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one day i will be able to wake up and be glad that i did.

one day i will be able to go through the day without wishing to die.

one day i will be able to look in the mirror and not see the disappointment of my parents, the face of insomnia, the empty eyes of someone dead inside.

one day i will stop turning to the quick fix of warmth down my throat when things get a little rough.

i’ll stop turning to the heady feeling of euphoria after lungfuls of smoke.

one day i will look at you and not feel empty and guilty and worthless and not good enough.

one day i will not cross the street to avoid the people i love; loved.

one day i will stop waking up gasping for air in the dead of the night.

i will stop screaming the names of people who won’t come.

i will find an anchor in myself when breathing gets hard and my vision stutters.

i will be happy with the life i live and the people i have.

one day i will wake up and be happy that i did.




lately I’ve been thinking of using my blog more often as well as using it as journal. i never seem to have the time to write in my journal or have it with me when i do. today was a day. prelims started and the paper was nice. english paper 3. the topics were nice and i made it with a minute to spare. i slept when i got home. it was the sleep where you wake up and immediately fall back asleep, on and on and on. during these ‘awake’ periods i was messaging my girlfriend and nothing felt real. in the silence of my room time felt slow and sluggish but every time i checked my phone for the time it was moving normally. the light coming through my curtains looked like it was moving, everything felt distorted. it felt like i was dreaming even though i knew i was awake. after every message i’d fall back asleep only to startle awake when she replied. i kept nodding off while typing a reply. i googled what the word is for feeling like you’re in a dream but you’re awake. i came up with Depersonalization/Derealization [a persistent or recurring feeling of being detached from one’s body or mental process, like an outside observer of their life (depersonalization), and/or feeling of being detached from one’s surroundings (derealization)]. according to google DR is associated with DP. DPDR is linked to anxiety which makes sense why i feel like this. i feel like i’m changed and like the world around me isn’t real, like existence isn’t real. am i real? am i alive? am i real to the people around me? are they real? am i making them all up? i can’t tell. Jaydeane says i’m real and that i’m real to the people around me but i could be making that up too.



the end of the world

when you’re growing up just about everything feels like the end of the world.

your boyfriend breaking up with you feels like a knife to the gut;

your mother saying “no” to going out with friends feels like she’s trying to keep you locked up, trying to make you look like an outcast to your peers;

going to school (waking up, eating breakfast, answering questions, doing homework) feels like a prison sentence, it feels like 25 to life.

once you’ve grown up it feels like the world is yours.

uni feels like a 4 year party filled with friend and alcohol and sex;

then you realize it’s another 4 years added to your prison sentence.

your first serious relationship feels like a forever, it feels like a future with a white picket and 2.5 kids;

then you break up and you swear off relationships for the rest of your life- it only lasts 3 months.

your first job is the most exciting thing you’ve ever done, it feels like the first time you ride a rollercoaster and your heart beats so loud it feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest;

then you wake up one morning and you hate your job and your empty bed and your cheap apartment and bad coffee and lonely dinners.

the reason all these these things feel like the end is because no one ever talks about the things that matter.

no one talks about the panic you feel in the last lesson of the day because when that bell rings you have to go home to a broken family.

no one talks about the voices you hear when you’re all alone in your empty bed in your cheap apartment alone at 3 in the morning.

no one talks about the constant anxiety you feel trying to make yourself perfect for the outside world, the depression from too much death and destruction.

everything feels like the end of the world until you wake up one day and decide that you’ve had enough of your shitty self and your shitty job and your shitty life so you go back to sleep and never wake up again.


a lover, my lover, other lovers

a lover is a forest fire,

burning bright and out of control.

a lover is the smoke you inhale from a house fire,

it chokes you up and burns your eyes, your skin, your soul.

having a lover is like your mum telling you not to touch the stove when you’re 4 years old because it will hurt you- but you touch it anyway and cry when it burns.

my lovers are like stars,

they burn so bright sometimes that i forget that all stars are dead matter.

my lovers are like the sun,

you can’t look at them for too long or you’ll go blind.

my lovers are like a storm,

raging one minute but gone the next.

other lovers look like the first snowfall of winter, soft and pure and beautiful.

they look like the changing of seasons, summer sun turning into autumn leaves.

other people’s lovers look like the intimate touch two people share in the early light of day on a lazy Sunday morning.

other lovers look nothing like mine.

they don’t look like the chaos rising,

they don’t feel like gasping breaths in the middle of the night.

they don’t feel like keloid scars.

other lovers look like the home i can’t seem to find in mine.




I stand in front of a stone

And wonder how such a lifeless thing is supposed to portray

The light of your smile,

The melody of your laugh.

How this rough stone is supposed to portray

The velvet feeling of your skin,

The feather-light way you used to touch me.

I wonder how this piece of nothing with a worthless epitaph on it is supposed to describe

The good you did for others,

The sleep you lost for the people you love,

The lengths to which you went to show me how much you loved me.

And I stand in front this stone; this rock with my palm on it’s surface,

And the bitter cold spreads from my hand into my bones

And I think how fitting this feeling is;

Because that’s what life without you is like.

It’s fragile smiles and hollow bones.

An emptiness in my chest that can’t be filled by the ‘I’m sorry’s and the pitying looks.

It’s waking up with your name on my lips and tears on my cheeks.

It’s the days I lose missing you when I’m awake but not present.

It’s the feeling of dread that spreads through my body when I wake up with your side of the bed cold.