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in this library, these words wait to be read. to me, they are silent until my eyes observe them. they all speak at the same time, surrounding me. but they are completely still. waiting to be read at any moment, they always welcome me. why so ready? depends on the intention of the writers, right? or are they for me to interpret however i choose to? somehow, i feel comforted to be surrounded in stories. i do not know what those writings are about, or if they were written poorly. it does not matter to me. a story is a story, is another home to me.

we had a short light-hearted conversation, but my chest aches. my teeth are bound together as if they are one row. i am trying so hard to learn how to not care, but the most i can do right now is be silent to you. at least i can be silent to you

i explain that i am in pain because of this household i’m living in, but honestly it’s not the household. my wooden bed holds me. my walls are comfortingly clothed in paintings. i am in pain because of my mother and father. i cry so hard that i vomit. every day heavier on my heart, over and over i argue with myself: i try to convince myself that it will be worth it to stay alive long enough to escape this household my parents.

she blindly followed his pathway of photographs. invisible to her, she was still aware of their important art and history. he patiently watched the butterflies glow on the new grass behind her, a safe place in the snow.

we rested in our blankets in the back of this truck. you gazed up at the moon, while i stared towards the east. i waited a long time for the sun to rise, and watched the sky slowly bloom like a watercolor painting. you saw the stars hide themselves one by one, they clothe themselves in the morn. on the ride home, you told me all about the night’s glory, and i told you about the rising of the sun. i will always need you.

during the daytime, i easily ignore my emotions and heartache. during the nighttime, i acknowledge my suffering and i sob for hours. but recently, i’ve started feeling so low even in the sun. the daytime was meant to be safe for me, a time of distraction, an escape! i just refuse to accept this, i must be happy in the sun. why does this matter so much to me? because i feel completely trapped and hopeless if i feel very heavy, low, empty during both the night and the day.

i planned to write of my suffering, but too many thoughts race in my mind all at once. tonight i cannot choose only one thought, understand my emotions about it, and then use pretty vocabulary to write and describe it.

i accept as time passes, to you i matter less and less, you do not have to admit it. if only i had the strength to be as silent as you, your feelings of obligation to speak to me would fade. i have loved you for so long, how are you able to keep me completely out of even the farthest thought in the back of your mind? i still think of you here and now. i still miss you here and now. i still love you here and now. i always will. i always always will.

whoever else is holding on for dear life to their one piece of far away hope, you are not alone. here i am, and i do the same.

any empty place, any place left in the past, any old rocks and bricks tells me it is my home and i know it is telling the truth. home does not have to be the place you live. homes hold the heartache, they do not create the heartache.

often at night, i bike fast as i can. my legs and lungs feel as if they are to fall apart. i close my eyes when i bike over the train tracks on that little hill, i imagine a train smacking into me, fast as its whistle. adrenaline first, pitch second.

their wedding is beautiful. a long time i waltzed with you tonight, our dresses are lovely, your face glows underneath these fairy lights and stars. i never knew how good it feels to move slowly with you. from now on, we should dance like this before bed sometimes.

i pull aside the curtain and watch below. most of those lights represents home and a person. and different memories are created in each room. i do not know any, but i pray for all the lights i see tonight. maybe someone sees my light, too. maybe someone prays to heal my suffering, too.

the moonless cloud-covered sky pours her ice cold air down into my lungs. she holds my face perfectly.

i force myself to not cry about the fact that my happiest memory was with you. i cling to the hope that i will make much happier memories even without you, as time goes by.

i filled the bathtub, hoping that if i kept my ears underwater, the house’s chaos would fade from my mind. i have bathed so long that the water cooled and my hair is stiff, but my unhappiness remains hot as ever

i sit here and calmly wish someone would shove me off this edge. my guilt is heavy and i am too cowardly to willingly fall. i need someone’s merciful push

as i walk on this beach, the weather feels too warm for my sweater. i would take it off but i am wearing nothing underneath. i could undress because nobody is here with me, but i do not want to make the ocean shy away...

all through the night, i have been mourning. now it is morning. are you too tired to hold me? i am too tired to reach out my arms.