Sorry To Break It To You But You Literally Have To Face Your Fears And Slaughter Them. Otherwise You

On some days, I feel this deep longing

For someone.

To be held, to feel my heartbeat

To feel the warmth of my body

Against someone.

On some nights, I sleep listening

To slow love songs.

Pretend that its raining outside

And wrap myself around

The warmth of a comforter and

Fall asleep

Pretending that I'm being loved by someone.

I don't know what is this urge of a human

To be loved so deeply,

That everything else seems insignificant.

Jeanette Winterson, from The PowerBook

“Please stop destroying what is left of your heart by constantly thinking about things that have broken you.”

— Unknown

Please, not always, let people love you, they should

Its so offensive to see other live the life you've prayed for. That feeling is so raw, like I see that there might be some god up there and he definitely has some favorites.

why do I feel so anxious

Andrea Gibson

heaviness.

this week i felt so heavily taxed it’s like i’m being robbed of something.

i don’t want to be here. i don’t want to be around anyone but a few, i don’t want to be perceived, i don’t want to be thought of. i don’t want the smiles from certain people because i don’t deserve them, i have fooled them with only a few actions they’ve seen of me and the surface that looks clean and flawless. that’s the thing— if only they knew me deeply would they maybe back the hell away, not smile as much, refuse to look me in the eye with such cordiality.

i am not even being cruel to myself. i am honesty right now. this heaviness weighs on my back like a load i can’t pretend isn’t there anymore. i look in the mirror and the reflection is so tired, so fed up. if only i could open the minds of people around me just to erase the memory of me from them and disappear somewhere. if only everyone forgot me for a second, and i had no trace of prior existence— a fresh start where i can begin newly again, where perhaps even i’d be known to myself as someone with less baggage, less of all the bad things that have happened to me and continue to happen under the surface which makes it all the more insidious and sickening. i am tired of myself. of the people who made me who i am today. i hope to get lighter. so much so that i fly away as if filled with helium, never to come back down on this wretched planet with its wretched people who see the worst in me and the deceived who see the best in me.

There's distractions and then the feeling slipping in between your ribs, and it doesn't go away It doesn't seem to have a cause or an end so you just keep yourself busy enough Enough to ignore it and sometimes forget it exists, then everyone goes home and you go home and it slips right back in between your ribs like it never left because it never did. Because there's nothing wrong Not with anything surrounding you, it's something broken inside of you, But I've never known how to fix that and at this point I don't think I ever will.

it always came down to this, since the very beginning of time but if we keep wanting it, we're told it's pathetic, by the time we act tough, it might be gone. fools.

E.E. Cummings, Complete Poems, 1904-1962