Hell hell hell

Lately I've been thinking about killing myself more than even I'm used to, I've been hoarding reasons and hating myself more than usual and then I just ended up thinking why after so many attempts they all failed. I think I knew they would fail but didn't bother fixing the traps because maybe I didn't want. Now I've been thinking about why I don't just do it and I realized I will never be able to kill myself because I'll always be taunted by this think called hope that it just might get better. God how I actually do wish for the good things to come because I'm tired of waiting. It's always one good day every few months. That's hell. It's all hell. 

How to love your depressed lover

Last night I thought I kissed the loneliness from out your belly button. I thought I did, but later you sat up, all bones and restless hands, and told me there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo. I never know what to say to these things. “It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.” “Please don’t go away again.” Sometimes you are gone for days at a time and it is all I can do not to call the police, file a missing person’s report, even though you are right there, still sleeping next to me in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders. Except in this case I am the intruder and you are already locked up so tight that no one could possibly jimmy their way in. Last night I thought I gave you a reason not to be so sad when I held your body like a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason, all sensibility, all love. I know better now. I know what to say to the things you admit to me in the dark, all bones and restless hands. “It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.” “Please come back to me again.”

-Srjs

5:24 a.m.

To the one that loves him next, the sequel

He goes on walks when he feels messy. Tell him to stay with you but if he doesn't, tell him to be home in an hour so you know he's safe and tell him to be careful. When it's 3 a.m. and all you can think about is him tell him. Tell him that you think of him when no one else is looking. Tell him he is so handsome you'd like to sleep with the lights on. He's one of a kind. He's got fire in his eyes that looks purple around the edges.

Srjr

3:00 a.m. 

Dip in the past, influences of the present

When I was 14 I liked a boy and he liked me. We've been friends for a long time and I think it's safe to say that I fell in love with him a little. He would tell me that every time he looked at me the song MILK by THE 1975 would play in his head over and over again and he talked to me again a few nights ago. He talked to me and I felt nothing. Do not underestimate me, I will burn down the bridges between us if you hurt me enough times and feel no remorse nor will I be morose about it.
I like that song MILK. I like it even more because someone said it's like he's singing it about me. It's like you're automatically, beautifully immortalized if someone writes a song about you, for you or just sends it you; "Hey there, love. This song, it reminds me of you. Every time I listen to it I only think of you." I've had that two more times, with SETTLE DOWN by THE 1975 and MARDY BUM by ARCTIC MONKEYS. I felt like oblivion could never reach me, no matter ho hard it tried.
I live for moments like that in which you don't have to try to get someone to fall in love with you for you to be worth something to yourself but it just happens. And maybe it's not love but the fact that someone will remember you, like you mean something to that person and maybe, just maybe they will never forget you. And that's comforting. No one wants to be "just somebody that you used to know", no one. As much as most people hate to admit it, no one does.

Srjs

2:50 a.m.

What does it mean to care; to make someone feel important

I think people underestimate how much it means to people when you care, people like me, people who are people at all. I love it when people are interested and ask questions about anything really, like how my day was, ho I felt about what happened, if I miss someone at the moment. And if so what. I hate talking about myself, I won't lie there but I do like it when a person takes an authentic fascination with me. Like not in a creepy way just in a way that they like me, they want to get to know me. I've always tried my best to be interested in others and to care but it runs dry sometimes because I want people to care about me too. Not in the sense that they just say they do, in the sense that they don't need my permission to care, if I'm not feeling well they could surprise me with a white rose, or just anything. L I T E R A L L Y anything would do. A handwritten letter, those little cherry candies I like, QUESTIONS! About anything, the future, the past, the present. A N Y T H I N G.

Srjs

2:19 a.m.

P.S.

If you are bad with words you can always google things or not use words either.

Untitled: if you ever feel lost, let my words guide you home

"He was never suppose to mean this much to me, he was just some boy that I accidentally loved and I couldn't stop since then."

That was my diary entry a few years ago. It's still him, by the way.

