, zpívat a hrát a inspirovat se navzájem. Budeme ležet na zemi, poslouchat gramofon a nevnímat okolí. Budu ti sedat na klín a šeptat do ucha milá slova. Budu si s tebou proplétat ruce při jízdě vlakem, v obchodě i na ulici. Budu tě líbat doma pod peřinou i venku na náměstí. Budu tě hladit na zádech a schovávat ti ruce pod tričko.

 Zahřívat ti studená chodidla a masírovat nohy. Budeme se koupat ve vaně se spoustou pěny, tajně se za tebou budu vkrádat do koupelny a psát ti vzkazy na zamlžené zrcadlo. Budu tě opatrovat a starat se o tebe, když budeš nemocný. Budu tě milovat, něžně i vášnivě. Budu se s tebou smát a slíbávat ti slzy, když budeš smutný.

V zimě se budeme válet ve sněhu a večer pod teplou dekou sledovat filmy s hrnkem horké čokolády. Budeme spolu opravovat porouchané, vyměňovat pojistky a žárovky. Budu ti společníkem hovorným i mlčenlivým.

 Budu s tebou, i když budu zrovna fyzicky pryč. Budu ti oporou a pochopením. Budu ti vším a ty budeš vším mně.

Můžu věřit, že tam na mě někde čekáš, milý (ne)známá?

JÁ.

JÁ
B: Napiš mi kdo jsi a popiš se mi co nejupřímněji.
Já: Ok.

Kdo jsem? Jsem vězeň ve vlastním těle, v hlavě. A nemyslím to tak, jak to má většina, pohlavím jsem si zcela jistá. Žiju, nebo spíše přežívám. V hlavě mám spousty plánů, nápadů, ale už je nedokážu zrealizovat, teda, některé ano, ty ale nezávisí na ničem dalším, nebo jsou to spíš věci spontánní.  Neřekla bych, že jsem líná, ani pohodlná, ale mám v sobě blok, který mi brání v tom, dělat potřebné věci, jako je třeba učení, či zdokonalování se ve věcech, které mě baví a které dělám ráda. Tuhle vlastnost má podle mě dost lidí, v dnešní době se to nazývá PROKRASTINACE. Jsem tak trochu zvláštní člověk, nemám lidi ráda, ale nedokážu bez nich být, dokonce bych dokázala říct, že věc, která mě nejvíce děsí je právě samota, ale pokud bych si měla vybrat, jestli strávím zbytek života s někým, kdo umí jen lhát a přetvařovat se nebo být po zbytek svého života sama, vyberu si tu druhou možnost. Z mé největší obavy vyplývá také můj smysl života a tím je pro mě LÁSKA. Nedokážu si představit, že bych život prožila bez lásky. S tímto je spojena má další vlastnost a tou je, že se dokážu hodně rychle zamilovat, jakmile ke mně začne být někdo až moc milý, začínám se k němu nějakým způsobem vázat a to vážně není dobrá vlastnost. Taky jsem hodně žárlivá a nemusí se to nutně týkat žárlivosti ve vztahu, žárlím i na kamarády či kamarádky, hodně věcí si beru osobně, i když tak nejsou třeba myšlené, často ve věcech hledám hlubší význam. Jsem citlivá, možná až příliš, všímám si maličkostí, které spoustu lidí přehlíží. Ač zastávám názor, že by všichni měli být upřímní a neměli by se přetvařovat, v jistých situacích to jinak nejde. Nepříjemné věci dusím v sobě. Při smutných příležitostech v reálném životě nedokážu brečet u filmu je to ovšem naopak. Jsem starostlivá. A mám ve zvyku dělat první poslední pro lidi, kteří si to nezaslouží a ti toho pak jednoduše zneužívají. Co se týče mého vzhledu, nemůžu říct, že bych byla spokojená, mé sebevědomí mi to nedovolí. Říká se, že nejprve musí být člověk spokojený sám se sebou, aby s ním mohl být spokojený někdo druhý. Myslím, že tohle „pravidlo“ není až tak úplně přesné. Protože vím, že ať už se mnou jednou skončí kdokoliv, bude mít to co nikdo jiný na světě. Nevím, jestli se dá úplně přesně popsat ten pocit, ale asi bych řekla, že bych tomu druhému dala celou svoji duši, jen aby měl vše, po čem touží.

