Day #2:

A day where you sleep till 6 in the evening and carry on with your life. It's a blessing to have someone who checks up on you or gets worried if you're still okay, because you slept too much.

People talk about isolation and staying in the darkness of their room, but what would you do if no one checks up on you? Or if no one cared if you ate anything? What if your parents stopped saying anything to you? You sometimes think you want that, that's no freedom but loneliness. Even when you think you don't want certain things in your life, you do, you still need them, that's exactly what that completes you.

What's your misery can be someone else's treasure.

It's time that I use Tumblr again as a diary.

Day 1:

I woke up with my brain hitting walls, I hardly sleep at night and waking up isn't the hardest part. As I wake up, the thoughts rush in, I try to control, it doesn't. I'm burdened by their heaviness, by the things that neither I can tell nor I can hide.

They say when you go out, put your problems and worries at home. But you take your misery with everywhere you go. How would you change your habits? What about your tired eyes and heavy steps? The redness around your eyes that only you seem notice?

But it isn't something to worry about if you're a person who cares about their public image, because no one sees you anyway. They all look at you, but no one sees you. The world is too big and cruel to wait for you, and it makes sense that people have already too much on their plate and all you can do is hope that someone will return the kindness you give.

I think of what I'm feeling as I write this down as recently my soul's really been out of town, maybe it went on a trip? Towards the big ocean in a big ship? Here I go writing metaphors.

But that can't be because I believe my soul is as small as me. It's afraid of big things, because bigger the things heavier the fall and even the thought of that fall is enough for me to lose control over my heart. The emotions I feel are so enormous, but I never express the intensity or their extent because the crazier I sound, so is that muse they'll feel.

Everything is so fucking directly proportional with yourself in terms of feelings, but with others the rules are so different.

If there's a biggest apology I owe to anyone, that's myself. It sickens me sometimes how my heart is heavy when I think about chaos made by others. But what about myself? What about all the possible ways I've been cruel to myself? What about all the times when something happened I believed I deserved it? I could've saved me. I could have been atleast a little kind to myself and the cruelty doesn't end here either, the hate I've for myself is I think how God felt about Lucifer. He was his favourite, he wanted to save him but you can't save someone who's so determined to doom themselves.

Sometimes I can not put in words how much I crave to be loved. I want to wake up with the feeling of knowing that someone is ready to be there for me when I say need them or when I need a hug or when I just want to put my head on their shoulder.

See, I don't want to have things like the moon or the stars, all I want is to hold someone's hand without thinking a second they'd mind it. I want to give all the love I have. I can't believe even after being torn apart several times I have this urge to love and ready to give all I have.

I may not have much to give, but I know how to give all I have.