To him:

Listen, just listen.
Life is a so called journey of unexpected and unfair and sometimes wonderful events.
There is no in between, no grey, no bittersweet, just these moments, these precise moments.
And right now life is unfair to you and I get that. And although life is filled with unfair moments
 -and you'll get your fair share of those- you have to understand that what people tell you about life being short and all those wonderful moments being rare is absolute bullshit.
Life is not short, life is the longest thing you will ever experience, there is just too much to do and no one ever really starts on time.
And maybe it's the period for unfairness and unkindness and unhappiness, it's the same time for me too. And although I know you won't kill yourself, I dont just want you to have that mentality, that like I don't want you to stay because you feel like you owe me that or something.
I want you to stay because there is still so much to come, I mean you're sixteen, sixteen, do you know how young that is? I know people who are 96 years old.
That is an 80 year difference.
That is a long way from you, so long away.
Now think of it this way, that is roughly 76 years of sleeping next to the love of your life and waking up right as the sun is peeking out of heaven and seeing them drool and pulling them closer and to watch them make breakfast for you and make a mess of it and getting random phone calls from them and surprise lunches with them at work with your favorite pastries even though it's not morning anymore. That is 76 more years of kisses and seeing them walk into a room that when you were 15 and you saw them walk into a room you thought your heart would beat out of your chest and into theirs but that doesn't happen anymore. Instead the air is lighter and calmer and so much easier to breathe when they are around. And they feel more like home than your mothers womb ever did and they're yours. They're all yours and you get 76 more years with them and maybe more if you're lucky.
And the kisses, you get a kiss for each occasion.
The "let me kiss you one more time before you go" kiss and the "god, you're all I've ever wanted" kiss and the "before you go to sleep" kiss and the "because you're so kind to animals" kiss.
And the "kiss me one last time before you go" kiss and the "I'm so glad I'm with you and not with someone else" kiss.
There's quick kisses in the aisles of the grocery store, when it's loud and you gravitate together, when instead of having your own personal space and their own personal space, it's both of yours together and you step into their chest to take up less area together.
There are so many things to look forward to.
Big things, the birth of your children.
Small things, car rides together in comfortable silence.
But there is always us to look forward to.
Always.

Love,

Srjs

11:30 p.m.

Dictionary

I found words, words you've probably never heard of but when you do you'll feel what I feel. You will know what I am.

I used to be a kalon. 

I was nothing more; not soul, nor mind, nor love or kindness. 

I was a wicked hurricane. 

I used to be external.

I would egrote, procrastinate, I would wish to get things done but lack the strength to fulfill it.

But not anymore, everyday I wake up ready to go anywhere as long as I can see you there.

Anywhere, even school.

I used to be a uhtceare.

It was endless, I had pills, so many tranquilizers when you were all I needed;

I am not cured, I still stay up some nights but you opiate this hazy head of mine.

I sleep most nights now

My innocence was taken from me long ago, but I have never been a apodyopsis until getting to know you. Until getting to know you from every angle. But I have fully stripped you. You cannot hide from my soul anymore.

I am a novaturient person now

. I want better things, a better life. You've made me want to live better, for you; I want to be better for you. For me too, but also for you.

I balter, but not with dance, with love. I love artlessly, but it's still love. It's all your love and I try.

I feel a certain fernweh for all of my favorite places, I want to take you to them, tell you the stories of them. Engross you with new memories there.

And although I will always be a nyctophilaic you were my light when the darkness was no longer comfortable and I will be forever grateful for you. 

You are my serendipity, you are my nepenthe; you make me feel better, happy even.

And I like touching you, cafuné-ing you, it makes it all so much more real.

I love you.

Srjs.

10:45 p.m.

If I could...

If I could I would get you all the freedom I could get you.
If I could I would take you for drives at 2 a.m. and avoid all the holes in the road so you could sleep better than in your own bed.
Baby, if I could would get you all the things you've ever wanted, all the stolen kisses and dances in the cold, endless rain and all the Macbook Pro's.
If I could I would cover your ears and your heart to all the bad things people say.
I would keep them from bruising your soul, baby, how I don't want anyone to bruise your soul.
You have the most beautiful soul.
I am so in love with you and if I could I would draw in in the sky.
I would pick out clouds and tell them to dance to the melody of how my heart beats for you.
If I could, darling, if I could I would love you even when there is no more love or air or sky or me.
But I will love you till the absolute end of me.
Till you and I are both dust and the reminder that we once roamed this earth has forgotten, I will always love you.

Love,

Srjs.

1:16 a.m.

