Fading Away

I wrote this 30 minutes into a very boring chemistry class, I was drowsy, sleepy, and not in my right mind. 

I had a dream. I dreamt that I was falling into a deep black endless abyss, I distinctly remember the puddles of terror exploding under my skin, i felt the coldness that embraced me, I felt the horror of not knowing, but I also felt alive, I felt human. my falling freed me of every human thought I’d had, it made me feel invincible and endless. I felt complete in every sense of the world, like forever, I felt like an endless sea of possibilities, and for a little while, I had a vision of myself achieving something, I felt grounded and weak in an aesthetically agonizing way. The rush of adrenaline effected me in ways I can’t describe, it felt like angels possessing me, like sugar invading every vessel of my body, it was everything I’d hoped my life would be, dangerous, scary, unpredictable and black. 

I spent the whole night reliving that dream over and over again, until it seemed real, and it was fucking beautiful.


Note To Self #1

This was written three years ago by my now 16 year old friend. I think that a world without poetry and art is a world nobody deserves to live in, enjoy.

Dedicated to my future self,
Do you ever take the time to think?

Do you ever start to wonder?

About the good old days,

When you were afraid of thunder.

The times you spent, all the moments you shared

How you were given attention, how you were loved, how people cared 

How you began to discover, that love was to please 

You never had to worry, everything was at ease 

Because being hurt only meant that bumps and bruises would cover your skin 

You never had to worry if you looked fat, normal, or thin

Words were never thrown like rocks, pushing you to be a fighter

To fight this competing life, just trying to knock it down 

And even when you try your best it never seems to get any brighter 

Beauty to you was when playgrounds were filled

Never was it the world telling you,

That you have a whole new life to build 

It meant the whole world to you, to see the look on your mother’s face 

You were looking for happiness, it wasn’t money you had to chase 

And when dawn goes down to day, you were hugged and embraced 

Joy was never trying to fit in, or that math test you aced 

It was being held by the hand, being told everything was okay

That nobody was going to leave you, that you’re loved ones are here to stay 

Just look at where you are now

Trying to rush to the finish line

It’s not negativity you’re brushing off
No, no, it’s love you’d decline

Please don’t tell me you don’t have time!

Who are you going to spend the rest of your life with?

Your books, or your career in this life ain’t worth a single dime 

It’s time to look at what really has value

The people you trust, the good ones who surround you

Don’t get me wrong cus I’m not talking about the ones you see on facebook

I’m talkin’ about reality, sitting together on your couch, looking through your old yearbook 

Cus you’re life doesn’t consist of mainly sitting on a desk 

Being humble just don’t work with being stressed

There’s nothing wrong with going out there and reliving it! 

There was a point in your life where everything was all good 

It wasn’t when you turned 18, or when you turned 21 

No my friend, it was your childhood 

So just pause for a minute, and be honest

Cus I bet you did think, and I bet you did wonder

About when you were content, about when you were younger 

I Love You

To the love of my life, to my everything -Dylan, I hope this gives you the closure that you need and deserve. 

I love you, I love you like Romeo did Juliet, maybe a little more, I love you like the moon loves the stars, I love you more than I do the sun, I love the way your hair flows beyond your jawline, I love the way it kisses your cheekbones, I love the way your orbs absorbs the love my eyes radiate, the way they light up at the mention of my name, I love having that effect on you, I do, I really do, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But it’s also the worst. I despise it, I despise the agonizing sobs that shake me when we part, I hate the nausea that overcomes me when I think of our maybe future, our have nots, I hate the overwhelming sense of regret that absorbs me at the remembrance of the moments we wasted debating the nature of our relationship. Love is gravity, it pulls you down, it expose you to the roughness of the surface, it opposes your being. The only demand is to fall, and maybe that’s why it breaks and shatters us. We respond to love by bending, by arching our posture and falling out of it is us grabbing a cane, it’s us standing up and resisiting its power. Maybe love isn’t meant to be, maybe it’s acceptance we are bound to have, maybe it’s care. You see all of the fore mentioned emotions are the aspects that make up love, individually, they make sense, together, they forge into a monstrous and vicious being. One that feeds off of the shards of everyone’s hearts, one that takes pleasure in implementing pain and introducing despair as a lifestyle. Not too long ago, I loved to love, I smiled at the aspect of having someone by my side, but now that I’m aware of my mortality, I realize that love holds us down, it ties us to a place, it hinders our ability to be, its a chain, one that I am struggling to rid myself of. 

i miss you with every cell that makes up the body that shelters my soul, I lost myself in you, I died a little on the inside, and I’d do it again if it meant I’d get to spend a few more minutes in your company. I hope you know that. Goodbye Dylan, goodbye.


