I know it’s tempting and I know its exciting. I know it gives you goosebumps and I know it also makes you feel alive. But you can’t keep playing with fire and expect not to get burnt, every single time. You can’t keep cutting yourself and expect not to see blood, every single time and you can’t rip your heart out of it’s prison cell and toss it to the wind, hoping someone would bring it back. You’re not invincible. You’re not fire proof. You can’t keep doing this over and over again. At some point, you’re going to have to choose yourself.
Like a pendulum
I watched my sanity swing back and forth
Hitting the four corners of these hypnotic white walls.
With each thud and each bang,
I heard it echo through the crevices and dark alleys of my mind
Passing whispers and taunts
Egging me to take one step closer to the dark.
I felt the last strings that held bits of me together,
break off and snap, as easily as I pictured my own neck would
on the nights when I saw my 10-year-old self
holding a doll in the corner, humming a tune I was no longer familiar with.
I wish I could hold on and stay for a little while longer
I wish cradling the past didn’t become a habit
I wish you were there for me.
Falling in love with you was like skinny dipping in winter
Falling in love with you was like
standing in the pouring rain
holding the key high enough
hoping to feel some sort of spark
some sort of electricity.
It was reckless
It was a suicide attempt.
Falling in love with you
was the only thing I felt good at.
– excerpts from a book I’ll never write.