a-poem-is

It’s not about finding someone who can make you happy; it’s about finding someone who can reflect all the good things about you, someone who can feel the same pain as you and still go through with it, someone who sees the bad things with you and still accepts you for who you really are.
—  Poets Love Her
FOR THOSE WHO STRUGGLE WITH ANXIETY… ITS OKAY.
—  It is perfectly okay for you to walk away from a situation that makes you feel uncomfortable and it is perfectly okay to take a break and have as much time as you need to recollect yourself and your thoughts. Taking care of yourself and your anxiety whenever needed is okay because you do not need any sort of validation from others when you are in a struggling state of panic because it is okay to not be okay. Nobody knows you better than yourself, and you’re the only one who knows your breaking points. So don’t let anybody boss you around and say “just get through it” Because there’s going to be arrogant people in this world who just don’t get it, who don’t get the hardships of anxiety and how it cripples people’s lives. Your illness deserves to be taken seriously and you have every right to do what’s best for you and your mental health. Anxiety is known as the silent illness, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer in silence. Just breathe and take a step back. You’ll be okay, because having anxiety is perfectly okay.
Soon, you will have wrinkles on your face with grey hair and a hand that is not mine, for you to hold. By then, you will probably forget the look on my face when I first met you, and the smile I wore whenever I had the chance to see you. Perhaps by then, my name is all you can remember, and I will be alright with that. At least, you still remember one thing about me, even if it happens to be almost nothing.
—  Lukas W. // Almost nothing
You were that feeling of waking up in the morning and for a moment, forgetting all that’s wrong in the world.
—  E. Grin

I am in-between a lot of things
In-between me and what I should of been
Mirror only, too sore for light
I am in-between places, hovering over cities, parks, hotelbedrooms, I think are familiar, but cannot remember
In a train, in a plane, the true in-between places
Mostly I am in-between feelings, like greyness, like fading memory, almost

Is this why I write?
Am I trying to stitch up the space between me and everything, with words?
How can I possibly believe that will work?

—  Knight - Can’t you say my name a little louder? 
That was all it took;
A blink, a breath,
And the world collapsed,
Spiraling,
Endless and lethal.
  
I had always known
That monsters
Walked among us,
I just never thought
They’d look like him.
—  poeticallyordinary