Silence.
We sit in stillness with our thoughts.
Conflicted.
Emotions running rampant.
High.
Out of control.
You were better- you were happy.
You were the man that I fell in love with again.
For that sweet everlasting second I saw a glimpse of that man.
If I had known I would’ve stopped.
For you.
But now that’s not something I can do.
Silence.
Uncertainty filling the air between our touch as we lay on opposite sides of the bed.
I see this shell looking back at me and my heart is sore.
Silence.
Saddened to see you like this.
I missed you for so long.
I’m sorry that I couldn’t-
Or wouldn’t, be strong.
I thought we could go back.
We can’t.
Silence.
Have you ever realized how it makes the air thick?
The anxiety that lingers like lint from the laundry.
How damp and humid it becomes?
Wondering who and when the other will spill their souls.
Silence.
I can’t even hear you breathe anymore.
Only the sound of my own shaky breath ticks the time away.
Holding back the tears.
Four years,
And silence is what sits between us.

She's an artist.

A painter to be exact.

Connecting darling dots along her veins.

She's an actress.

The Queen of little lies.

Her best performance is to herself, pretending everything's alright.

She's the guardian.

Stashing away all the pain.

She puts it in a box never to be touched again.

She's all alone.

She sits in heavy silence.

And never speaks a single word.

I'm addicted to happiness,
I wish it was my own,
I didn't leave,
When he asked me not to,
I only stayed,
Because I didn't want to.

caught up in the mix
sniffing out my fix
to feed these demons in my head
years of being spun
still I'm not dead

spinning on this endless ride
deep inside the real me hides
I deny the truth it hurts too much
I'm in love with my denial
it makes the sting of unfulfilled desires go away

I'm waiting for my ashes
to be dropped into the bay

wonder if I'll ever learn
this devil inside
is my only obstacle
like to blame instead
**** it, anyways
it's just in my head

a breathing corpse
is what I've become
my soul is dead

as I pretend to think
written in ink
cleverly disguised
all of my
senseless alibis

dreaming of the day
the good lord takes me away
life everlasting
sounds alright
as long as it's not
like these nights
lost in the drama of a user's a paranoia

I'm pulled down into the pit
this abyss of
demons
losers
users
criminals
of every sort
all completely consumed
by their disease

as we all slowly march to our destiny

prison, death, or mental ward
one way dead end
lifestyle
is what I've become
lie to myself
in self-pity delusions
ain't life grand?

lie to myself some more
life is such a bore
yeah yeah yeah

Open hands.
open eyes.
open ears.

Mindfulness, told me to care.
It didn't let me know how to deal -
how to deal when others don't.

Mother, Father, Brother, and Sister
everyone I've ever known,
how do you deal with the loss of feeling.

How does one cope without
an ear to the ground, an eye out for another,
and hands ready to pull people up out of their stupor.  

Yesterday, my cousin died.
I had no relationship with him
other than when people I know
talked about him going in out and jail.

I contacted all his brothers and sisters,
no one had spoken to him in years
and his overdose was met with a shrug.

He might have been the worst kind of person
and still here I am meeting his end
with confusion and unknowing
for why his life couldn't have been different.

Success is in my blood!

Just when I think I left the past behind,
My demons finally caught up to me.

Self-destructive tendencies,
Manic, mental, inability
To overcome this disease that plagues me.

It's cyclical,
It's haunting,
And it's exhausting.

I want to feel whole again.
I want to be happy.
I want to feel okay again.

I don't want to head down this road once more.

It seems I'm following a self-fulfilling prophecy,
Because all I seem to do is crave a substance,
That I know will only bring temporary happiness.

Dear Diary, I'm here to say,
I'm back once again, my thoughts in disarray.

I promise I'm trying.

I'm trying to overcome this years-long battle.

Dear Diary, I have to be honest with myself,
And honest with others,
Otherwise, what's to say I am trying to get better?

This writing is a testament, a statement,
A promise.

Dear Diary, this will be my last letter.