Times | buriedinwords

3.50am, Aug. 10, 2017

I hate that you call it a "phase"

like I could so easily

fall through

and appear well on the other side.

As if walking through walls

could be so simple.

So then tell me why

I cannot just

phase out of this body,

pack my things and

move out of this brain.

If it is only a phase,

then that should be easy enough,

you are prone to thinking.

4.50am, Aug. 30, 2018

No matter what, I was

unable to sleep.

Unable to dream, I thought

I might be going mad.

How strange night is, and I

should probably sleep,

but my head is thick as fog.

10.32pm, Jan. 27, 2018

Was I a coward for not

looking you in the eye?

Am I just satisfying myself

with this relationship?

I had to wonder

"What do you think of me?"

I'd say we're close,

and I don't need to have

this kind of discussion.

But I am in need

of so much validation

because I wonder about

these types of things.

2am, Feb. 12, 2020

I find it so strange that I

get most sentimental

in the overnight hours.

I begin missing you

more than I could ever imagine.

4.54am, Feb. 4, 2020

A day without cutting is a good day.

A year without it might be even better.

Maybe it was not a good year, but

every day was good, somehow.

2.34am, Feb. 10, 2018

I think what happened has stressed me out more

than I cared to admit.

You asked if I was okay, and though I said yes,

I'm realizing maybe I wasn't.

You said "I can't tell you how to feel,"

and just left it there.

I figured I could bear with it

but with no clear answer, I'm not sure what to do.

You may think you're being considerate. However,

this isn't just about me.

It's about you, too.

Your feelings matter.

Yes, maybe "I don't know" will suffice,

but only for so long.

There is a certain type of closure only accomplished

by both parties coming to a mutual agreement,

with no loose ends.

So I ask you to

seriously

consider your own feelings.

You already know mine.

5.07pm, Sept. 29, 2019

I carry a knife on me regularly, now.

Whether it be for self-defense or self-harm, I'm not sure.

Sometimes self destruction is my preferred alias.

Letting things go is easy.

Letting things go is hard.

I suppose I don't know how to do either.

3pm, Sept. 27, 2019

Sometimes I don't want to move.

I mean to say, I crawl,

I get around without purpose.

Sometimes I do not think I'm living,

Only functioning.

I don't feel hunger, nor thirst,

Or maybe it's the sleep deprivation

And I feel deprived of what I cannot name.

Some days I know that

I never really wanted to do all that,

All the things I said I'd help people with.

I took it on out of enthusiasm for the moment,

But days come I regret that fleeting feeling.

I've been warned of burnout, but

I always feel like the energy won't run out

Until it does, and I pass out for half a day.

There are more words I think I could use,

But I'm too exhausted to think of them right now.

It's a bit shameful, no?

It's not really living, just functioning.

And even that feels shameful.

12.45am, Mar. 21, 2019

Thou who art my lover,

this strange destruction remains

between us.

It is in fleeting adoration that

our prose matches out actions.

Love, ours is a contained abuse,

and we play along.

...but was I the mistake?

i don't know the answer anymore.

i try to breathe out the black mist,

force out the toxins.

But when i stare at my knife,

i think, "i kind of miss this."

5.05pm, Sept. 27, 2019

How do we casually think about suicide?

What is casual about death? Maybe we

Are desensitized because

It happens every day

And in everything we see.

Even the small things...

We especially disregard the small things.

It is a strange phenomenon,

To mourn the life of a creature dying in your arms,

But be so inescapably removed from

Forests burning, and chittering

About a human flung off a building.

There is a theory that humans are anarchists,

That we are violent nature;

It holds together more than we'd like to admit.

"The call of the void" is where the brain, when faced with hardship,

Would rather make the strongest decision it can.

For example, ending the body's life.

I find it strange and relatable

To understand the feeling of giving up,

Because our control decides that not doing something is easier.

Perhaps that's why wr

Skip meals and rest when we think

It will not benefit our time.

It turns off the senses that are bothersome.

How normally dangerous, for

We must reach our breaking point for our bodies to decide

It might be a good idea to live.

10.39pm, May 23, 2020

I had a strange thought:

Eating peanut butter, watching YouTube

and thinking about self harm.

I've done that.

I've done it before, but

replace the peanut butter with cake.

I felt it should be a weird situation,

a combination you wouldn't normally group together.

But here we are.

