I love this man.

 I love this man.

As I watch you tell me stories, you move your face and hands almost in slow motion and the reflection of this warm light on your skin turns you into a painting I adore.

Your infinite eyes show me the depths I could never reach, so I hide my adoration, for only in a different universe, where you and I were free from these heavy chains, could we make each other happy.

Oh how I love this man. But only in another life, you and I, my sun, my moon, we could have found this love intact.

And if ever we cover it in sage and gold, could I see me? Could you let go?

I see us slow dancing in our kitchen, elsewhere, a warm home for us both, happiness. It feel so far, but I love this man.

I love this man and I will never stop. 

I don't regret my lavender arm, or having fallen for you, I don't regret continuing to love you, or having the joy of watching you get lost in your mind despite the late rain on my path. 

I love this man and I don't regret the love I have.

Would you still come and make cheesy beano for us?

 It's been two weeks exactly, you set today as a deadline, which I refused, yet my heart aches from your absence.

I've gone mental, between wishing you well and back in my arms while knowing we agreed this was never going to work, cause we tried enough. 

Time brings distance from the wounds and they seem smaller now, so I have to keep reminding myself that it's no good, you're better off with someone else and I have to explore some time alone.

The nightmare last night fucked me up, recognising my darkness and seeing so clearly how I, despite the years and the work, still held onto so much baggage that you ended up carrying too. I've been spiralling, I want to be saved.

Would you come over and make us some cheese beano, cuddle on the couch, watch a film and have some green, ginger, orange, with honey, please.

I'm barely surviving in confusion between doors that neither open, nor close. I am stuck, even in writing right now, nothing flows and I want to die again. Nothing flows.

I always wanted to be taken somewhere I belong by the lights in the night sky as we went back to the city from my grandfather's home.

I'm tired of it all. I am tired of trying so hard. I am trying my best to survive but I'm tired, I don't want to try anymore. I just want a tiny flat, my plants and the arts, maybe a yoga mat. One big window and at a decent price...

I am tired of the stress of this country, always terrified to open the letter box, of random charges that may come and that I absolutely have to pay despite never having anything to do with them. And all of this while the world is burning down!

I wish we had been normal, living together, sharing our bills and responsibilities, accompanying each other in these pains. I wish you hadn't lied and I wish I wasn't so insane.

Then again, this abstract suicide wish is the comfort of home. The one consistent thing in my life: A wish to not exist.

Before even starting primary school, I wonder if it just came with me by default.

I miss you, waking up to those big morning hugs, back when we were happy. Cause we were happy, weren't we?

All memories have faded so far, both light and dark, but we laughed in Chile, we had fun, we survived together the journey there and back. But somehow it was the beginning of the end, that adobe hut in the desert, waking up to you crying. I'm so sorry we couldn't make it through. You were the only one to ever make me feel at home in this world and I have to let you go, for I don't want to make you cry anymore.

Your hands weren't tense in the pictures where we're together, that makes me glad, but it also breaks my heart for I made you softer and then tore your heart.

The problem was never you, I hope you know that. I hope you know that you are good, you're worthy.

I'm so sorry you also have this darkness in your life, it isn't fair. I wish I could have brought you light, but my own shadows took over me and sank us further down. Thank you for making me feel like I belong in this world for the time we held hands.

Thank you for the cheesy beano, the green ginger orange and our love. I really wish you well my lovely creature.
I wish you happiness, I wish you healthy love, I wish you joy and safety, health and stability. Good night my kindest eyes.

Some more uselessness. Another brain dump-

 I finally figured it out, partially, though. I am deeply toxic.

I don't mean this from a victim's place, I don't need them to say I'm not or try to prove otherwise. I'm saying this from the perspective of someone who is wounded, hence toxic. Someone who has fought her entire life against the same monsters, being outnumbered at all times, even now, over 30 and still at it, burnt out, and they're still as strong as they used to be.

The fishbowl we each live in, I heard today, can be enlarged by decisions and small changes, but habits alone won't free us from the glass, especially if it's so dark in here. Or who knows, maybe it would, and I've just cultivated useless ones, since I've been trying to reach the light while crashing against the same wall consistently for years. Like I collected weapons and ammo that don't work together, now I have a heavy load of nothing, for nothing.

