I barely sleep these days.
And I say days because I’ve always been awake when the clock starts it’s daily tread through the a.m.
Nights are not for sleeping, I suppose.
And days are just for feeling tired.
The hours I do get, to disappear into the relief of my subconscious,
are few and far between.
Nights are for drowning in thoughts,
I suppose.
And days are just for feeling

Are you okay? Do you need a hug? Or someone to talk to?


Under the cut because I don’t wanna bother anyone with my problems lmao

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Just. Fuckin. I feel exactly as you feel. So get. In. My bed. And let’s. Cuddle. Fuck the universe it’s too big to deal with it’s own shit, and you’re so much better than I, you are a sparrow and I am a pigeon so let’s just feed on the birdseed that is life and fly away for a little while when it tastes like shit but never stop eating.
*i dont even know what happened with this metaphor i’m basically trying to say i love you and you’re life means a hell of a lot more than the shitty people and things that surround it*

Just because I smiled when I said
“I’m drowning.”, doesn’t mean
I was exaggerating.
Just because I laughed when I said
“It’s not long now.”, doesn’t mean
I was joking.
Just because I bled when I said
“I love you.”, doesn’t mean
I was lying.

Well here goes nothing
But that’s not exactly correct
For when people ask me what’s wrong
Or if they ask me if anything happened
I smile and reply that I’m fine
That it’s nothing
And I find that the lack of true communication is frightening
It’s like humans trying to connect are sound waves traveling molasses
Well get there eventually
But by the time we reach our target the event will have already transpired
And it will be too late
But I suppose that just highlights the problem
I am far too broken to fix it
Sometimes I lie in my bed at night
Curled up underneath the blankets
And when I search my mind for a reason I’m staying awake
All I find
Is nothing


'Breathing Underwater' Poetry Night

No one seems to notice.
You’re screaming,
trembling from the strain on your vocal chords,
convulsing in the deep.
Each fraction of the sound gets it’s
own perfect bubble; propelling itself
towards the surface.
Maybe someone will see the froth from your movements.
Maybe someone will catch some whisper, some remnant
of the sound,
and jump in to drag you out. But
no one will come
to save you,
because you can’t hear echoes
when you’re not in the water.

It surrounds you.
It all comes flooding in; whether slowly,
over time, or all at once.
Every crevice, every crack,
is just another hole for it to fill.
The pressure on your skull,
your limbs, your chest,
becomes too much.
Your ribs; they tighten,
they bruise,
they fracture, and then
they break.
what’s it like to drown in sadness?

'Breathing Underwater' Poetry Night

Gonna have a shower, then gonna write poems about drowning; oh, the irony.
*its not ironic at all, just moronic actually*

It’s getting harder and harder to go on.
I can’t breathe, with the pressure
to be something. Anything.
I can’t breathe, with the pressure
to be.

I never lose sleep over my enemies.
It’s my friends who keep me awake.

Live in the present, remember the past, and fear not the future, for it doesn’t exist and never shall. There is only now.
Christopher PaoliniEldest (via feellng)

please tell me that I’m not the only one whose compared high school to Deadman Wonderland