despite how hard i’ve wished and prayed you weren’t the one. you are. and i know i can never love you how you want me to.
i can’t shake this feeling that i will walk by the love of my life oblivious. that i will never be able to know him.
the days of my american dream drag on and on.
i swear it almost rained. i swear it almost washed out the whole world. i swear i almost gave up.
i am angry all the time.
someone asked me today what made me feel the most alive. and through tears i told them it was you.
i’d never been in a room so tense. then everyone came back broken.
the rage in me has made my humanity scarce. i will not be quiet about it.
i’m losing myself. can’t you tell?
i am so terribly sad. someone must be watching the movie of my life for a good cry.
i hope you find your soulmate in this lifetime. my knees are bruised from praying that it’s me.
the taste of tragedy is so fresh on my tongue. i believe the aftertaste shall linger forever.
peace is white like my dress. i just wish my dress didn’t have those horrific blood stains.
for once, my mind is quiet.
i only feel love from my older friends. only they know how to handle the deep sadness that comes along with me.
i’m tied to your soul. and you’re tied to mine. i can see it in your eyes, when you speak to me. you look like a child again, but we happened at the wrong time.
happy birthday baby. even though you’re on the other side of the world. even though you hate me. happy birthday baby.
we were everything. everything.
you told me i was cruel. all i said was that you were the loss of my life. why would i lie to you? i don’t think i am capable of it.
the most tragic moment of my life, was realizing my own Cassandra complex. realizing no matter how many times i told people it wouldn’t work out, they wouldn’t believe me.
i read somewhere, that there is a day in the year that is always a catalyst. a day where you hit rock bottom for years on end. mine is november 9th.
why must i be so full of rage? i can only dream of peace.
i feel so terribly lost. and in that state i wrote only two sentences.
i am only consumed with my sadness when i am alone. this week my schedule is filled to the brim to avoid mere minutes alone with my mind.
i came home with blood on my hands and you were terrified of what i’d done to someone. it never occurred to you that the blood on my hands was my own.
i didn’t think the depth of my pain was visible from the outside until my mother told me she hated my sad eyes. that my eyes were always so joyful and now they appear as small voids to something darker.
there is hate brewing in my bones. i do not believe it will stop until you are laid to rest.
though i am a young, privileged white woman, with nothing to complain of, sobs rack my body for years on end. my picket fence and shaggy dog can’t save me from this ugly world.
among the thousands of pages i’ve written, i know there is one constant. you are on every single one.
i do wish i could find even a small flicker of the blazing fire that was once in me, but it has been doused in water repeatedly.