I dreamt about you-him again. My subconscious decided you were Pancho: forever the first partner to ever make me feel both loved and disliked in exact equal amounts. Though, of course, that was already a repeated pattern. My mother was the first, my brother the second, my sister ran away from mom and my father, well, "when the father is absent or has no presence despite being physically there, the mother, without necessarily meaning to, takes that role". Hence, mother-father loved and disliked me first.

So I'm a people pleaser, to prove that I deserve to be liked, not loved out of blood ties or status. Yet the volcano explodes after a while of being perfect, and I continue to be disliked cause I can't even stand myself once the lava is going down, and I cannot stop it, it's too late. 
My friend says she's a people pleaser, but she's always imposing her own wishes, or maybe that's just how I feel it when she says what she wants, hurries me up or makes decisions for us without checking with me. That's not part of people pleasing behaviour, I find that very out of my own reality and understanding of this disease.
Since I can't stand confrontations with those who aren't close, my brain learnt to just not know what I actually want, so now if you ask me, I will only realise that whatever wasn't what I wanted once it's too late and I'm unhappy or frustrated.

The truth is, I kind of hate myself, too. It's weird, not knowing my dream and being obsessed with love, so I don't have to continue to see my own lack. Being obsessed with being sexy, while not being able to show myself as anything but a cute child.
People say they're shy, yet there they are having photoshoots. People say they don't know what they want, yet there they are following their dreams. People say they are people pleasers, yet there they are being assertive. People say they have no money, yet they have thousands in savings... I don't understand.

I am shy, I cannot even have a decent picture taken by someone else, and even by me, it takes me years to be comfortable enough. Now, all that process has gone to the trash since I cannot stand to see my face anymore.
I have no extra money to spend, it's been 5 years since I needed a new laptop and can't get it, it's been 8 years since I wanted a sewing machine, and still I don't have it. And as for savings, finally, I reached a couple of months of rent saved up, but it'll all go if I do go to visit my family this year again.
I truly don't know what I want, so all this creative energy is just pointless and turns into frustration and self-hate. So much that a friend asked me in the nicest way, "What do you do when you're not at work?" I panicked and said it was hard maintaining a home, but that I enjoyed writing and reading and cooking and music, which is all true, but the real truth is that I spend my days staring into the wall frozen until I can't stand it anymore, so I put the TV on and eat my feelings while watching someone else fulfil their dreams in a fake world.
I'm truly a people pleaser, so much so that having strong emotions makes me deeply uncomfortable. Yesterday at work, I told my boss we could reorganise something, which makes complete sense, and it would make the workflow much easier for all of us, but she said it was a waste and she and the other boss would have to approve it first, and she didn't. My insides where burning cause I know she's stupid, but she made me feel like my idea was shit, which I know it wasn't. There's also the second layer of knowing if my male coworker, whom she loves, would have suggested it, she would have agreed. There's a third, she takes advantage of how my German isn't the best to pretend she doesn't understand me and speaks her shit dialect to make sure I don't get what she's saying... I felt like a volcano as she walked away doing her stupid "doopty boopty" noises, and I was so uncomfortable, I wanted to hide and feel my feelings in the safety of being alone, even if I know I truly would want someone there, even if I know vulnerability is bravery, even if I know better... I cannot show how I feel in front of others, whether that's my unsafe shitty boss, or a close friend. 

My people-pleasing level is deep rejection trauma, not "I need to be more assertive".

People say... I don't say, but it's there and somehow way worse than what I see from those who do say. I try, it all feels so useless, I feel so useless.

I'm eating salad again.

 I want to share my new life with you and find support and encouragement within your arms. I want us to lie in bed while reading next to each other, having healthier food, opening our hearts to each other and working together on finding that happiness we both have been robbed of.

I want to feed you this salad I made, share my love in the form of little poems, silly drawings, early evenings, early mornings in nature, sharing the view of the moon, hearing the wind kiss the tree leaves. I want to kiss your eyes softly, hold your hands with all my love, listen to your voice over your beating heart, feel your warmth. I want to rejoice in your presence and for you to do the same.

There is so much love in my heart to give and it was you who I wanted to continue to give it to, but it went dry cause I didn't know what I needed in return and going from arms to arms in a continuous dance left my soul alone much further back.
The past three months have made me feel my soul closer to myself, my sensitivity has spiked but so has my capacity for love. I'm sad you're not here, I'm sorry I did so much wrong, I have a lot to learn still and I have some paths to follow. 
I wish you could also flow with my life as I did with yours. I wish you rid of that stiffness, your cages, I wish you happiness my eternal love. 