Jednou mi někdo řekl, že jsem jako skleníková kytička. Když vyjdu ven, nedopadne to dobře. (tento fakt jsem si přidala pro vysvětlení sama) A proto pod skleněnými tabulkami čekám na svého zahradníka.

Když se tak zamyslím, mohla bych se popsat vlastně ještě jednodušeji, jsem jako malý princ a jeho růže.

Please tell him...

'I love someone who no longer exists. I realize he might feel the same way. You can still find glimpse of him if you look hard enough. The scars on his knuckles and old polaroids. He’s drinking coffee til his body shakes and creating temporary masterpieces out of chalk. Old school rap in his head phones, he doesn’t care. Now appears a boy who makes himself into someone bigger with new shoes but he never walks anymore. Silly of me to mistake you for him it’s just… you have the same eyes. The ones who knew me so well. If you find him in your mirror please tell him I miss him.'

a poem about us.

So here is another poem that will end up crumpled at the bottom of my stomach. Filled with things I want to tell you just…

Not like this. I’m sick of writing in between the lines, you don’t have to seek it out but you do. I have to write it down cause it’s the only way I know how to move forwards.
If you wanted to know how I feel why not find your way to my new doorstep where I sleep alone now. I slept alone before but it never felt like I did cause I woke up with you.

I know when you read my words it probably makes your mouth taste bitter like drinking black coffee straight from the pot. I know when you take it all in you probably think I’m crazy cause you know I’m a little on edge always. You know this cause you were the one I called when I wanted to step in front of the train tracks and call it the end of my shift. I know cause you told me never to leave because you couldn’t bare to exist in this space without me and now you exist without me but you are all I think about and I can’t find a space to put it.

How can I put it places when it ends up on billboard projected at you like I’m trying to hurt you. I don’t wanna hurt you the way others have hurt me, the way it felt when I couldn’t speak with you for weeks but it was more like forever at least for me.

When I see a postcards and cry in the shower for 30 minutes saying stupid shit about us being birds and skyscrapers, how we’ve changed but we’re still stupid kids trying our bests. Fighters. You never saw me as weak just someone who was always trying their best to be better. We were always trying out best to be better.

I keep a polaroid of us in my wallet I only took it out for two weeks but it went right back to where it belongs. I know you believe in God and I believe in the universe but with you it’s not about fate, or destiny, or power. It’s just a bottom bunk or a cup of coffee or me telling you I love you like this instead of the way I want to because you deserve the label of BEST friend because you’re the best.

I texted you tonight to tell you I was the one who sent you roses on your birthday because I think you still love roses. Because regardless of your brand on sneakers or the way your hair falls I love the person you are in a way that isn’t nude photographs or a waiting game. Maybe not in a relationship way but in a way that means I have to keep writing poetry so you know way.

in which I use the keyboard instead of the weapon.

This a poem about survival. This is for all the half written suicide notes, the ones in my journals, the ones in my notes, the ones I wrote in my head. 

This is for all the cars I didn’t throw myself in front of. For the train tracks I didn’t stand on. All the ledges I didn’t jump off of. For those months when I couldn’t cry, so I just had to lie there on the floor and wish for the drought to end. This is for those few nights I’ve been held by another but mostly for the nights where I held myself.

 For when I stopped my own head from shaking. I stopped my own chest from heaving. My own lungs from hyperventilating. My own hands from strangling my neck. For all the times I didn’t say anything because I think I’ve had my words taken from me from too many people who tell me that I talk too much. That I’m too loud. That I am too needy. That I am too clingy. That I am too human. So I killed the human and became so empty I forgot how to do the most human things. 

Like eat and move and breathe and love. Love myself. This is for running away. For all those times I wanted to keep going until my body gave out. For running away from the four walls and bedroom ceiling. For all the people who tried and all the people who didn’t. For all the days I didn’t want to get up and go out. For the last day of my job when I almost did it. For the first night of summer camp when I almost did it. For the nights when I almost did it. But I didn’t. For the anxiety attacks that I started having again. For the dissociation that makes me doubt if I’m even really here. 

For all the times I didn’t want to be here. For the scars that have faded. For the relapses I didn’t want to go through. For the times I wanted to rip my skin, run myself through, and throw myself into walls. For the people who hurt me. For the people who abused me. For all the time I didn’t know I had been abused because no one tells you that it isn’t always bruising. It isn’t always visible. For all those times I had to save myself. For the days when someone else had to help. For when I said “I want to kill myself.” outloud for the first time and burst into tears.