Videos about depression:

the incredible words of poets that can

make something undeniably hard to explain

fascinatingly crystal clear.

You'll see in the comments how those words

move people who have become numb to their immediate surroundings

and the endless psa's of statistics and

"Help is out there, you need only ask."

But from those poets onstage who

connect with those souls,

I think it comes from being honest,

but maintaining the elegance that

other humans can appreciate.

It's a fun experiment,

making beautiful of raw, visceral feelings

that are secretly taboo.

Society's majority would deny it,

though who am I to judge?

For people to feel alone in being alone,

such a paradox is baffling.

How did we get here?

Is it because we learn too young? I only knew of self harm

after my elementary year watched a video

about bullying and suicide prevention, and other outlets.

I was 12 years old, in 6th grade.

Sure, they were warnings, but

Do children normally regard what not to do?

So as my mind again wandered to eating peanut butter and

idly considering mental illness,

I thought maybe this situation

is not so unique after all.

11.35am, Mar. 4, 2019

Interesting, how little we are.

The world's scope is of out precepts,

Yet we so easily become lost

In merely our minds.

1.28.am, Aug. 5, 2019

I was scrolling through old photos

and my eyes always rested on you.

Looking at the recent pictures, I

had an embarrassing thought.

Physically, mentally, emotionally,

you have changed.

When I thought of our relationship,

it is a platonic love we share,

but I tend to be more forward.

To you who I think of in the morning hours:

"Above all others, you are my everything."

2.45am, Dec. 19, 2019

What is this life to you?

Wasting away your time.

Too damn scared to move.

And you don't hear yourself cry.

What are you waiting for?

What are the answers you seek?

To be only human

Tour thoughts have got so bleak.

So tired and restless, it's getting you down

But you can't rest yet.

You don't want to drown.

1.32am, Feb. 24, 2020

Perhaps I am strange, but I want to know how the painful things feel. I don't know how to relate to many personal things of romance, so even if it hurts, I want to understand it. I want to fall in love, and fall out of love. I want to feel all the raw emotions of ecstasy, the devastation of love breaking apart, and properly walk the lonely road of recovery. Not to say I have not lost close-as-love friendships, but for someone who has not had to fight the wars afflicting such battered hearts, I do believe I could benefit.

I speak of a specific kind of love, however. I'll do without experiencing the abusive kind, but if a love could be so true, and visceral, and passionate, and by the end, memorable in all the right ways, I want that. I want to find growth by clawing my way out of loss, to write scriptures and symphonies of every incredible moment. I want a love that will recolor my entire world into some alternate dimension I could have never imagine, and for the memories to be wonderfully surreal. If I am to dream about the past, I want to relive the hard times, to make better character choices so I can actually make those same choices in reality. I want to experience the bad to I know how to achieve the good. Regret is an interesting motivator to tread carefully, but I often fling myself into the pyre because I want to absorb everything this life seems worthy of me.

So I will be a little selfish and ask the universe for the greatest loves, even if I am not meant to keep them. They will fortify my foundations and allow me introspection I cannot attain, currently. Perhaps I am crazy for desiring heartbreak, but I tend to learn the hard way, and I would rather burn an unforgettable time into my heart, than to love shallowly.

2.30am, Dec. 8, 2021

"I think I inflict insecurity on myself, which is too often unfounded... But I wonder if it is because I want you to recognize how much I want to hold you. It leaves me tongue-tied and frightened, this odd force that makes me feel as if I physically cannot speak the words I need, to you. Perhaps it is because I am scared. I have mentioned that you always surprise me... You don't get upset, you don't yell. You do not react how I have learned to expect from examples around me. Humans are scared of the unknown, so I suppose in a way, I am scared of your unknown. Not scared of you as a person, but anxious that I will eventually trigger some annoyance that is worse than anger. I tread very cautiously, always, even though straightforward honesty is my principle. I am nervous to alienate you. To ask questions that may be so childish that we both question my own sense of self... But like that child, I am deeply yearning for that validation. So please, remain this strange unknown. Be gentle, be soft, please do not abandon me. I will work on getting better. I already have started to change so many things. But please continue being patient, let me take my time. I need to love myself as deeply and intimately as I feel for you, but I have yet to trust myself with that task, either. I know I am not easy to like, as I'm sure you know. I'm off in the clouds half the time, seeking escapism. But I really want to stay by your side, at least for now. I just have so many worries I know not how to rest..."