Real talk

I think people doubt how insecure I am. Like I'm on tumblr I see all these girls and they're all so attractive and I'm nothing close to that and I cry sometimes. I worry when my boyfriend tells me he loves me without the "I" in front of it. I make a mess of it all honestly. And it's quite sad. 

Srjr

3:03 a.m. 

To the one that loves him next

To the one that loves him next:

He doesn't eat right after he wakes up, so don't surprise him with breakfast in bed. Instead just look at him while he sleeps, brush your fingers through his hair, it calms him down without anyone knowing. He twitches in his sleep so don't be alarmed. He doesn't like the time around his birthday so just play wake me up when September ends by green day. His sister comes first, always. 

He pretends to like art sometimes. Take this moment as an opportunity to remind him that he is art. 

Hold his thumbs when he's angry, you'll learn why. Don't just leave him when you are angry. 

Be patient with him. He'll hate himself often, remind him that he's only allowed to hate himself in your arms. 

Don't break him, don't try to fix him. He is no object to mend. He is everything that allows the air around you to feel lighter. This boy deserves galaxies. 

All galaxies. Even when he makes mistakes. Even when he cries. 

Srjs

6:08 p.m. 

Confessions; the first of many

I need school. I need it not because I want a good job and what not (yes I do want a good job and what not but that's not why I'm writing this post). I need it because it keeps my life together. I see my friends that way, I talk to people my own age that way. I shower, brush my hair and teeth that way. I sleep at night because of it. I would basically fall even more apart without it.  

I still fall apart either way because of it too. Like I have a shitload of anxiety with it and I don't think I'm smart and I'm sad because it's all so much and it makes me feel all so little. I still need it. 

Srjs 

2:38 p.m. 

Waiting

I am waiting on myself to be grand. Of course I'm doing my best to do great things but, it's always a little hard. 

I'm waiting to be full and happy and I'm waiting to do a lot of things. Be a lot of things. I am a mere teenager ad I've done quite much, though. 

I've basically travel the whole world. 

I've gone to a lot of places but I am still waiting for more. 

I want love, much love. I am waiting for change. I am waiting on death like everyone else. 

I don't like to wait. God I fucking hate waiting. Waiting on food, on people, in grades, on events. On happiness. 

I want so badly for more good things to come, because I've tasted it but I want it all to get here already. 

I don't want to die waiting. 

Srjs 

1:19 p.m. 

Just fuck me up

Just fuck me up, with your blank stares and hazy eyes. With your soft lips and white lies.
Man, just fuck me up like you did last time, and the time before that and the one before that.
Just fuck me up with your complexity and warmth. with your unconventionality and your dreaminess.
Just fuck me up because you're stubborn, right? Because you're somewhat determined to.
Just fuck me up, it'll be unbelievably easy because I'm already in love with you.
With your soft sounds and messy hair, with your dainty darkness.
Just fuck me up, quickly, because what you're doing is torture when you do it slowly and quietly.
Just fuck me up because you entice me, you fucking revive me in dangerous ways, but you also feel like home, just fuck me up already because I've found my resting place between your shoulders and neck and my god, it leaves me breathless in a calming manner, not alarming way.
Just fuck me up, because darling, you are everything I cannot put into words.

Srjr

2:24 a.m.

Introductions

Dear everyone,

I am very pretentious. I like to pretend to be able to eat with chopsticks and I like to think that I am a walking dictionary (which I kind of am, in my own odd, little way).

And it bothers me that there is so much sad in the world. 

I am no revolting hero, though, God, I'm even too scared to ask my mom to hang out with friends tonight and to be honest with you I'm glad that I didn't ask her because I enjoy the comfort of just being alone in my room, talking to my boyfriend on the phone and writing this.

I'm a terrible texter. And I don't like how there's always that red line underneath words that don't exist. As strange as it is, it pisses me off. 

I think icicles are magic; they are totally magic.

I think he's magic. Correction I KNOW he's magic.

I cry a lot, sadly. I actually cry way too much... I'm a fucking handful.

My brother used to tell me to stay away, stay far away, from people who tell me I'm hard to love but I know I'm very much hard to love.

But that's okay. And I am both happy and sad at the same time, although that is rather impossible.

But it's kind of the case.

Love,

Srjs

1:37 a.m.