What Do I Do With All This Untouched Grief. It Grows Stale In My Mouth.

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?

something something going through the streets of the town my mother grew up in. she grew up here. she was a child here. i am no longer a child. time passes so quickly. stuck in the traffic here, time doesn't seem to be passing at all. i hope the journey takes forever. i hope we never reach. it won't be the same as last time. this town was never mine so why does it still feel like home. one day, I'll come here for the last time. how will i gather everything in my little suitcase? all that sweetness, it turns sour when you take it back.

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.

'i would like to step out of my heart

and go walking beneath the enormous sky

i would like to pray'

i have been strangers with my words for a while now. my words, the ones that helped me let go of my pain, helped me breathe. but some things you can't let go of. you can only bury them so deep in that you won't ever have to think about them again.

some days, i think i would be alright if everyone i've ever loved, ever held close to my heart would leave me. i tell myself it wouldn't hurt. that it would be for the best. some days, i forget how my heart feels everything too much, how it can't help but hurt.

i look back at the past few months and i try to detach myself from the pain, the grief. i would go for days and weeks without thinking about it, without shedding a tear. until one day, a random thought, a reminder, a realization. they're gone. and it would hit all over again. a blinding pain that leaves me gasping for breath.

when i was a child, i would pray to god to take my pain away. it didn't make sense for me to have to feel all that. god never did, and i am no longer a child. i haven't prayed in a very long time, it makes me angry.

when grief comes knocking at my door, i turn the volume up and pretend i don't hear. i pretend it's fine until the walls start to crumble around me and grief barges in through the broken door. it holds my face in it's hands, looks into the eyes that refuse to shed it's tears and tells me, "it won't be the end of the world if you feel"

maybe not the world, but it would be my end. for how will i ever stop, once i start?

idek these days. are these happy? or are these sad? ig these are the middle days... the normal days that normal people have, when they follow their schedules and do normal people things. but like, who even are these nornal people? who here does not have something hurting them at any given point in time? who here does not get days and weeks and months when they just... can't. i can't believe that exists at all. but maybe it does, who am i to judge. maybe i would like to be there someday. someday...

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?

day 11

8:51 p. m.

i feel like i'm losing track of days. like i'm in a perpetual haze. like my body exists out of my self. like i am but a spectator in my own days. i wake up and i make my coffee. i drink it and i read. i work out and do chores. i write too. but my mind is... somewhere else. i run my fingers through my hair, unaware of both hand and hair. i place the leaf in chapter twenty-nine, not knowing what's in there. nothing feels real. no, not nothing. this pain feels real. too real. this heart that beats too fast feels real. this mind, though lost, still exists. i think therefore, i am. i must be. or i must not.

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 10

10:59 p. m.

my hearts yearns for something it has never had. something it's not even sure exists. it searches and searches. in songs in languages it doesn't yet know and in people's last words. in stories written ages ago. in sunsets and stars long dead. i don't know what it wishes for. perhaps a way out of this world. dear heart, where would you like to go? dear heart, will you be happy there?

this unexplainable urge for a life i've never had, will never have. for a life so far from mine, it doesn't even know i exist. and yet, the yearning. oh the yearning, what do i do with it?