For when I got too high and thought my face was melting off. For all the apologies I didn’t have to make. For all the apologies I wasted. For all the apologies that meant other things. For the healing. For the hoping. For the wishing. For the loving. For the nights I don’t wake up alone. For the people who love me. For the coffee in the morning. For the sunrise. When the drought ended and I could cry again. I could feel again. For the days I can’t feel but know I can and I will again. 

This is a poem about recovery.

pieces.

I’m trying to unlearn things they taught me. How the world tells us we need to figure out who we are but when you go through life there will be times you must uproot yourself from the stability you once knew. Sometimes someone does it for you and you get no say. Because you don’t just create yourself once, sometimes you have to go back to the drawing board and try to reconstruct all your edges into something new to survive. So I’m trying to reconfigure myself into someone I want to be but the old me’s keep pulling up old drafts or chapters I’ve tried to leave behind. 

How I can’t trust and when I do you’ll probably have to promise a million times even if you already told me. There is a misconnection between my ears and my common sense, someone stole it a long time ago and I looked as hard as I could but couldn’t find it. Please don’t get mad sometimes it’s hard to find the words. They taught me mine did not belong to me. They taught me words are dangerous and if you use the wrong ones everything will fall apart.

 So I learned which ones were safe to use like I’m sorry or I don’t know or I don’t care. Worst case scenario is the only one my eyes can see someone took a light and flashed it one too many times so I’ve lost sight of what it feels like to not panic when something is amiss. 

All these people sunk their fingers into my brain and tried to pull out the parts they liked so now I feel hollow. Now I feel static. Now I am trying to heal. I’m trying to find all these puzzle pieces people took and lost and my box is so empty. I don’t know where they went but I know that maybe I’ll never fully find them but I will try to make do with what I have. Filling the gaps with new found feelings and memories and people. I’m trying. I promise.

It gets easier every day to love my own being the way it deserves

The best day of my life was when I realized I wanted to love myself.  Because I will always be there even when others are not. I cannot leave myself. I cannot abandon my own structure or being for it is my vessel. It is never a waste of time or energy. I will never regret all the days I spent and continue to spend learning to love every inch of myself. 

When I crawl into bed at night I will always be there. Lovers, friends, people may come and go but I will always be there to hold myself while I cry. To bandage up the wounds. To scrub myself clean. To brush my own hair. To look in the mirror and tell myself I did my best and I do my best every day. ¨

When I realized if no one else can be there I can be there.  If you feel you deserve better than it’s time to be the better you deserve. So when your heartbreaks you know that you are still full and worthy of all of your own love. You are worthy of your own love.

I’m a fucking rainbow.

When someone breaks your heart, your perception of them shatters along with it. 
They become like a broken mirror. The person staring back at you once familiar becomes distorted. All the light breaks through the cracks and reveals what was there, even if you don’t want to see it. Even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. It’s all out in the open.

Their faces becomes a kaleidoscope. Shifting every second, sometimes as the beautiful being they once were. Their eyes that welcoming blue like the sky. Their smile so warm. Their laughter a gentle melody. You view them in that rose tinted way, so breathtaking. In shades of sunny yellow. Of pink flushing cheeks and noses. Of purple evenings tangled in each other. Of passionate red with heavy breathing and soft angles. Of vibrant blues beckoning you closer and closer in. All these shades brighter than the next. Full of joy. Full of muse. 

Then moments later it shifts and the darkness seeps through. So the yellow is too blaring, hurting your eyes. Desperate red, with puffy eyes, trembling lips, and shaky breath. Begging. Pleading. Don’t Leave Me. Blue nights when the shadows settle in and their words echo in the walls. All shades of navy, indigo, royal. Each deeper and darker then the next. Green with envy, when she pulls you in and I let go. Her fingers in your hair. Her fingers on your skin. Her green eyes swallowing up your blue.

It all fades to one shade of gray. So empty. So haunting. So unsure. All of the colors in you washing away until all that’s left is memories.

Now I see you and all I see is gray. Fleeting reds, blues, greens, and sometimes yellow if I catch an old picture of you smiling. You lost all your brightness. You lost yourself.

I however am glowing in shades of emerald, violet, scarlet, gold, silver, and so much more. Painting the world with everything I’ve felt. Sometimes about you but never for you. Only for myself.