No one feels like you, my sun.

No one feels like you, I say this as a wave of sadness floods my heart, the fog grows stronger and paints the sun in blue, a fake moon.

I took the wrong train and changed at your old stop, a wish to find you came, though that wish is not new, nor strange, it's part of me now, every place I pass by, every blue bike, every cap, any green or teal, any black Reebok shoes...

The realization that 5 out of 8 years of being in this strange land was with you cuts deep somehow. And as I go to Ikea I remember us, I remember us as I go everywhere. If I could find you here, I'd spend every waking second standing at the door, just to be able to see you pass by, and I saw your double at Bauhaus, accompanied, like most people, but I know no one accompanies me as you used to, our silence, our peace is what I miss the most. 

Now I'm planning my visit home and my own land is painted over with memories of you, as sweet as rain in spring, melancholy. I'm longing for your arms, the sounds of your voice, my head on that place on your body which was made for me to rest on. Nobody feels like you and even with the best of friends, those who give me all I ever wished for, I miss our silence, our love.

I hope you know what we had was special, I hope you know that for me it is as big as the sun. Thank you for opening your heart to mine, I'm sorry I turned back to darkness so soon, or so late.

I'm an Earthquake

 I would be getting ready now as the sun shines. I would have had my healthy breakfast, done my little meditation and exercises, drank a liter of water already. I would have picked the long flowered dress, with boots and the black shirt you gave me. I would have taken a long shower, brushed my skin and done a scalp peeling. I would have carefully chosen my perfume, rubbed cream on and even put on a little make up and done my hair in some nice way.

I would have flossed even though I only do it at night, and I would have smiled at the mirror, even though I can't stand my face, but at least you liked it. At least you loved me, and your face is the one I like too, it's you the one I love.

Instead, I decided to sleep longer and it worked, though nightmares haunted me and my period pain arrived. I still meditated and did my little exercises, I still had my smoothie and drank a liter of water, I still take good care of myself because even without you, I need to prove to myself that I'm worthy, even if I don't smile at the mirror because I hate how I look, I deserve love.

What a rollercoaster it is to be in this world. Even my dreams shake often with the earthquakes of my mind, no wonder they do when in my veins runs the same soul of my home. The home of earthquakes and volcanos far south, deserts, mountains and the raging ocean splashing on rock and streets alike. 

I am soil of Chile, lost in the heartless, silver north, where now there's nothing else for me. I hope my beloved friends can keep the dreams for me in this tremor I am, so when the aftershocks fade, my heart still stands ready to move on with them.

Lovender

Finally I had a sex dream of you.

You were sitting there, pants down and your big erect penis, I had a dress and no underwear. I opened my legs and sat on you as a horse, as you slid inside me, I noticed all the people watching us, they watched and watched, so I got off to close the curtains, so many faces and eyes, it was a moment for us yet the whole world got involved. 

My mustard curtains were broken, I closed them.and walked back as they'd open again slowly. I did the trip twice before freezing in the middle until I thought: "Fuck it." And went over to sit on your now wet, big erect penis. 

I woke up before sitting back down.

In this life, I believe, I've laughed as much as I've cried, so I fear being in complete balance, it may be my time soon. I'm soaking up the full moon's light, topless and missing you, not for your body, but being someone I want to love, to touch, to kiss, to have close. 

I mourn the love we could have had. If I wasn't so blind and you weren't so deaf. If I had a brain and you had skin. What a curse to love so deeply, what a pain to see you part from my side, what a stab to have to end it for both our health.

I hope after this life, we can grow together as trees, those that live for thousands of years, but in a world where nature is god, so our love roots as deep as it is right now and feeds blessings to all who come near.

My lavender love.

Undone

 It still feels like it's not done, after an entire day of work, though cut by the destructive phonecall with mother, I still feel like there is more to let go.

I wonder if the fact that the things are still there in a box, waiting to be take out somewhere, affects this feeling of non-accomplishment, or if it's more about being a perfectionist.

I have exactly 22 clothes hangers and an extra 30cms of rail. I want wooden ones and I'd like 30 hangers. I want 10 simple cotton terracota-coloured underwear. I want to simplify everything and make any possible future move easier, lighter.

I need a change, it's too heavy to think of you so much each day, to wonder how you are, wishing you good night from my bed, longing for your touch. 

