I Know It Feels Like Your Pain Is Out There In The World For All To See But It's Not. It's So Deep Inside

a summer with no griefs. that's all i'm gonna ask for this time.

last month was so hard, so fucking difficult. but now it's over. and i genuinely can't believe i've made it this far. i can't believe i survived through all of this one poem a time. i can't believe it was just the thought of this poem that had to be written at the end of each day that kept me going on so many of these days. that it was these words that kept me alive.

'i've hated the words and i've loved them. and i hope that i have done them right' (the book thief)

i haven't been able to let anyone read all of them. they're too sad. maybe i will, one day. i know i need to. it's only for so long that you can scream on paper, that you can bleed through words. someday, you have to show someone the cracks in the walls so that they can come in. i hope i have the strength to do that. i hope it's not too late when i do that. i think, the most important thing i've learnt this month is that, you have to hope, no matter what. because that is the only thing that keeps you alive when all the light is sucked out of your life and the world feels like it's run out of oxygen. you have to hope.

'sometimes the saddest thing is to hope. sometimes, the only hope is the constant sadness' (yashodhaan burange)

i want to go home now. go home and cook something warm. eat it under the familiar lights. curl up in my bed and read all day, all night. listen to my mother's voice as she sings far away, but close enough.

home is not the same now. but it also never felt the way i remember it now.

day 9

9:43 p. m.

day 17

11:11 p. m.

i can almost feel it coming... but not now. not yet. i can't... talk about it. i won't.

but sending out these words feels good. keeping them in between the pages suffocates them. but there's something cathartic about sending them out into the world and knowing they're gonna be invisible. i just hope it's enough.

my best friend from ages ago texted me today. said it was great to think of me. now we're both 20. how did childhood pass so quickly? once, we laughed together and cried together. once, life was simply passing chits in class and holding hands during recess. now, there is too much to feel. talking to you, most of it is good. i hope we keep remembering each other. i hope we keep reminding each other. i hope, when life turns bitter, our memories can be that one last, sweet thing to hold onto.

and i'd really, really like to believe that there's someone out there reading all this. reading this and rooting for me to make it through this. because if not, then what am i even doing here?

i would like to live a small life with a small love. which is not to say it will be less. it will be all that we need. nothing too big for the world to see, just ours. no grand promises of forever. but holding you through the night will be enough.

day 2

9:19 a. m.

one of these days, you're gonna get used to being the last to walk up those stairs at night and the first to walk down them in the morning. that weird morning haze won't look so unfamiliar to your eyes. that first buzz of electricity won't sound so ominous. you won't need to blast lorde at full volume to drown out the silence. but not today. not so soon.

maybe being strong is all about pretending. i can't think of it otherwise. how else do they hold each other up? how else do i look you in the eye and tell you it'll be alright?

reminder to self: just accept that alarms aren't for you. and maybe... just maybe, crying to lorde isn't such a bad idea.

everything feels like it happened a long time ago. like it wasn't just yesterday that you held my hand. like the room doesn't still smell of you. like my smile has been here too long. like it's gone stale. like i'm not really here anymore. like someone's living this life and i'm just watching from a distance. like this life isn't even mine anymore. like i 've turned into a shadow and nobody knows i'm here anymore.

and if you ask me, i can't tell you what would be so bad about that. if you ask me, i'd rather you forget me than not.