Day 6

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 3

2:09 p. m.

oh look, we're back where we started. is this really how long grief lasts? is this really how long the pain at not being able to take away their pain lasts? or maybe this is just... an illusion. nothing more.

'this dream isn't feeling sweet

we're reeling through the midnight streets

and I've never felt more alone

it feels so scary, getting old'

tell me though, what remains when this is over. tell me it isn't just pain.

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 your heart even you can't feel it. and even if it wasn't... even if it was out there for all to see... what would be so terrible about that?

home really is the strangest of all places. you only ever seem to have one as a child. older, and you wish to run away. the first place you wish to run away from, no matter how much you proclaim to love it. it is only when you do leave, when you need a home thr most, that it ceases to be home anymore. it is only when you yearn for it more than anything you have ever yearned for, that you cannot recognize it anymore. you wish for home, but home doesn't feel like home anymore. you wish for your mother's arms, but she is not the mother you grew up with. or maybe she is and you simply do not recognize her anymore. when you go back, you run away again. and again, and again, and again. running away and away and away. towards home. wherever it may be.

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.

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.

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.

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 9

9:43 p. m.

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)