A letter to the girl I used to be.

Beautiful girl. You beautiful girl. I know it’s hard for you to see yourself that way. Beautiful isn’t a word that brushes your ears often but god I am so sorry because you deserved to hear that word every god damn day of your life. 

I apologize because as I grew, you shrank. You wanted a big city. You wanted bright lights. You wanted red lips. You wanted spotlights flooding every inch of your untouched skin. Warmth. You had a different name. A different face. A different life than mine. But you were scared. I still look in the mirror some days and I can see a glimmer of a scared little girl. Bawled fists holding paperclips and mouth full of jumbled letters. Confused. 

I am sorry because I do not want all the things you wanted. I am sorry because somedays I feel like this vessel does not reflect me but reflect you. I am sorry because I have done things to this body that you would be ashamed of. I am sorry because most days I feel like I’m a visitor in this skin. It belonged to you first. I knocked down your sturdy foundation so I could be here and most days now I don’t want to be here. 

I want a big mountain. I want coffee in the morning. I want bare faced. bare boned. I have scuffed skin. I have bruised knees. I have an ice cold excuse of a heart in my chest. I want to fade into my bedrooms walls. I do not want to stand out anymore. You did. You lived for that. I don’t. 

You did not have to worry about stepping outside into a world that wasn’t built for you. You don’t try to wash yourself clean three times a day trying to remove all the dust and grime that has settled onto you. You were a light. You had wings. Big beautiful wings that made everyone stop and stare. You were the sun. The god damn sun. 

I’m sorry because in order to try to create myself I have killed most of who you are. I don’t speak your name. Half of the people who know me never knew you. Never knew what you went through and everyone you knew are all ghosts in my head reminding me this body wasn’t mine. 

There are days I think you try to come back but you are long gone. Maybe that’s why existing feels so wrong. When you were born I was nothing but a spark buried deep down inside and now you are a fading flicker of a flame inside of me. You were full and I am hollow. I have only existed such a short time and I still haven’t grown into myself yet. 

I am sorry that I took away all you wanted. I’m sorry because you were happy. I’m sorry because I should be happy but I’m not. I’m sorry because if you saw me now you wouldn’t recognize me. I used to be ashamed of you and now I realize trying to forget about you, trying to pretend you never existed doesn’t mean you never did. Just because everyone else never knew you doesn’t mean I wasn’t you. It doesn’t mean you weren’t important. You were so important beautiful girl. 

Beautiful girl. All that remains of you. Somedays I need you to remind me that I belong. Teach me how to be the sun again. I’ve been so cloudy recently. 

thoughts - (in czech language)

• Nejsou věci, které bych neměla vědět. Jsou jen věci, které vím a věci které nevím nejsou, dokud je nebudu vědět. Prodlévá jen povědomí o jejich existenci protože lhostejnost je horší než nevědomost a nevědomost je matkou hlouposti. Život žiji okamžikem, ale i zítřky mám na paměti a cíle budoucích let nacházejí domov na papíře. Jsem spjatá s přírodou, hledám rovnováhu. Štěstí je pocit, smutek je pocit, zloba je pocit, všechno jsou to emoce a emoce jsou způsob komunikace mého těla s mou myslí. Nemám se nijak, prostě se mám. Starám se, už nelžu, nelžeme totiž ostatním když neříkáme pravdu, lžeme hlavně sobě a jsme to my, kdo si naši lež nosí sebou. Neschovávám se před sebou, mé chyby jsou to, co by mi mělo zůstávat na očích a skrz cestu jejich poznání k rovnováze zjišťuji kým jsem, stávám se kým budu a kým budu se stále mění tím, kým jsem. Neusiluji o věci, které nemají skutečnou hodnotu. Peníze nejsou podstatou mého života ani způsobem jeho prožití.
• 
  Ostatní měřím podle čistoty jejich duše, ne podle hodnoty jejich majetku, nebo zvučnosti jejich jména. Věci za ně nemluví, slova povídají skrze ně a činy vypravují o tom, kým jsou. Nečistí - a považuji za urážku přirovnávat je k mravencům. Nezištní - a není nic, čím bych se jim nesnažila splácet dluh světa a světu jejich. Nejvíce toho neříkám slovy, jednoznačnost výrazů mluví proti mému cítění, že všechno je vším a nic není jen jedním. Mé oči vidí svět jinak, je to má perspektiva, která dává život mému způsobu uvažování a můj způsob uvažování není správný ani špatný, je jen jiný, než tvůj a tvůj není správný ani špatný, je jen jiný než můj. Sním, ne o velkých nýbrž o prostých věcech, kterých dosáhnu skrze velké věci zanechávajíc je těm, kteří o ně stojí. Definicí mého klidu a opravdového žití je prostá práce , prosté jídlo a čistá voda šlechtící tělo. Šum moře, větru v korunách stromů, surf, knihovna, krb a noční stráž milionu hvězd šlechtící duši a mysl. 
• 
  "It is the experiences, the memories, the great triumphant joy of living to the fullest extent in which real meaning is found.Ӭ
• 
   Nerozumím lidem, mám rozpačité pocity z toho, jaký způsob uvažování považují za správný a kterým věcem přisuzují důležitost. Obdivuji jejich mistrovské umění slepoty vůči věcem, které leží přímo před nimi a stejná skutečnost je součástí chátrajícího statutu mého úsudku o jejich charakteru. Obecném, kolektivním. O individualitě hlouposti se totiž dá uvažovat za skutečnosti, že jen někdo je hlupákem a většina má zdravý rozum. Jsem ale jen sama sebou a hranice mých pravomocí určování pravdy sahá jen tak daleko, jak daleko sahá mé vlastní uvažování a tak daleko, jak daleko se rozpíná má vlastní osoba. Žít a nechat žít. 
• 
  
