9 / 10 / 2016
Journal entry #2
Have you ever been submerged in turmoil that you feel as though you're one with the ongoing chaos.
This week has been a rocket ride of insomnia, weeping and textbooks i just cant seem to digest
It launched from my warm home
where my bones layed in rest against a childhood bed.
Where I drenched my tears on the same pillow I've cried on in every life changing event.
Pass the moon, where it's luminiscent light a cold reminder of him not coming back. Where I Covered my eyes with hope that he just might.
Bombarded by an asteroid belt of doubts, insecurities and regret. Each blow a knock to my self esteem and self worth.
And straight into a black hole of melancholy mixed with alcoholic drinks and late night breakdowns on the sixth floor of my apartment
Wherein the only thing beating the bitter cold was the warmth of the cigarrette between the fingers of my hand.
I've written on walls of glass reflecting my image.
writing for hope, writing for love
But with every stroke.
The letters started to bruise,
And the words started to cut,
Until the sentences bled.
Until i layed on the floor screaming.
But last night, walking through the streets of my homecity with cigarrete in hand.
I realized that
"you were never coming back"
That the alveoli in my lungs finally absorbed the toxic idea The idea of you being with someone else, that you'll grow old and be happy
"but just not with me"
My blood coursed with acceptance
and my heavy heart pumped with the words
"let go"
