i told myself i wasnt good enough nor will ever be. that i could never achieve my dreams.

and when i said out loud that i hated my life, everything stood still. i watched the dust freeze in the air. and i saw my reflection in the black screen of the tv. how a hollow feeling felt in my stomach and rummaged up through my chest. how i felt my throat tighten. how empty i felt. how hurt i felt when i realized that my friends werent actually my friends anymore. how detached i was from them but how much i clung on. how embarrased i felt. how lonely and hopeless i felt. my friend had gotten a boyfriend and didnt tell me, thats when i knew we werent close anymore. neither did she answer my texts. but how narrow and reality-distant my definition or idea of a friend was. i was lost. lonely. hopeless for the future. i began analyzing every aspect of my life and especially how i couldnt engage in romantic settings with a guy and how uncomfortable i felt when it occured. especially with strangers. how scared i was of men. how i couldnt picture myself being intimate with someone but wanting it so bad at the same time. nothing made sense.

five minutes later and im sitting at the dinner table with my family and pretending i didnt just fall into a deep, dark hole. going on as if i didnt just tell myself that i hate my life and how much i thought about how bad i have it. forcing the negativity to the back of my head, plastering on a happy smile. continuing the evening and cozying up later by myself, forgetting what happened earlier, but knowing they’ll return another day if not tomorrow. fake happiness. but truth is i cant remember a time where i didnt struggle. is happiness even fucking real? because it sure seems like i fucking cant have it! not truly. not purely. not lasting. so fuck this! i’ll force myself having cozy, happy moments by myself because i cant ever fucking be in a permant state of happiness.

my jaw was rock-hard, sore and hurt. but it couldnt beat the feeling of being wrong, lonely, not good enough, abandoned, left out, hopeless, genuinely unhappy through and through. it makes it hard to breathe sometimes.

(this is purely fictional, btw. just glad my life cant sue for plagiarism... jk jk. but on a serious note, most people, including me, experience some, if not all of these thoughts and i just like to put them down on paper because it helps me. thanks for reading)

You were in my white linen

But I was at the window

Looking out

Admiring the greenery

The blue water reflections

But everything I admired

I admired them at the thought of you

You shed new light upon everything

So when you left

I feared I was left with a world coloured by your love

Admiration became reminiscence of you

So I had to colour it all back again

Next time

I'll keep the crayons to myself

Living most of his life lying on the grey sidewalk, looking up into the blue sky, resembling possibilities and dreams, was more of a slap in the face than a motivational element. There was nothing he could do, although many claimed otherwise. Once all trust and motivation and hope had slipped down the drain among other bodily fluids, there was just this emptiness filling out the space. Emptiness that kept him from thinking.

Everyone was bringing bad news anyway. Their eyes revealed them all passing him by in a hurry, keeping their heads down. He had a point of view of their everyday that not even their therapists would ever be able to achieve. He had seen people walk down the street, worrying they will lose their homes when the mortgage market crashed. He felt utter pity and honest empathy; they had something to lose. Something valuable. That was when the epiphany hit him. He, indeed, had nothing to lose. He saw no value in his few belongings and worse; his own existence. He thought to himself, what if I ended it right here and now? And a wave of relief stroked him. He realized, what he had been holding on to all this time, was in fact nothing. His grip of emptiness, of the feeling of indifference, the very key factor of survival in his case, slipped. A wave of self-realization eventually, and finally, bashed him against the expensive, grey government building he had been taking shelter next to his entire twenty years on the street. A rightful ending at home. Suicide, they said.

The summer nights I couldn't sleep

Between the blue shadows on my walls

And the orange-coloured sky,

Projecting pink light onto my white walls

Was like the sun had never gone down

The sweet silence I listened to

Was one with the outside

Through the opened window

My loose soft t-shirt with a boyband print

It was just me in that room

I find myself dazing into the memory of you

Of the rare moments when you sunk your eyes into mine

When I felt the entire ocean moving inside of them

Waving, sending stirring rays of electricity

Waving, like your hay-gold hair

Then I remember you kissed somebody else

I even got to watch it

And my world of pink and red fell to the ground like glass

And I didn't want to pick it up

I left it there for all to watch

To judge

To scare off

I'm not lazy, I have just given up

I’m in a swamp

I can’t see my feet

I’m in a fog

My hands are gone

Every step feels nonexisting

Questions are whispered in my ear

Where are you going?

My purpose is right over there

See?

Why aren’t you reaching for it?

Your tears suit your face

Like wet painting on canvas

Accessory au natural

Coloured by emotions

Vulnerability is beauty

"Different strokes for different folks"

- Prince

This quote makes me confident in my music taste, whenever people disagree with me. I take it as lightly and laidback as Prince:

When we both wanted it so deeply

And I couldn't take my eyes off of you

How quickly it changed

As the weather in northern France

Now we get to see

How ugly love can be

I don't understand how we could cause so much pain

That's when we cried ourselves a hurricane