Last updated: 11:15 pm, 11-5-2017 by me

Her hand shook as she extended it to make contact with his pale face. His skin was feverishly warm under her touch which only encouraged her further. Soon her hand was grazing the soft skin of his bare chest. Tears threatened to spill from her wide, penny-shaped eyes at his state, and her pathetic existence. This was her love, the only boy who’d been able to change her outlook on life, the only person who’d added to her life in a very long time, and here he was, lying on what might be his death bed, she hated the thought of him dying in a hospital, Leo deserved to die a more significant and honorable death, he deserved stars and bright colors, soft breezes and warm sunlight, he deserved hugs and kisses, he deserved the world, and she wasn’t able to give him his due, it was her fault. A new sensation bubbled within the depths of her chest, she shook with the sobs, she wailed and wailed his possible departure, and more tears escaped her eyes at the thought of her desertion. Nobody, nobody, would find it in them to love her after all that she’d done, all that she’d been through, she was too much, and he was the only one she had, what now? She thought more to herself than to him, her soft gaze traveled to his yellow face and she had a sudden urge to pull his feeding tube out, Leo isn’t hopeless, he doesn’t deserve the food supplements shoved into his lump of a body, he deserved creaminess and sweetness, he deserved every color of the rainbow and more. This was too much, Lola felt endangered, as if she was at risk of losing herself by staring at his lifeless face, but what did she have to complain about? Imagine what it felt like to be him? Was he aware of his condition? Of her presence? Of the love that tainted every word that escaped her chapped lips? She bit her lip hard enough for a thin stream of blood to escape to her mouth. The bland metallic taste brought her back to her reality. It was over. And she was to blame.

Was that a sunset or a sunrise?

This was written on the twenty fifth of October of 2015, a few weeks before my mom passed away.                                           

“Time goes by fast when you’re apathetic to everything that surrounds you. Everything is monotonous and rushed, insincere and cold, tedious and harsh. I wonder if life is worth enduring all the pain for, I wonder if withstanding all this bullshit is worth it.
I think a lot, I analyze everything I experience and everyone I encounter, I read to much into everything, I have what I like calling a monkey brain, jumping from one conclusion to the next, never at peace, this means countless sleepless nights and constant fatigue.

I just finished reading a book about alien abductions, and it got my brain going.

I hold a deep resentment for the conclusions people have drawn about self harm. I don’t think anyone self harms because they don’t think they’re worth it or because their faults outnumber their good traits. I’m not self destructive but I’ve had dangerous thoughts, and I think that if I were to cut or self harm I’d do it to honor all my invisible scars, they’d pose as a physical embodiment of all the pain and hurt that stains my frail heart. 

Which brings me to the next order of business; suicide. Everyone is all over depressed people, so many people are convinced that they’re helping by medicating them and drowning their worries with doses of serotonin, but here’s what I think. 

I think that depression isn’t a war you win, but a battle you fight everyday. There’s no pausing, there’s no stopping. suicide is you giving in to the mocking shrill voices scolding you and criticizing your every move.  It’s as persistent as the headache and nausea that follow a bottle of vodka wasted on drowning the memories secured in our past. I think that depression is black, it’s the complete absence of emotion, it’s numbness gnawing away at your brain and eventually driving you to irrational decisions, and I think that suicide is more than despair. The correct way to define it would be indifference, it’s when you’ve got nothing to live for and every reason to die, it’s when everything tastes bland, it’s hollow. It’s the monsters of our pasts haunting us. It’s the consistent need for the perfect peace of nothingness. That’s what I believe.

I’ve known a few people to be depressed, but I’ve never considered that I might be another unhappy resident wasting oxygen and consuming the edible goods available to me. Ive been told that we often project our feelings and find different ways of expressing them. Feelings of despair are often translated into the persistent attempts at making everyone else’s lives better. Maybe that’s me. Maybe I’m overthinking this. Whatever.”