I want a new laptop to work on my texts, designs and music and I want instruments too. I want less stuff but also more beauty and joy in what I have. I want a proper toolbox and two wall shelves on top of each other. I want a brighter wallpaper, not the ugly one there is. I want my cotton terracotta coloured duvet cover and beige cotton fitted sheet. I want a sonic toothbrush and a new bike handlebar and seat. 

I want to let go of that overwhelming box, I just don't know where.

Am I desperately trying to get rid of the pain I feel? Cause I know it won't work by releasing objects, although it has brought some peace into this heart. 

Why does it still feel incomplete? Is it just your absence?

I love you.

 How I miss you my beloved creature.

It runs through places unseen, every moment of silence, with each breath and gaze into the distance I feel you. All is painted in your scent, a sweet woody teal only you create.

Today as I crossed the city whole, your home was nearby. At first I thought: what if I see you? What if you don't see me? What if I don't see you, but you do? Soon they became intrusive and painful: what if I see you, with someone else? Would it hurt more with someone new or someone old? Then came to the conclusion that old would be worse, also to how moving on is a slippery slope, I wish you happiness and love, yet I'd hate to see you with someone new.

Time please help me and be by my side, may I survive this into light and truly wish his kindest eyes to love and be loved again in respect, joy, calm and warmth. May he find the healing he needs, so the love he deserves may come for him too. Though I wish it would be me, if it's not, may it make his heart beat healthy, his smile be brighter and his hands fuller. 

May he be caressed with as much care as I did, may he be kissed with fearless passion, may he feel more than enough and better than perfect, may he feel brave, strong and fully himself. Accepted, appreciated, loved.

And Time, would you please help me find my way? May I find healing and peace, may I be happy as well as him.

And maybe, may our paths cross again, may our hands intertwine again, may our hearts beat near each other again, even if only as good companions and no lovers no more.

Oh how I miss you my loved one. Sleepy words slip from me as I stumble on the meaning of it all, I think all I'd truly mean is that:

No matter what, I love you.

Heartbroken letter to you and to me and to no one too

  How should I feel? How would a normal person feel?

I guess partially being happy for the love you've had, and that I do feel. But then I thought of how much I'm not right for you, and even though I know that it's also about how you're not right for me, my sickness decides to focus on how I am flawed and lesser than, and how much I miss you.
I thought of how much I changed through the relationship and ended up caught up in myself, unable to see you. I thought about how much I hurt you and I wish I could make it right.
Maybe the wish to get back with you is only to prove myself in your eyes, that I am better than anyone else or than specific others. 

I listened to this podcast yesterday about how we don't even realize the things we're good at because they are easy, simple and a given, so it's hard to even imagine that others would struggle with them unless we get the praise or recognition necessary to see it and truly believe it.
Of course, singing came to mind, and writing. If I do my best concerts in the shower in front of only myself, I don't get praise, but shouldn't it be enough? I love it, I enjoy it, I have fun with the challenges, sometimes they frustrate me too. I do it so much until I'm too tired and fuck my voice up. Writing is a bit different, but still partly like that, and it used to be even more when I was younger and I'd create fantasy stories of things I didn't even know.

And today, as I made the mid-morning coffee and warmed up the cake, I thought about how hard it is to do things just for myself. I can take myself out on solo dates or have movie nights with pop-corn and cozy stuff, but if it comes to a bigger project, like writing a story, baking a cake, cooking an elaborate meal, making a song, cleaning or tidying up thoroughly, it's such a difficult process, but if it's for someone I love, the simple image of seeing them happy and enjoying things, makes me happy. In a way, this is also about that recognition, about proving myself in their eyes.

I guess what I'm aiming at is to do it for oneself.

___

I have a new dream. It is that you live with us too, doing history and language-related workshops at the school or in the house, working the land, making handmade things, writing, laughing, reading and enjoying the sun. I think you also underestimate the effects of the weather on your mental health. 
In my new vision, you come to visit for a week, you're now free from the blockages life has brought upon you and I am too, meeting again feels right, completely right, so you mention coming back, staying for longer, slowly growing the idea of moving here too. I'd been waiting for this moment since before leaving and finally, my heart can be full again.

- But I know you love the city, I know you want things to happen around you, I know you have your friends here too, so I know this dream is very far-fetched. I also know my issues, I know how much I've hurt you and how much I've tried to get better, with only partial success.

