Day 11

there's no evidence that growth is painful.

then how do you explain the ache in my chest. how do you explain this constant urge to carve out my heart and leave it in a dark room, away from all eyes, in a place it can't be touched.

“It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.”

— Sylvia Plath

nobody ever tells you how painful growing up really is. or maybe they do. maybe that's all they ever tell you, but you never listen.

i've started hoarding my memories. it feels like it's all going to come to an end faster than it should - and yet, every day feels unbearable.

i would like to leave. i would like to spend forever in my mother's arms. i would like time to stop here. i would like to be at the end of this waiting. all that i want is a contradiction of itself.

i would like the end to be final.

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 19

9:58 p. m.

this ends for us today, stranger. for i loved you, but i hated this too.

you came back today. you asked if i forgot to laugh while you were away. maybe i did. but i won't tell you. you asked how long it's been since you left and i pretended i hadn't been counting each day, writing out all these days to make their passing a little more bearable. but you're here now. it's going to be okay.

to the stranger reading this, i'm glad you were here. glad i wasn't alone. but here is where we part. for now.

goodbye

it gets difficult to breath again. everyone is so far away. and i'm afraid. afraid that even if i do find the words to ask for help somehow, they won't hear me. afraid that even if i do start screaming, they won't know it's me. everyone is so far away and a part of me tells me it's for the best but gods, do i wish someone would hold me while my heart breaks.

Your eyes are so lively that they dance like humans underneath the starry sky.

- does this even make sense (via sunhsetful)

Not everything beautiful needs to make sense

day 9

9:43 p. m.

day 1

8:44 a. m.

for all they say about death, about pain, time seems to move relatively fast when you're not paying attention to it. the last conversations, the last pictures... what to do with them now? now, when this pain doesn't even make sense.

reminder to self: playing lorde on repeat only makes you cry in your coffee and crying gives you a headache. don't do that. also next time, try more than 10 alarms in a row. that might help.