It is no coincidence that a rattlesnake makes the same noise as a bottle of pills. I have seen my friends open their prescriptions as if it has just unhinged its jaw and is about to swallow them whole. When did growing up mean chasing drinks rather than chasing dreams because I can spend a whole day in bed and not once think about where I should be going and when I manage to drag myself out it is a question of how much therapy can you pay for sanity and is it worth it for my parents to empty their wallets so that I can spill my guts because at what point does a shell have to stop calling themselves human? I am so fucking tired of people telling me that there is room for improvement because I can scream into the hollowed out bits of myself and only hear echoes - when you tell me there is space to grow, I will show you that I am the grand canyon when you imagined me as a pothole and it would have been a lot easier to fill me with cement and walk all over me again. Somebody once told me that being bipolar was like trying to visit the opposite ends of the world at the exact same time - that the closer you got to where you want to go, the further you get from where you should have been in the first place and it is a matter of just standing still and letting the Earth do the spinning for you. But I have been trying to take steps and I swear to God if I hear that I am not moving fast enough that I can assure you my body is quicksand and it is enough that I have not completely sunk inside of myself. I do not have black eyes from the struggle, I do not have broken bones that let you know I have been fighting for my life, but I have my beating heart and the sunrise that tells me this is a new day and for now that is enough.
—  February 19th, 2017 (k.p.k)

your absence filled my
lungs with a weight so heavy
i couldn’t breathe. your
leaving threw bricks
into my chest and then
refused to leave.
your words hollowed out
the spaces between
my organs till they all lost
their uses. your love
was the thing that forgave
your excuses.

but now, when i exhale,
i know i’ve filtered you out.
and when my heart beats
it is strong, and steady,
and proud. i haven’t
heard your voice for a while
but i’m okay with that.
i loved you back then,
but i’m loving myself now.

—  // r.e.s
a graveyard of sorts
a tomb of the hopeless
a walking sarcophagus broken inside
the headstones reminders
of a fantasy future
contrasting reality, buried alive
splintering coffins
litter the ground
those whom were buried revived
they wander the graveyard
wreaking havoc inside
taking control of my mind
i had buried my demons
put down by name
i had left them no chance to survive
now drowned in my thoughts
a sea of the undead
instead it is me who has died
—  k.r.

this is the part where you let go.
where the pain in your heart
merges with the softness in your soul.
where a deep breathe takes you
from unsteady to okay.
where you start to find the path
that leads you the right way.

this is the part where you let go.
breathe in, breathe out.
start here.

—  starting point // r.e.s

this is me hoping we’re good.
but also maybe secretly hoping
that we can stop with the
pretending. that when your stomach
turns you’ll tell me and when my
heart starts to wither i can
let myself stop it.

this is me wanting to be okay again.
because it’s okay not to
but i know how to stop it this time.

this is me telling you i love you.
it’s okay that not everything
lasts, maybe it’s even a blessing. that
one day you’ll look up and realise
it’s been so long since you
remembered. that one day i’ll
sit down and know that i’m
okay with it.

—  this is me hoping // r.e.s

This is how it’s going to go.

You don’t know they exist. You are unaware that they are on this Earth. You wake up, you brush your teeth, you do whatever it takes to make it through the day, you lay in bed and play out fantasies of finally finding the right comeback when somebody is mean to you and the like, and then you sleep, and everything starts over again.

Then you meet them. You might know it right then, or you might not, but God, you are in love with them. It’s the little things. You keep checking your phone to see if they have messaged you. You find yourself having to read the same sentence three times because you were too busy wondering if they were thinking about you too. And when you do talk to them, it’s better than it even is in your head and the way they smile sticks your tongue to the top of your mouth. Maybe you’re too scared to hold eye contact for too long because they might see how you’re feeling, but looking away makes you feel weak and when the blush creeps up your neck onto your cheeks, it’s too warm and uncomfortable and you wish you had just kept looking at them instead.