I am truly sorry for all the pain I caused you, all the new fears and triggers I created in you. At some point, my pain took over and I couldn't even tell you why I love you anymore, cause for each good thing, my brain would push two bad ones in. I want to make a list of all your great characteristics and all the reasons why I love you, both including me and outside of me, but it's too late for such a list, I fear that it will hurt too much and I will regret it all even more. I fear that will bring more obstacles to the unlikeability of this dream.

___

As I laughed so hard with my friends this past year, as we moved closer, supported, accepted and celebrated each other, I thought of you. Of how much I wish you had been more of that too, at times, that wave of strength, celebration and joy, an enabler of the good things in me. But I cannot understand what it was of either me, my past, our present, past or you, that kept me from showing myself fully to you, without fear or pressure.
I was so worried about seeming too eager, too much, dumb, too interested, too fat, too disgustingly human... I was weighed down by the thought of you rejecting parts of me which eventually would turn into a full rejection of me, that I subconsciously hid parts, slowly caging myself into a box that I myself had created of what, how and who you would like. I wish I had seen this before, I wish I had been able to stop myself when we still had a chance.

The trigger for our break up was my joy, I focused so much on only that, I couldn't see all the other things you gave me. I obsessed with wanting to wholeheartedly laugh with you, I thought that plus our ease and calm, we could have "Sosiego", the word I chose for this year. Both joyful and at peace.
I love you so much, even now, after all we've been through, after all the pain and even through each time I get triggered and remember the things that deeply hurt, the things that make me, until this day, feel insecure, uncomfortable, stuck and frustrated. Even through this all, I love you.

I think I'm selfish, I thought of the things you like and how I never really got too involved in them. I think in a way, I caged you too, talking about emotions and the past, instead of the things you loved like football and history. I'm sorry I got impatient when you'd tell me the same story for the 10th time, I'm sorry I forget things so often, but mostly I'm sorry for how much anguish, anxiety and wounds I caused you.

I'm sorry for my selfishness, I'm sorry for having tried to change you, even if it was subconsciously. The only thing I can see that was good about this all is that we did grow together, quite a bit. We went from our 20s to our 30s, we opened our wounds and disinfected some bits, we became ripe fruit. I wish now I could eat you whole, but in this same growth we found seemingly inescapable differences, we made new wounds. Have we learnt our lessons? 

I fear that after all this, in the end, I'm just like your ex.

Collection of Sleepy Morning Poems from 2021

April 17th - Homeless

Little bites over my body,
The inside of my lungs,
My brain, my guts.

A tiny monster gnawing,
Parasite of a world, 
Slow and steady. 

Put a lid on, it overflows.
There's no end to
Exponential growth.

How long till you change?
Do we have to die first? 

Despite it all,
Another shitty job, 
I'll be homeless again, soon.

Another Brain Dump on a bad day.

Hey there, long time no see, really.

I've been looking for you, and I know you've been looking for me too. It feels so strange to find you again after such a while, knowing you're there, hearing you knock as I'm stuck on the other side of the glass, looking into your eyes, incapable to go through, either me or you.
Writing here and there brings us closer, but we both know the right conditions are necessary and for much too long they've not been there. Today, however, it may be the day again, when that glass breaks and you can come back into my arms.

Or maybe not, we shall see what is there to come. No time pressure, not much at least, many emotions and confusions though, I hope the gentle music won't take me away from this. I want to hold you, be fully in here with you, flood me with your presence, I will take you however you're weathered.

I see the ocean raging, I hear raindrops, but there is some peaceful sun somewhere. I feel a frustration, like an ever-growing mountain that just won't let me finish the race. Tight hips, strange pains and a flu that's too strong, the blood. 
When did I stop being able to face the silence? When did screens and sounds become the rulers of my life? I tried so hard when I was younger, I told my parents I didn't want a TV in my room anymore, it was the 90s, the beginning of the end of brain usage. When you'd watch a film and think about it afterwards, there was space to be. The rest was also there, sexy women on billboards, prank radio shows, scammers, "don't talk to strangers on the internet", but it was possible to stay away and continue to be part of society, unlike now.

Now everything shines and everything sells and grows and moves and faster, faster!