  • Měním se každý den, ještě nejsem hotová. Budu se měnit každy den, nikdy nebudu hotová. Nemám ego, ovlivňuje racionalitu mých rozhodnutí. Píši, protože jsem chtěla udělat něco velkého. Chtěla jsem odhalit kousky podstaty mého charakteru a způsobu uvažování někde, kde by si o nich mohl přečíst každý. Dát na odiv odhalenější část sebe. Nevypsala jsem vše, nevypsala jsem dokonce ani tolik, aby to bylo málo. Nedokázala jsem ani napsat všechno, co jsem napsat chtěla a souvisle jsem nedokázala uvažovat nad tím, co všechno je to, co bych chtěla napsat. Prostě jsem psala, o tom, co mi přišlo na mysl a to co je napsáno, když nic jiného, je to, kým jsem. Ne zítra, nebyla jsem jí ani včera, ale dnes ji jsem.

how to deal with social anxiety: tips and advice

1. QUESTION YOUR FEARS: anxiety comes from fear. No matter what type of anxiety you experience (social, generalized, etc) your body and mind react in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable; Chest pains, shaking, heart palpitations, tension, overthinking and more; All of these symptoms come because you’re in a state of fear. But why? Question yourself, questions those fears, because we can’t come up with a solution if we can’t address the cause. 
2. Why do you fear a situation/person/group of people? Are you afraid they are going to mock you? Laugh at you? Why are you afraid? Have you experienced those situations before? Most of the time, people who suffer from social anxiety have been bullied. The reason you are probably feeling so nervous around people is because you’re afraid they will treat you horrible again. The fear you’re experiencing has a cause & you need to address it to heal. One way to do this is by journalizing.
3. 
   
4. MAKE PEACE WITH YOUR PAST: If you questioned yourself and you came to the conclusion that the reason why you’re social anxious is because you have experienced a traumatic event in the past, then acknowledge that it was not your fault. People were mean to you, but it wasn’t because of you… which brings me to the next tip. 
5. 
   
6. ARE YOU PEOPLE-PLEASING?: Sometimes we think we have to act perfectly. We think we have to look perfect and be perfection just to please others & that’s the biggest lie. You do not need to please people. Repeat that over and over again. It is not your work to please, either with your face or personality. And remember that you can make mistakes, it is normal. You do not need to impress.
7. 
   
8. UNDERSTAND THAT PEOPLE PROJECT THEIR INSECURITIES ON OTHERS: When people are insecure they are most likely to disrespect. People are always projecting their reality into you. When someone insults you or mocks you it is not because of you, it is because of their own state of mind. I recommend you to read The four agreements by Miguel Ruiz, he explains this perfectly. 
9. 
   
