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It's kind of a shame how this girl has gone almost two decades without really knowing who she is. How can you live without really knowing anything, especially not knowing yourself? It's kind of crazy to me how little I know about myself, how little I know about life in general. I feel like the person I was meant to be is stuck in some portal far beyond this one, one I don't have the power or strength to open. No amount of digging is going to bring her to the surface. I’ve spent years trying to find her, and there are times I had mistaken wishful thinking for footprints and followed them, and they only led me to her grave. So, with all my strength, I dug and dug and dug and dug, and to my dismay I looked down at the hole and saw absolutely nothing. Then I climbed into it like a bed and tried to get comfortable in this foreign space. It was cold and unfamiliar, but all I wanted was something to fall into, and the dirt was all I had. So, I sunk in deeper and closed my eyes, trying to imagine the dirt was my calling, or maybe it was merely a blanket to comfort me, provide me with a sense of safety I never felt while I was alive. I sat in silence with myself and waited for some sort of holy answer, yet I didn’t believe in god. I couldn't hear a thing. It's funny how I talk of soul searching. It's funny how I talk of rediscovering myself, but honestly how can I search for a soul I don't have or rediscover something I never had?

As a child I felt invisible, as if I weighed nothing and could squeeze myself into the walls and live there. Or morph into liquid, like the TV character from one of my favorite TV shows and evaporate. I could observe, merge with the world without participating, and no one would notice I was missing. How can anyone miss who was never born? But I suppose it's a thing, because I sometimes feel like I’m missing this girl I was supposed to be. I can feel her in my chest, but she never quite makes herself known. Maybe that’s who these characters were, these other people I tried to be, these stories I created. Parts that couldn’t quite materialize, lives that I only lived in the confines of my bedroom. They were parts of me seeping through the wall of my heart, the barrier between me and the outside world I learned to fear far too young.

Sometimes I just feel like I’m slowly dying, my mind being the silent killer, because no matter how many times I talk, no matter how many times I cry, I still feel like I weigh heavier than any human should. I don’t feel like my tears are washing anything away. I’m just left here, existing. And people who say they love me tell me they don’t understand how I can possibly feel so worthless, but they have no idea they've made me feel this way. They’re the reason I died, and I know they don’t think they’re capable of murder.
 

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The dark mist embraces me, cloaking my ability to absorb life in the world,
Like a seducer, he whispers sweet words in my ear, words of consolation
And I take heed to his poison, whose vapours can soothe existential pain
While one's vitality is sucked away. I see a horrified child, screaming in fear
Without any control of his mind, his body, his life, imprisoned by death
Endlessly tortured with the hope of renewal which lies just beyond reach
Teasing, coaxing like a siren singing a sweet song while her lovers are dashed on the rocks
But to live without love makes every waking moment an agony, what is worse?
To die embraced in your lover's arms or to live on forever, but in silence, unable to see colour,
To feel joy, taste mirth, or find a noble calling?
 

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Cette femme est magnifique.

Or so I thought...

I walk through the evergreens, sometimes I ponder. And I keep walking and wonder, what makes her glow and gleam. She speaks a different wave, elle est francaise, but beyond what I cannot discern I often touch by the see-through glass, and rub my eyes to get a closer look. And from this point I save, and listen to what she says, but upon the blurry whispers I find so much, and in her sunshine I bask, to find no love in her eyes for another has took.
In her elegance I praise, but only from afar.
In her beauty I gaze, but only from this car.

I like her, and it's not a secret.
It's only a secret, to her.

And the world will never know.
And this girl will never know.

Pray it fades, pray it never comes back
Pray for the rain, pray it disappears into the black.
 
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Anonymous

Hello, you.

You who are, to me, anonymous.

You whom I have almost known.

You whom I've almost didn't love.

Hello.

Oh, in what passion that I write this letter

Hope I that you'll never know,

Hope I that you'll never see

The kind of things it did to me––

I loved you for a while and then

I loved that this obsession lasted.

Fondly, I would think of you,

The you who's not even in plain view.

I stretch my arm in front of you,

My palm blocking the sight of you.

I know you not, I try not to.

Lest I cannot get over you.

Funny, and I refuse to see

The part of you that's sort of sweet.

Repel me, please, I beg of you.

But consciousness reminds me so

That you're aware and have to be.

Hello, you who know that I like you.

Hello, yes, you whom I like.

Hello.

Hello.

And good night.
 

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This holiday has been but relaxing. I feel like I can finally relax at day 5th. It's my mind, once work tasks are gone and I have more time and space for myself, my own thoughts, mind starts buzzing at different frequency than on typical weekday, when stress and hectic schedule is removed from the equation. There's more room for emotional stuff you typically would avoid, not intentionally, but automatically during the sleep and work, and they would make themselves known perhaps in dreams, but not otherwise visibly. Now, they have been bubbling constantly. One day, I spent entirely thinking about my life and it made me cry. I couldn't shift focus elsewhere, none of the usual distractions worked, so I just let it happen.

