escapism

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one more hour of a video game.
one more hour of a television series.

 
one more hour of reading a novel.
one more hour of writing a meaningless poem.

 
the world is a very terrible place.
and i procrastinate for we’re all just passing time.

 
my inability to face reality is killing me. 
and i procrastinate for we’re all just passing time.

 
another drag from my cigarette.
another anti-anxiety pill to numb me from my misery.

 
another song. another daydream.
but after the temporary my dark thoughts destroy me.

 
i simply just want to get away from myself. 
but it all ends when i finally stop running away from myself.

 
i am more than just my temporary distractions.
i am more than just a daydreamer sleeping inside a rabbit hole.

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The Dreamer & The Traveler

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To me, love was about time.
To her, love was about adventure.

 

She would often bring me to places where we would gaze at the stars and laugh and cry about all our problems. I was the dreamer, and she was the traveler.

 

She didn’t know about my problem. There were days before I met her that I wouldn’t even leave the house for weeks for some unknown fear of judgment of the outside world. But all of that changed when I fell in love with her.

 

“Do you sometimes think that we’re all just passing time?” I asked her.
“What do you mean that we’re all just passing time?” she asked me back.

 

I don’t know, I replied. Like how every moment we feel is already memory. And we’re all just hurtling towards oblivion. Like none of it matters.

 

“Do you know why I love gazing at the stars so much?” she asked me.
“Why do you love gazing at the stars so much?” I asked her back.  

 

A million stars being so bright that I’m no longer afraid of the darkness of the night, she replied. Like there’s nothing in the world that I should fear. Not even loving you, she added.

 

And then I kissed her under a million twinkling stars that my fear of passing time began to melt away. At that moment I understood that forever could be measured in just a few seconds as her fear of the darkness began to melt away.

I Am Just A Dreamer

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I like to close my eyes sometimes and dream of the future.

 

I wake up one day, and I am mentally healthy. That I have won my battle against my mental illness. That things don’t bother me that much anymore. Like the butterfly effect, passing time, the number eight and thinking that I’m make-believe.

 

I wake up one day, and I just do the things that I do. I write the books that I want to write. I post the blog posts that I want to post. I run regularly under the deep blue sky while the sun shines on me like I am a flower that has survived wilting.

 

I wake up one day, and I’m just happy because I am healed, and I am living like it means something. I wake up one day, and I don’t even think about killing myself because life is full of possibilities that don’t scare me because every path in life is the right path. And if alternate realities exist then so what? That won’t stop me from trying to live this prime existence of mine fully.

 

I like to close my eyes sometimes and dream of the future. I like to open them not without a sense melancholy that I will eventually get better.

Take My Despair, I Want It Not

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Take my despair,
I want it not.

 
For I have learned 
to live one day at a time.

 
For I have learned 
to live without expectations.

 
So take my despair,
I want it not.

 
For I have finally learned
that nothing stays the same 
forever.

 
For I have finally learned 
that nothing is more powerful
than hope.

 
So take my despair,
I want it not.

A Page From My Book

I Am Beautiful

A page from my book “Confessions of a Wallflower” A poetry collection about depression, healing, and self-love. You can purchase your own copy here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1542396859 🌷🌷🌷