10. PRACTICE SELF LOVE: i could talk about self-love forever. It is extremely important when you’re healing.
11. 
    
12. ASK YOURSELF: HOW AM I TALKING TO MYSELF? in a kind way? Am i making myself more anxious by overthinking? Are my thoughts being my ally and friends or not? Am i treating myself with love? Am i watching and reading what makes me feel good? Or the things i’m watching are making me feel anxious or sad? Take notes and start making changes.
13. 
    
14. CREATE NEW HABITS: meditation and yoga are habits that will help you to feel calmer and relaxed. Before going into a social situation that’s making you feel stressed, meditate for at least 20 mins or/and practice yoga. 
15. 
    
16. IT’S A PROCESS, BE GENTLE: know that the fear you’re experiencing is just fear, which doesn’t mean it is real. We tend to overthink a lot and we create fake scenarios in our head. Most of the time those fake scenarios are extremely negative and you don’t need them. Know that you will heal, but it will be a process, so be patient and kind to yourself. 
17. 
    

Much love & remember it’s ok to feel the way you’re feeling, know that the anxious feeling will pass and you will heal...

how do we heal the feminine energy?

Until we, women, do not realize our worth, we won’t be able to be free. It isn’t until we realize everything, including love, lies inside, we won’t realize how beautiful and powerful we are. We are already whole. For men to belittle us, they first had to feel threatened and intimidated. 

First we heal within and then we spread it. Emotions can’t be healed if we keep ignoring them. Pain cannot be transmuted if we keep hiding it. What is hidden always resurfaces. What is pushed to the side doesn’t stop existing. 

The reason why keep looking for so much validation outside of ourselves, is because we have been ignoring our own needs for ages. They have told us that self-love is narcissistic and that’s the biggest lie. Self love is necessary to heal. Self love is a process. We need to stop ignoring our emotions and shaming ourselves. 

Blaming men, as much as we want to do so sometimes, won’t break this cycle either. It isn’t until we realize who we really are. It isn’t until we realize they have been lying to us all these ages. The femenine is not weak. A balance of the femenine and masculine is necessary. 

They tell us we need to change, either our personality, face, or body, but when we realize those are lies, we are free. Let’s stop begging them to love us and let’s start we ourselves. We realize our power. The femenine is not weak, never has been. 

♥ 

in my head.

“Why do you write sad things?” is one of the hardest questions I’ve always been asked.

I’m just trying, you know? Day by day, second by second, I’m trying to keep myself together.

How could I answer that? How could I tell you that all I have is sadness, and all I can share to the world is sadness? How could I tell you that every time I get a little glimpse of happiness, I always just save it for myself, keeping it close to my heart, memorizing every details and feelings, and not writing it down because writing it down feels a lot like giving it away, like I am letting that little happiness go. How could I tell you that I write sad things to purge it out from my system? That it is impossible to write sad things without sadness consuming you to the core to the point that all you can do is to bleed it out on the paper. How could I tell you that? That I write sad things to let it out, hoping that one day it would never come back, that maybe one day, I will finally succeed in writing all my sadness away.

Do you know that feeling when you just want to hide under the blankets and pillows and sleep deeply and never ever woke up? Can someone wake me up when my heart stops breaking into pieces? Can I just sleep forever and concoct my own dreams and live happily ever after? Can someone wake me up when the world rights itself and everything is already blissfully happy? Can someone, just anyone please put me to sleep? I just want to sleep forever, heart beating, mind wandering, soul at peace. And no, I don’t want to die. See? There’s that tiny hairline difference.I wake up every morning not knowing what the day will bring. That seems like a dumb statement since no one can predict the future, but I am meaning it in a way that I don’t know what you will do today. Will today finally be the day that you look at me. The day that you finally realize how much you hurt me. The day that you realize that all the things I told you I didn’t want to happen to us, happened. Or will today be the day that I finally completely let you go. The day that I decide to let myself quit thinking about you. The day that I find someone to replace you. While I am unsure of what the future will bring for us. I do know that you are doing your thing and I’m doing mine, and I am happy. Or as happy as I can be.

Today I walked through the falling snow down the old cobblestone path. It was cold. It was bitter. And I wished nothing more than for you to be there. I knew you never would be. Because I know you’d be at home watching the same snow fall and wondering the same words as I; “why won’t anyone just love me?”

„I was an open wound bleeding on everything, my life is so fucked up, that it isn’t normal for me to go with a day without feeling any kind of pain.“ 

Why can’t the voices in my head say something nice, like a bird set free…