Physically, I've felt for a couple weeks that there is something wrong with my health. I'm not sure if this is real or just a side-effect of the current situation, which makes one monitor their selves even more closely than usually. I visited my mother and felt guilt afterwards immediately, thinking I shouldn't have, because she's in the risk group x10. She's very social and outgoing, now having to stay at home in quarantine for own health. She begged me to go visit her, because she's prone to depression. She's been calling me on phone daily, asking menial things, talking about trivial stuff. I mostly listen, but do so, because it's important to her. It's clear she suffers from this situation.

Despite of this, I will celebrate tonight, for moving on from a toxic connection to a more free zone. I imagine my life a map on a board game, moving the piece forward that is myself. It's a great feeling, the sensation you can control something, even how small, in your life. You have to feel that sometimes in order to stay intact. I'm no longer anchored to him, which is the biggest thing affecting me.

I have a male friend I spend time with weekly, usually when drinking. He's been making advances to me for months, and I may have subtly suggested somethings a while back, which only encouraged him. I think it was wrong of me. I enjoy his attention, but I truly don't see him as equal. He's an adult man, but like a teenager mentally. I feel like scolding him sometimes.
 

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Abstruse Fantasy

She taps the end, sending the ash below from the tip.
She sighs the smoke that obstructs her sight.
He manifests into view, that bitter-sweetness.
His arms gather themselves around her,
She slowly grabs for them and leaves a black mark on her white blouse,
and the fantasy is gone.

Time clears the smoke and the sounds of children's laughter are heard.
From outside her apartment they play.
That sweet bitter sweetness,
Her clear eyes become as streams.

-Denature
 

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This afternoon I had fish bone stuck in my throat.

I tried :

[x] drinking it down with a glass of water
[x] Force coughing
[x] Force vomit

But none of them worked.

It hurt like fuck, but I didn't want to go to the hospital yet.
I went home and Google for advice.

GOOGLE SAID :

Yes, bread can help you!

So I went to get some bread, dunk it in water and slowly swallowed it.
It did help eventually. I'm very grateful I didn't die.
 

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it's funny though. look. all the broken pieces. sunshine, bleeding through the glass. you know it hurts, you know it hurts. can you feel the tear drops? a flash, a cutting piece, in the middle of a thought. and then, the morning, starts to clash, all the windows, all the reflections of light. it's way too much. too much. this is a curse dear, i ask to the sky, why am i afraiding that much? happiness, reflecting through the glass, vision's certainty cutting my float, sunshine, teardrops. i'm walking, near the sun. it is a happy day, happy day, why not? what is this black water? what is this heaviness with the sun rise? yet so small, yet so fearful. can't you hear, all the light, the screams of a burning bride. why, why can't you understand, why i woke up with all fear, all the time? broken glass, broken light, bleeding through my mind. why can't you stop? why? this place is so small, yet so loud. all of a sudden, i miss everyone. night is kissing my bride and i start to breath. start to see. a letter, a smile, a car. a promise written under the glass. a broken glass, a broken light. a broken smile.
 

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Bingo the dog sat upon the stair
he looked afar and saw his reflection there
he barked at it asking it to come and play
yet sadly, no response is what Bingo got that day

Carol drank a cup of tea
and thought "there is no one to drink with me"
so she poured herself a glass of wine instead
and soon she found herself in bed

Jared was a man with a plan
he'd buy himself a shiny new van
and he'd be able to sleep in it wherever he went
how much money do you think he spent?
 

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Feel like I am in a daze, like I am not accepting that my brother is gone. There will be days where I'm completely okay and than something makes me think of him and I start to cry out of nowhere. He took his own life. So many people tell me to move on, but it's sort of hard to move on. This is what people don't understand. It's so easy isn't it? To say move on to someone. They are not you or know how you feel, deep inside. Remember him coming into my room, I was on my bed depressed due to an sexual assault that happened to me, I feel guilty for not getting up. He hugged me close to him and said, "You take care of yourself." These words echo inside my mind, everytime I think of him. Did I know he was suffering? No I did not. How could I have known? He seemed happy or this is what he wanted people to think, that he was, "okay" Now that he's gone, these memories come and go inside my mind. Us laughing together, his jokes, the way he played his guitar, how he was so caring and loving towards his daughter. All these thoughts come into my mind and I try to make sense of them all. Try to figure it all out and trying to put it together, when he was suffering and why he never said anything. This is something I'll never know. When we got the phone call, I had no idea of what was to come. My Mom cries and I feel frozen in my seat, which seemed like forever, just looking at my dinner plate. Unable to speak. Unable to move. How could I have known? We could have done more, but we didn't. Grief is so strange, it's something I'm figuring out now. You just never know when you'll cry again. One little memory can come back to you and you'll be crying again. I wish people understood this, instead of saying "move on" or "get over it" this is not what you say to someone. This is the first time I've written any of this, but I knew I had to get it out. In order to heal, because I still blame myself. For not getting out of bed and realizing that my brother was suffering.
 
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