10:39

insight thirty
i stare at the gloomy reflection on my wall, the tired under-eyes growing dark with fatigue, messy hair shoved up in a half-hearted bun, not even attempting to reach on the desk for my brush. want, desire, need; the longing for that one close hug that would lift every cloud that covers my happiness, that one scent of love that can send me into an uncontrollable high of calm and emotion - feeling something other than sadness. nothing happened, just the blissful silence of a plane soaring through the sky, just the slow crinkle of my bed sheet as i let my arms go limp, still holding onto the corners i was ruffling.  more tears run down my pale cheeks as all the built up misery bursts out into the open privacy of my bedroom, no reason just the constant weight of melancholy grief that remains, making every day the same. than me, every other person had it worse - is that what makes my thoughts so unwanted and repetitive? to die is too straight forward, too easy yet full of thought, every word written in that note has to be a memorable letter than spells out all the things i should have said but never would of been understood by the people i should have trusted to tell. disappear in the unknown, run the furthest beach or take a train to somewhere picked from a hat, just leave and not be known where, why, or not know yourself where you are going. forever the unplanned break downs and indented walls will stay, but i shall not- i need to pick what i dream and what i make real.

👽