burning riot

the only thing i am good at
is crying
and feeling things the rest of
the whole world
has a choice not to.

i spent last night in the
waiting room of a hopsital
asking the doctors
if my heart
if my heart
stained their white coats.

i believe in magic
and nonsensical things
which don’t have any logic
which doesn’t make sense
which must mean i am
good at recognizing mental illness
because ultimately i am only attracted
to the madness in people
who have less self control
than i ever will.

listen, doc, i know i shouldn’t
but i admire those people
who are so unabashed in their misery
it drives them crazy
because as much as i try to
i can never let go
of anything,
much less of
myself.

I wonder if all my favorite poets were also writing about small love, or if their experiences were something grand. I was the girl with curiosity coursing through her veins,and you were the boy with apathy in your blood. My heart was a rock in the garden. You were never brave enough to look underneath, and now I will never know what was there.
—  “Unmapped" by Brittney Melvin

Do not allow him to consume you. If he does not call, go to sleep. If he does not message, put your phone away and have a fantastic day anyway. If he acts distant when you are with him and refuses to tell you what is wrong, don’t wait for him, go home and do something you love. If he tries to insinuate you do not need your friends now that you have him, spend more time with your friends. If he tries to teach you a lesson through the silent treatment, ignore him completely.

If he plays with your feelings constantly, walk away from him. If he acts like your body is his entitlement when you are not ready, walk away from him. If he says terrible, unforgivable things and threatens to leave you after every argument, walk away from him. If he forbids you from doing anything you love, walk away from him. If he claims ownership of your accomplishments, walk away from him. If he demeans you or disrespects your being a girl and refuses to stop when you tell him it hurts, walk away from him.


I cannot stress this enough, you live for yourself first. He is a secondary character in the story of your life. Do not allow him to turn you into a secondary character in your own book.

—  Nikita Gill, Advice for Teenage Girls Finding Their Way Through Love.
I wonder if anyone really thinks about me. The kind of thinking where your thoughts wrecking ball their way through the usual barriers, you’re not really aware of why you’re thinking of that person, or maybe you are, but you don’t have time to care because before you know it they’ve already filled your head. Maybe I’ve crossed someone’s mind. Maybe they reread our texts in hopes of resurrecting our past, just for a moment. Maybe they smelled something like my cologne and couldn’t stop themselves from remembering me the whole day. Could I ever take up that much time and space?
—  Do you ever think about me, like I think about you? // Maxwell Diawuoh, Once A Day (360/366)

“What is a queen without her king?”


I don’t know, but let’s ask Cleopatra, Nefertiti, Hatshepsut, Sammuramat, Victoria, Elizabeth, Amina, Tzu-hsi and the countless other kingless queens who turned mere kingdoms into the greatest of Empires.

—  Nikita Gill
How strong you are, to go through Hell on Earth, and still smile and carry yourself like you’re in Heaven.
—  Your struggle will pay off someday. It might not be now, but it will get better. // Maxwell Diawuoh
Love me like love is more than just a word. Make it action, make it choice, make it commitment. Don’t try to be perfect. Don’t try to love me perfectly because you are not perfect and neither am I, some days we will crash and burn but it’s whether or not we escape from the wreckage that matters. So when we have those arguments that make peace seem like a distant memory, take the time you need to cool off but make sure you come back.
Motivate me. I’ve always been quite the dreamer, but some days the world gets the best of me. My body keeps moving but everything else feels dead, and everything including you feels further away than it should be. When that happens, pull me close. Tell me that you’re here, tell me that there’s more to live for, call it soul to soul resuscitation. Bring me back to you.
Don’t give up on understanding me. I know that on most days my mind is more like a really messy bedroom and finding sense in all of the chaos may prove to be difficult but please, don’t stop trying. Keep talking, keep asking questions, refuse to get tired. See, I know a lot of words. I know temporary. I know brief, short-lived, fleeting. I don’t quite get the word stay. It tastes weird on my tongue, probably because I’m more used to people doing the opposite. I guess that’s why I’m always prepared to write goodbye poems, and why I’ll be expecting you to leave once you see the person behind all of this poetry. Please, don’t go. Prove me wrong. Stay.
—  How I desire to be loved. // Maxwell Diawuoh, Once A Day (362/366)
Without knowing it, you stand outside of a door half open. I’m already on the other side. The word love is scrawled on the door in my handwriting. It couldn’t be yours because you haven’t confessed yet. If there is anything for you to confess at all, that is. I don’t know if you feel anything for me past this friendship we’ve spent so much time building. At the end of the day, you’ll either cross the threshold and start this new life with me or close the door before it can begin.
—  Please don’t close the door. // Maxwell Diawuoh, Request:  I am in love with my best friend but I don’t know if the feeling is mutual or it’s just me.
And maybe that’s what missing my childhood has been - not just a longing for when the world made less sense, but an implicit apology to my old self for the fact that I’ve been hurt and can never return to a time when I didn’t really know what that meant.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, Once A Day (363/366)
I have killed myself many times.

The part of me that hated myself was murdered yesterday. The version of me that was unkind and cruel was destroyed years ago. I replaced my angry hard heart with a soft one and switched the part of my brain that hated anyone off. And the part of me that insisted on my killing myself? I strangled it with my bare hands for trying to suggest that I did not have a place in or beauty to give to this world.

Yes, I have killed myself many times. But only the parts of myself that caused me damage, that caused others pain, that told me my life was not worth living.

The universe made no mistake by creating me. And it made no mistake by creating you either. Kill the version of you that tries to tell you it has. You deserve every moment of the previous gift of life you have been given.

—  Nikita Gill