It's good,
To wake up and,
Know that there is a place here,
Where I can be me, you can be you, and we can do it as one.

this wasn't our first time
at the waffle house
sitting across from each other
staring out the window
at fading car lights,
astigmatism placebo running rampant
(or maybe just greasy windows).
  this wasn't our first talk
about you wanting to die
sometime late at night,
we talked for hours
the week before this,
tears, sweat, and trembling lips.
  this was our first meal
we shared together at night
after hopeless thoughts
in late december
before your brother's wedding.
  this wasn't the last time
we'd see each other again,
or order the fully loaded hashbrowns,
or talk about suicide,
that would come in time.
  this is the first time
I've thought about this memory
and have been grateful for your marriage
and how far you've come
from eating garbage at 2am,
from wearing the punisher hoodie I gave you,
from drinking mike's hard lemonade,
from feeling lonely and hopeless
and wanting to end your life.

Meditation, meditation
Meant to be healthy vibration,
Diving deep into the now
Losing every form somehow.

Feeling guilty
I neglected
My long meditations.

Feeling overwhelmed
Many tasks
In my head.

I am now avoiding
My own self-
Confronting.

Wanting peace
Still.
To know how I feel.

I am myself but
Ugly.
And maybe that's
Why I feel sick.

Sick of playing some role
To everyone around me.

"You're so beautiful, nice."
"You're an angel", they say.

But they don't know that I
Struggle every day.

I should be so grateful
For my physical health.
So thanks.

But I am disappointed
By having panic attacks.

Breathing gets very shallow,
Sometimes I lose control,
In my mind many thoughts,
I feel lost and alone.

Hundreds pieces
Are called Me.
But who manages it all?

Sometimes I want to hide
In a warm dark safe place
Where nobody sees me
And I don't need to be
Anyone.

I don't need to play
Any role.

I can call this place
My home.

I can feel whole
On my own.

Where I hold myself
When I am worried.

And I tell myself
Different stories.

Where I truly believe
In love.

Where I feel
As though I was enough.

I wonder why melancholy
paints my soul a deep red
when midnight strikes,
And the colors on the clock change.
The firecrackers make noise,
And the world transitions
From one year to the next.
I wonder why nostalgia engulfs
the chaos of my winds
When time passes away slowly
On New Year's Eve.
I wonder how I could ever
Say gracias
To all those people who
Taught me, hugged me and
gave me the strength to live and love,
For my family and friends I am grateful.
I wonder why melancholy
paints my soul a deep red
When midnight strikes.
In this ever-present grief of how
Time passes away so quickly,
I reside, I reside.
I wonder why red fades
And green blossoms.
It is the way of life.