Tired of Living

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And I am starting to learn that when someone says ‘I want to die’ it doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re holding a gun to their head, ready to jump from a forty story building or swallow the pills they’re hiding under the bed. ‘I want to die’ could be the same as ‘Look at me. I’m in so much pain. I’m failing my classes on purpose. It has been five days since I last took a shower and my breath smells like too much alcohol.’ ‘I want to die’ could be the very definition of ‘I don’t care about anything anymore, and I need someone to help me’ and of course you’d have to help them because they are tired of life or at the very least—send them to someone you know they can trust.

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A Funeral In My Heart

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Loneliness is having a party
in my mind again and that’s okay.

 
I am surrounded 
by souls.

 
Some treat me like
sunlight and some treat me like
moonlight.

 
I cry myself to sleep
and no one knows that the truth
about loneliness is that it protects
ones heart from everything but itself.

 
There’s a funeral in my heart, 
and the casket is too small for my
childish soul that screams ‘Let me out!’

 
I want to live without thinking
about who will miss me when I’m gone
because I’m tired of writing all these goodbye
letters that mean nothing without a recipient.

 
There’s a funeral in my heart
and there are no flowers because 
nobody wants to give flowers to a suicide.

 
I wish I can say sorry for being 
so selfish but that would mean apologizing
for the nights I’ve tried to hold it all together
like rebuilding Rome for a day—I have nothing to say.

 
There’s a funeral in my heart
and I am all alone here with the lights closed
because the window might glow and I am not light.

 
I am not light.

A Love That Always Feels Like Autumn

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The weather is getting cold
and she’s sitting near the furnace—

Reading sad books,
as she unties her tied shoelace.

A love that always feels like autumn—
is the feeling she always gave me.

Dead with the hope of being born again—
her kiss on my neck that drives me crazy.

The way she drinks her coffee
is one of the sexiest things I like to see.

The way she says my name
is the thing that convinces me that it’s meant to be.

A love that always feels like autumn—
is the feeling she always gave me.

Dead with the hope of being born again—
the taste of laughter in her mouth that makes her lovely.

August 9, 2018

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I understand actually, what it’s like to feel like the only way to understand the pain is to self-destruct. Real family or friends aren’t there all the time for me and most of the time loneliness consumes me when they’re nowhere to be found. That’s why there’s cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol because sometimes I don’t have that option that others have which is to reach out. But when I finally have the chance to talk to someone I don’t. I have a problem with trusting people, and I love sleeping pills too much.

June 6, 2018

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I wasn’t kind, but I wasn’t unkind either. I wasn’t anything I guess. I wasn’t anything to anyone at all. I was nothing, a sort of non-being and I just wanted to fall asleep during the day. I let my face drown in the darkness of the pillow and tried to think that it was already night. I was in so much hopelessness. I literally couldn’t walk. I had this body that I needed to clean, feed and control but just thinking about those things made me feel very tired.

I Am The Architect of My Own Destruction, page 25