The memories of my mother's office where I wrote endless secret stories while waiting for her day to be done so we could go home. I was scared of being alone. How old was I then? It all felt so much easier but even then I had an impossibly heaviness inside me, writing about death, hate and passion, I wasn't older than 12.
The TV was removed even earlier, I didn't want to be a slave, but here I am and here are we all. Everything sells, shines, grows, more portable, lighter, hardcore and faster, faster! I want no second without stimuli!

I've been trying for years to escape, but as much destruction as it brings, it also delivers hope. I could be discovered on YouTube too, or I can start my own business selling and shining and growing and faster, faster.

There was a little creature in here once, she drew wholeheartedly, but she wasn't the best. She could sing and play like angels, but her voice got too loud. She wrote stories and poems about things she hadn't ever known before and she was visited by all sorts of big men and women, to get her advice. A surprising little creature whose light was too bright for her own good. She was shut down, sometimes by others, sometimes by the world, mostly by herself. 
The shy little creature with a mother so eager that instead of supporting her gentle child, she scared her, without meaning to, with prospects of grandiose books and full stadiums of listeners. A creature so gentle, so soft and young feels only fear when those thoughts come by.
Over 20 years have passed since then, the creature is as much of an amateur as she was back then. She didn't know what she needed, hence didn't know to ask and now she cannot provide it for herself. This world is too fast and overwhelming.
They say that you have to fight for your dreams, with sweat, blood and tears. But how do you fight if you don't know the dream? Why fight 20 little battles when none is sure to be your own? How can you find the mountain that's for you to climb?

Today I decided to watch an old Ghibli film I'd never seen before, "Whispers of the Heart". The main character was reading 20 books before the beginning of the next semester and coincidentally a boy has lent the same library books, a bit of fate and a bit of work bring their lives together. He wants to be a violin maker, she envies him, for she doesn't know what she wants to be. Soon she figures it out and she knows the paths to take. 

I envy her, for within a school semester she figures out her dream. It's been over 20 years of being a master of none, knowing myself none.
I've done choir, clay, drawing, bookbinding, woodwork, piano, crochet, writing, knitting, designing furniture, architectural pieces, calendars, guitar, sewing clothes, tarot, ukulele, psychology, neuroscience, meditation, yoga, candle-making, declutter, styling, hair-dressing, interior design, organizational secretary... And here I am, still. As lost as I was when I was a child, a little shy creature who knew too much pain for her own good and was too concerned with the strangeness and pain of the world around her to understand herself. I am still the same. Good enough at too many things, too good enough for my own good.

So I wasted more hours on the phone, social media, and useless games. I feel so paralysed each time I think of what to do next. Free days become curses of insecurities, failures and restlessness, cause there is so much I would like to do but somehow, I can't get myself to do those things. I am still stuck in the freeze response.

Today between the period and the flu, there may have been more to it than I thought.

I feel so lonely today, I miss him, but not really him, the idea of him. That person I wished him to be, my mistake for not seeing who he really was, as well as not showing who I really am. At least I know none of it was on purpose, I can forgive myself for the mistakes I've made.
If he had asked me, invited me, offered me, I would have said yes without a doubt, but I know now that it's good that never happened, for it never felt completely right despite how perfectly natural and smooth it felt too. I always felt an obstacle in our path, whatever it is, it's still there now and us moving closer together wouldn't have dissolved it.

I wish it had been you, I miss you.

Motherly

 Where are you? How's it going? 

It's hard to have given so much emotional support for you to be out of my life so abruptly.

Like a mother missing a child, that's really not a good sign. 

How could you compare a 15 second back rub and two standing hugs, with all the emotional and physically emotional support I've given you? It's breadcrumbs I got from you. You say it's all you could give, I understand it and accept it, but I need more than someone who would not reassure me after I tell him my fears, more than someone who would close his door while I'm crying as I leave.

I deserve someone who would think: "she works the whole day standing, maybe a long standing hug while I put part of my weight on her isn't the best", or "I do muay thai, I'm used to being hit and hit others, my hands are heavy and strong, I will be careful with her".

But instead I'd say something hurts and you wouldn't change a thing, only say you're not doing it strongly. I'll never forget the countless times you pressed your thumbs into the nerves on the soft sides of my wrists while "playing". Maybe already then you resented me and that's why you hurt me so much in disguises while saying it's not too strong.

It's hard to look back at these moment and recognize I let myself be mistreated again. 

In your kind eyes, I found my own pain.

The flowers died on Monday.

