So Many Homes, So Many Goodbyes. Where Do I Stay. Where Do I Leave. I Leave And I Long. I Run Away Until

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

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?

of promises

and how i break them

there was my mother

i promised to never let her cry

the first one i broke

there were my friends

ones i promised to stay with forever

i broke them anyway

there were my words

all the 'iloveyou's and 'imissyou's and 'i'mtrying's

i promised to say them

only when i meant them

i broke those too

there were my tears

i promised to shed them only on those

who deserved them

well, when have i ever kept my promises?

then there was you

asking me to promise

and i'm gonna break this too

i promise anyway

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.

day 9

9:43 p. m.

i'm so close. so fucking close to not caring. i'm so close to not giving an actual fuck about anything. anything. i could just stop. stop paying attention in class. stop doing my homework. stop studying. just stop. and no one can make me do anything if only i choose that.

i'm so close to the point where i just stop caring. about anything, everything. and it's scary. it's fucking scary. cos this isn't what i should want. i shouldn't want to stop, to give up, to leave. i'm too fucking young to think that life isn't worth it. i'm too fucking young to feel this tired. i shouldn't want to stop. i should want to live. i should want to read at a french café on a rainy friday. i should want to see the whole world from the top of the highest mountains. i should want to look at the skeletons of times gone by and people who tried to make a difference. i should want to know every single story that ever existed or ever will. i should want to wake up at one end of the world and fall asleep on another. i should want to write down all the words that are inside me. i should want to see the sun rise in rome and see it set in new york. i should want all of that. i should want to live. live a goddamned life. but all i wanna do is stop. all i wanna do is go to sleep and never wake up again. all i wanna do is stop. what do i do?

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.

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.

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.

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.