february 2nd, 2020

buried in the stone-cold silence. and i’m sorry if there was something i was supposed to do, something i was supposed to tell you. i’m a bit of a fucking mess right now, but i promise i still love you.

it’s just… sometimes the worst thing about anxiety is that i genuinely can’t tell what’s just my head and what’s actually the reality. 

and how did time manage to pass this quickly? because it feels like yesterday, that we were just kids, running around your back yard pretending for a while that we didn’t have mental illness. 

and it’ll hollow out my chest. it’ll carve out all my hope, and confidence, cut the power, turn off the wifi, slam the door. get it through your fucking head. you’re always going to be alone in here.

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i think the world is ending

naive goals, and follow your dreams. a hole punched in my stomach, and what do you mean?

high hopes, and stupid ideas for a life i’ll never lead. and if this planet is on fire, what does that say about me?

’cause honey. you can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me. and someday, you’re gonna be alone in this. your parents will kick you out of the house, your friends will dump you on the ground, and then i bet you’ll have loads of fun talking about how great it is to “recover” from this.

honestly. you’re being so fucking selfish. and young lady, i really mean it. your mind is a ticking time bomb, just waiting to implode. you’re not allowed to have dreams; it doesn’t matter where you’ll go.

didn’t your mom and dad tell you this, very long ago? you can’t conjure food and water out of nothing, you know. 

Oh god, have I been worrying about the future of late. I’m super tired right now so I don’t want to get into this topic in too much detail but basically: I have anxiety. And being a writer kind of has a bad reputation for not exactly being good at making money.

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avoidance strategies

if i don’t think about it, i won’t have to do anything about it, at least for tonight. and that’s enough for me, okay? just give me one more day, where i don’t have to be afraid of who i’ll become when i turn and face the light. 

if i don’t think about it, i’ll have just a little longer to hold the world in my hands, and let it stir in my chest. let it make me so scared it’s hard to breathe and did i ever not feel this exhausted?

and you see, my mind is feeling like an electric fence today. and every step forward i take is some kind of calamity, and today, my mind is endless pounding gravity, dragging me down, down, down, crushing hopes and dreams into a solid ball of matter until there’s nothing left i remember. 

today, my mind plays guard. and i am its prisoner.

Check out the spoken word version here. Find me on PatreonYouTubeInstagramWattpadTumblr, and on Twitter.


building castles, only to tear them down and start all over again. because it’s never perfect as it is in my head.

building kingdoms. sculpting blood, sweat, and tears, into the most beautiful portrait.  but no matter how hard i try, there’s always going to be something wrong with it.

and i’m so scared of messing up, that honestly to this day when faced with the possibility trying i would still rather stay in my room, hiding. because maybe you miss 100% of the goals you don’t shoot, but the rage of self-hatred i will give myself for failing is far worse of the vague guilt of sitting there and doing nothing.

and you’ll tell me you’re so proud of me, with tears in your eyes. and you’ll wrap your arms around me. and i won’t feel anything, except maybe in the most hidden corners of my mind.

but i’ll smile. and i’ll get up on stage, and wave at the crowd, ignoring the voices in my head even though they’re so fucking loud. and i’ll give this my everything. i’ll keep going through the storm… until i can’t do this anymore.

Check out the spoken word version here.

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i’m fine

golf ball in your throat. but swallow it down anyway, and take the pain the same way you take your morning medication, because whatever. you’re going to be fine in the end, and it’s not like your problems really matter.

so go ahead. tell them you’ll be fine. tell them there’s nothing they can do, but thanks for asking, all right?

even though you’re not all right.

because i don’t want help. i don’t want company. and i get it. you love me. but i don’t want you to save me from myself.

and i’m not fine. i know i’m not fine. i know we’re driving home, and i’m crying in the passenger’s side. but i don’t really want to talk about it. so can you do me a favour, and just pretend that i’m not even here? that everything is fine? 

because honestly, i just want to disappear tonight.

Oof, this is a super-cliche topic, but it’s still been something that’s been on my mind a lot. Normally, I’m actually really good at communicating what I’m going through. But of late, I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about keeping it to myself, and really slipping from my usual self. And to be honest, that is terrifying. So… I wrote a poem about it.

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