You’re going to kiss them. The first kiss probably won’t be that good. You might both tilt your head to the right and then awkwardly both shift to the left to try to get the angle just perfect. There might be too much saliva involved and you quickly wipe your mouth against your sleeve the second they avert their eyes. Maybe your mouth will be too dry because you are nervous and all you can focus on is how quietly they kiss, like this moment between the two of you is a secret. Don’t worry. The first time will not be the best time, and even the best time will not be the best time, because each and every kiss will change as your feelings change. Love is a learning process, and you’re going to be fine.

This is how they’re going to go.

You’re going to open your eyes one day and your phone will have been silent since you plugged it in at night. You are going to roll over and realize that everywhere you are not laying feels like the cool side of the pillow. You’re going to shower alone for the first time in months. You forgot how much work it is to wash your hair. When you go on drives, you realize how bad you are at directions and finding where you are supposed to go. It’s the little things. Their laugh, that you thought was so funny and unique when you heard is, is suddenly the loudest noise at any crowded event you go to. It’s never going to be them, so stop straining your neck. You’re going to stop comparing their heart to the flowers you pass on your way to work in your head and you won’t even realize it. You are going stop waiting up until you are too tired to keep your eyes open. Love is a learning process. You’re going to be fine.

—  This is How You Lose Them (K.P.K)
He tells me to grow up as I shrivel under his fingers. He is salt and I am a slug and some other girl is licking him off of her hand before her fifth shot of tequila. He tells me he has had one foot out the door for the last month and I have been the person helping him tie his shoes to get him on his way, I have been the doormat that he’s needed to walk over one more time as he left. He tells me that there are ways to be happy and healthy, with a cigarette dangling from his lips and another clenched in his fist. But sometimes, he tells me, those two are not synonymous. Sometimes, having one means forfeiting the other. He tells me he’s always liked his scotch neat and that I have always been on the rocks, off the rails, a train tilting on the tracks, just begging for one last push. You’re too pretty to be this fucking high, he tells me, his sharp nails tracing my lip and I picture knives on a canvas. I loved you, he tells me, but you’re too fucking much.
—  JUNE 1ST (k.p.k)
Maybe it’s the time or the place or just us. The lack of communication or lack of trust. Maybe it’s just life throwing love under the bus. Maybe it’s just not now or not soon or not ever. Maybe two people aren’t meant to end up together. Maybe it’s not enough to just sleep with your sweater. Maybe it’s the distance or the longing or the lust. It could be anything but I think it’s just us.
I miss who I was before I met you. Every time I napped in your arms I left a part of my heart next to your lips on the pillow. Every time I woke up next to you I gave a part of my soul to the sunshine across your cheeks. Trying to remember who I was before you ever came into my life is trying to crawl into the skin of a stranger on the street, is trying to break into a home that is not my own to steal their belongings, is trying to become best friends with a person I have long since stopped talking to. I miss the person I was before I ever held your hands against my throat. I miss the person I was before I ever let your pulse beat against the scars on my body. I miss the person who never met you - because they would never have to miss you like I do.
—  I Hope You Never Read This (K.P.K)

When you go,
please take the 
fact that your 
favourite colour is
green because your
birthday is on
St. Patrick’s Day
out of my brain.
I will have no use
for it anymore.

Please remove 
the knowledge that
you wash your hands
every time you enter
a room because you
are terrified of getting 
This means nothing
to me anymore.

Please erase the memory
of each time you begged 
me to tuck you into bed
because your mother
always told you that 
the monsters steal
you by your toes.
I cannot protect 
you anymore.

When you go,
please don’t leave
any parts of you
here, as if they
still belong to me.

—  When you go - January 4th, 2016 (k.p.k)
I wonder why I can never take my own advice. How I can look at people like the sun shines out of them and then look at myself and wonder how I can hold so many storm clouds in my fists. The most terrifying thing about unhappiness is when it becomes an old friend. You hear it knock and you just let it in. I’m trying to think of these moods as old clothes these days. One day I’ll grow out of it. One day it won’t be mine anymore. One day I’ll look in the mirror and wonder how that could have even fit who I was once upon a time. But you can’t wait for that day to come like you’re sitting at the train station with your bags packed, ready to go as soon as it pulls up. Its like walking the same distance the train would go with the bags on your shoulders until you gain the strength to realize they aren’t heavy anymore.
—  K.P.K