 "I will always be there for you" - his voice rang in my ears and he closed the door while I left, crying. Crying my heart out I left his house and he just said -"bye". The promise of eternal safety was already broken from the moment he pronounced those words, and now, at the edge of this bridge, I'm thinking life isn't worth it at all. It's just pain over injustice over heartbreak over loneliness over more pain. Goodness isn't there if you're honest. You must learn to bullshit them around and be a pretty petite girl or a petty snake.

Once again this year, despite the one resolution, I wished to be dead again. At least this should be the last time I ever wish for it.

Pieces of thoughts, pt.1

 If you had asked me to stay, I would have gladly stayed, in your arms if I could. Now if that would have been a good idea or not, I'd say probably not, but who cares, it's just life anyway. 

You cry with me, you fall asleep with me, but I don't know what you feel. 

What are you thinking? I wish to know your darkest thoughts, but you want them unknown and that is part of the part that has us apart.

As I freeze in the night walk to the station, I think of how love can be so silly, so consumingly dumb. Despite its purest intentions, its raw honesty and vulnerability, it can turn us blind and stupid. How can something so beautiful become the death of someone like me. A death within life, one of many, that we walk through as we go.

I found a note in my pocket, I wrote it a couple of days ago at the shop after a few couples of weirdos I saw:

"I see strange people and turns out they're couples, and I think of you and I. We are odd too, unlike them, not too cool, not too uncool either, we are our own unique sort of odd. How can it be so obvious, how can it feel so obvious, but not work out? I miss you, but I idealize you too and often I wonder if this is a mistake"

----

If you had asked me to stay, I would have stayed, we would have talked again, we would have decided to give a chance to that list we made, try it ouy. Maybe then, the scene of odd people and their lost odd partners suddenly found, would make sense for us too.

Death wishes again.

 What do I do now, with the note on my fridge, my favourite poem and the pillow I hug to sleep? 

What do I do now with the blanket you gave me and curtains and the kitchen?

What do I do now with all the love?

What do I do now, knowing she was right? Knowing I've lost again.

My new year's resolution was to stop wishing for death, but here I am again, knife at hand, only stopped by the knowledge of the pain I'd cause to those who love me.

I feel so lonely. It was always you who cleared my tears, you who I could call when the world crumble, to spoon me with your whole warmth, to let me rest my head on your chest and filled me with peace with the silly little things you would share. It was always you who were home and who made me feel like everything was going to be alright.

And now it's you who I've destroyed, who I've hurt so much with my own pain and it's my curse. 

So here I am, knife at hand, wishing to leave this place. Mother in my mind, a doomed future, the black hole I am.

And you were so mean, and you were so rushed, and you said I'm illogical, nonsensical, but you never truly asked.

Rubbing my knee, expecting me to cum, your arms would go numb. And so now, burntout, from trying so hard without knowing what.

Wasn't it easy, wasn't it fun? That last beautiful time. It hurts even more.

I'd open my veins today, I wish you would come to stop me. I wish everything was truly ok. But I have nothing anymore.

The table I got, all my possessions, I want none anymore.

I took the note on my fridge, stored it in the book, it's facing the other way so I can't read the spine. I'm so glad I read it, now I won't move it again. 

Against all my wishes, today again I wish I was dead.

Black hole

I wanted to help you heal, 

yet all I did was hurt you deeper. 

I wanted to coat your heart with my love 

until only scars were left.

I wanted to kiss your harsh edges 

for to show you their worth.

I wanted to bathe you in my warmest embrace

scaring violent memories away.

I wanted to feed you kindness and song 

to free you from self-imposed chains.

There was so much I thought I could 

bring to your wounded soul,

so much I wanted to hold for you.

Yet all I did was to hurt you deeper, 

stab your brain with panic, 

nail your armour down in steel,

erase your golden heart,

and smash your fire till you

no longer could shine.

That is my curse,

all I touch dies, 

slowly, 

and you

were my victim, the one 

I hoped would end this cycle.

Yet history repeated itself, for

my void swallows it all,

and you of all creatures

deserve the sun, 

not 

a black hole.

I'm sorry amor, I promise

I won't hurt no new hearts.

I promise I

won't spread death no more.

I'm sorry you,

love of my all my lives, 

there won't be more 

after you.

No one else,

deserves better,

and despite it all, at times

I wish I'd never been summoned

into this fever dream I

made of you and I.

I'm sorry to have destroyed 

your precious mind.