From That Dream Last Night

The road was too narrow


We were all going too fast

So many bodies

I will never see marshmallows the way I used to again.


Frustration Festers

I am so frustrated.

Why is this treatment different?

I hate this.

But I cannot complain.

I don’t dare.

If I was to speak up, would anyone listen?

I doubt it.

The last time I spoke up, I was accused of being an attention seeker, a puddle-glum.

No one wants to know about your pain, your frustrations, your worries, your concerns.

No one wants to be burdened with that.

Why would you expect anyone to care?

See, this is why I give up.

This is why I stop trying.

No one wants to understand.

They just want me to go away, to disappear, so they can ignore me.

It is too much to ask, for people to care.

Just give up.

Stop trying.

Stop speaking up.

Shut up.


Author’s note: In today’s society, our feelings are important. We care about how people feel but when it seems to run deeper than the skin, deeper than the heart on the sleeve, we stop caring. We don’t want to hear it. People joke about wanting to die all the time. That’s acceptable. But if a person is serious, wants to talk about it people get scared, say something like “you need help” but never do anything to help. The minute a person is depressed, people say things like “it gets better”, “it can’t be that bad”, or “you’ll get over it”. And I want to shake these people. No matter how dark, how deep your feelings go, they matter. Some of battle more or stronger demons than others. There is no shame in that. There should be no shame in that. Anyone who thinks there is, I consider narrow minded and selfish. The world is too small and life too short to spend it ignoring those who need us and shaming each other. Support one another. Be strong for each other.

Help Them Understand

You should explain yourself.

You should help them understand you.

You try your best, in your own way to show them who you are.


These suggestions sear my heart, entrusting it pain I thought I would never feel again. These suggestions are ignorant advice, as good as if uttered by a deaf person who never heard the tale in the first place.

Why should I explain myself when doing so is merely explaining a part of me they do not believe exists?

Why should I help them understand when they have never bothered to understand at all?

And why?


Why should I show them who I am when all this time, all this time, I have been showing my colors, flapping in the wind, bleeding over the walls and not once, not once have they feigned to notice?

Why should I waste my time with such a failed endeavor only to be trampled again, like last time and the time before that…and the time before that…


You help them understand.

You show them who I am. You explain me.

Or maybe you can’t…


You can’t…

Because all this time…all this time…

You, you too have been hanging over the railing, craning your neck at some distant speck.

All the while, I stood beside you, waiting.

Patiently, WAITING. Waiting for you to notice who I am, to understand me, to see me.

After all these attempts to show you and…nothing…

You have nothing to say but that.

Help them understand.

Explain myself.

Show them who I am.

What in the name of God have I been doing all this damn time?

What a fool.

This person I hesitate to call ‘myself’ is such a fool.

That’s Nice, They Say

I woke up today.

That’s nice, they say.

I ate food today.

I got dressed today.

I left the house today.

I talked to someone today.

I did something for myself today.

I didn’t sleep all day today.

I went to work today.

I didn’t feel sad today.

I didn’t cry today.

I didn’t feel empty today.

I didn’t feel guilty today.

I didn’t jump today.

I didn’t walk in front of moving traffic today.

I didn’t die today.

That’s nice…

They say…

Looking In

Dear You,

 I love You.

I watch You.

I watch Your life play like a movie.

It’s black and white though. I don’t get to see the color, because I am looking in.

Looking in at the happiness, the pain, the triumphs, the lessons.

Not a part of it.

Looking in.

A stranger.

You don’t know me. You don’t notice me. In fact, You can’t see me.

I don’t really exist.

Not without You.

So, here I am, trapped in this endless freescape, wandering, but always watching.

I see You smile and I want You to smile at me.

I hear You laugh and I wish it was for me.

I should go away, disappear.

What a waste of time, pining away like this.

You are so blind, so blissful. I can never be free but You don’t care.

I like to imagine You would if You could. 

I keep seeing You come towards me as if You want to tell me something.

But then You pass through me and carry on. You never seem to notice the moment when we collide. 

I run ahead after each moment, but every time is the same.

I have reached a sort of epiphany.

I no longer have any hope.

You can never reach me because we never existed. 

How sad.

How very sad.

I look at You and I know You so well.

It’s a shame You will never know me as well as I know You.

I want everything for You. 

I want the world for You.

I hope You get all that and more.

Please, for my sake and for Your sake, be wise.

After all, there is only one You.

What You Have

Every time I see what you have, I’m reminded of what I don’t have.

That breaks my heart.

It’s not what I don’t have that makes me sad.

It’s the fact that in your happiness you don’t notice how unhappy I am.

But to be honest, I don’t want you to notice. 

If you did I think I would die. 

I couldn’t take it, living in my sadness knowing you knew.

I’d rather you were happy, blissfully. 

Just be happy.

Just be happy.

That’s all that matters to me.

I can’t choose between you and I. 

It’s too hard. 

I will always choose you. 


No matter what.

If you’re happy, even if I’m not, that’s what I live for.

It might seem selfless.

But maybe it’s actually selfish.

Maybe it’s because I am afraid to face my issues, my demons, the things that make me sad.


But I still love you.

More than you’ll ever know.

That little voice with all those suggestions

I hate that little voice.

The one that tells me I’m not enough.

The one that tells me I will never make it.

The one that tells me I don’t matter.

The one that tells me I should give up.

The one that tells me I should kill myself.

As long as I never listen…

I can overcome…

Who am I fooling?

No matter how soft.

No matter how quiet.

That voice.

Will always be there.




Kill yourself.








Love is on its Way

Such a lovely fortune.

Tempted to believe it’s a lie.

How could it be true if this life is damned with emptiness?

Isn’t love a lie?

An elixir concocted by some scheming mind who knew making a penny off a warm, fuzzy heart is easier than  coaxing candy from a baby.

That pedantic pronunciation of three little words which alone mean nothing.




I am selfish.

Love is a lie.

You are no one.

But wait…

Why must it be a lie?

Let a cookie say what it wants?

You alone are enough.

Even if I do not know your face yet.

Hurry, my dear, hurry to me.

The fires of hell stir ever nearer.


Circus act.

Nothing but the best for the ghost that stole my heart.


You think?

I am insane.

Love need not be, it just is.

You are everyone.


Caution to the wind.

There is no turning back.

Ease this steed of wonder onward.






We are plain.

We are love.