Survive

I became so addicted to the feeling of nothing
that when I started to feel you
I went through withdrawals.
I wanted so desperately to forget about
the nice feelings that ran through my mind
when I thought of you,
because I became so intimate with being alone
that leaving the vast isolation of myself behind
felt like I was killing the part of me
that taught me how to survive.

We try to love what cannot be tamed. Wild horses,

vodka in shapely bottles, angry men and the things
they carry. We have done what we could. They say
anything they can to justify leaving. That we are
always sad. That we have let our hearts burn out
for petty things. That we are too fragile. That we are to selfless.

That we are too dependent.

They accuse us of being too sad to love. 

We’re not sure where we’ve learned
this, to want the things we know we can’t have. 

Chances are,
we are all the same, riding high on velvet blue nights.
Our weaknesses have names and phone numbers,
addresses we can send letters to,
describing our love and poetry. We are praying for sixteen again,
for clear skin and boys
who asked for permission before holding our hands. They say
they can find us by our cheekbones, that they are
small, miraculous sources of light. 

Sometimes we’re safe
but usually we’re not. 

The crime scene tape
should have been our first clue.

2 am

Maybe, poets write because they have unstable feelings.
Maybe, poets write at 2am, in order to ease it.
Maybe, poets write to contain their feelings in it.
Maybe, poets write hopelessly.
Maybe, poets write at 2am hopelessly hoping, that, someone, on the other side of the earth is awake to read their poems. 
And maybe someone is awake,
And maybe, some do care.

Smile

Smile

like you have no

secrets

like you’ve

never been
left
never been
hurt
like the world
doesn't owe you a
single
wretched
thing.

Even from far away

you could see it

they were drunk

but not from any type of beverage.

they were drunk off each other

the way they laughed

the way they kept sneaking glances

they way they curled into each other

with a nervousness behind

subtle excitement

even from far away

you could see it

they found each other

utterly intoxicating

Goldfish.

"I know I have so much potential.

 I know that I'm made of stars and I'm a creation boundless, infinite in possibilities and flowing with privileges far above any other creature.

 But when I think about it all, I'm afraid.

I'm afraid that I'm gifted with so much and yet I cannot be everything in this this lifetime.

I'm afraid that with so much possibility I'd drown in the sea of expectations the world filled up for me to swim freely.

That I'd be this gold fish, suffocating underwater because the aquarium is much too large; that as I reach the other end, I have also reached my end.

I'm afraid that once my coffin is covered in dirt, someone in the crowd would whisper: "Who is she?"

But then, like a gold fish, I swim.

Fruitlessly, endlessly, irrationally.

Because that is the only thing I know now.

Blindly do I go on, thinking all the while: Will the goldfish ever do justice the constellations of stars she's made of?"

Have you?

Have you ever felt

A compelling urge
To hug somebody?
To just wrap your arms around them
And never let go?
You just want to drop everything
And hug that person,
Touch them,
Embrace them.
You just want to be near them.
Forever.
No talking.
Just hugging.
Because you seem to say more,
Have deeper discussions,
When you’re in each other’s arms
Then when conversing aloud.
That’s the kind of bond
I want to have with someone
Some day.
Because the simplest of things
Speak louder
Than any words
Ever will.

Self Harm #1

Some call it crazy
Some say it's sick
But I think it's freedom
The pain is fierce but quick
Some say that it's a sin
Just a little too risqué
But it helps release the pain
That I go through every day
The blade is sharp and cold
As it runs across my skin
Leaving me to ponder
How deep I cut in
The chill running  down my spine
Makes me feel at ease
I no longer feel like a coward
Fucking up with every breath I breathe
But some days I want to stop
Feeling like everything's wrong
Trying to let go of the blade
Sometimes I can but not for long
It;s like I'm addicted to the pain
The feeling taking refuge in my veins
Leaving me feeling confused and alone
Wiping at the tears that seem to be stained
Burned into my skin forever
Becoming a part that I cannot escape
Sometimes I just want to hurt all over
To scream at the top of my lungs 'til they break
I want to escape from my memories
They're taking over me
Why can't I just rest?
Why can't they let me be?
 
I just want to be free.

 ~ Just another old one ~ :)

FYI : I used to self harm, but now I'm clean since 1 year :) yay!! :) 

P.S. I will be posting a lot poems and posts based on self harm and depression. Stay tuned to check them :) Also don't forget to share and subscribe to by blog. 

Thanks! I hope you have a great day :) or well, night :p

P.S.S. If anyone of you ever want to talk regarding self harm or depression, I'm always here :) Feel free to contact me at iammissanonymous101@gmail.com , I will always reply :) 

Take Care

Be Strong

Much Love & XOXO

Dia :)

Some things are better left unsaid...

"Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed. She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to. She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three. Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap. Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her. You say: I dated her a while back. You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume. You say: She was younger than me. You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered. You say: It’s nothing now. You don’t say: But it was everything then."

 —Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid

~ Auriel H. ~

Death

it’s a quiet thing,
death is.
because no matter how loud you scream
how hard you cry
or if you slip away on your own
everyone around you grasping at your life
that falls like sand through their fingers
time moves on.
and i still can’t quite understand
how you can go from being everything
made up of stardust
and the remains of galaxies
to being nothing at all
and still life
moves on.

Death #2

Scariest thing is you don't know when its arriving,
Kills you more when you are thriving.

You are left scrounging for breath,
A tragedy like that of Macbeth.

You have few seconds left,
Bereft of loved ones.

Memories roll down the lane,
Except Mother Earth everyone looks at you in disdain.

Now you ain't called by your name,
You have lost your fame

Because in a shapeless flame, 

 death overcame.

~ Just another old poem ~

In life

In life we can not choose our beginning,
nor can we choose our end.
Our purpose is to make sure everything in between
is absolutely beautiful.
Something we are proud to say "that was my life
and I lived every single moment of it."

A Thief

‘I write’, I proclaim, arrogantly,
And proudly, because I create
And I mold words of my own
But under the arrogance and
The pride, and the facades
Lies a simple fear, one so small
That it should be buried under
The words I can spill out into
Patterns that please, and read
Like the insides of your head
But still it gnaws, and still stings
Because I’m scared of realisations
Dawning of the fact that I steal words
And expressions and feelings too and
Make them my own. The only problem
Here is that I steal from someone who
Can’t ever get them back because
She’s simply stealing from herself.

Universe

She painted stars
On her fingertips
And waited
For someone
To hold on
Long enough
To discover
The universes
They held.

She was the bird

She was the bird
And the cage
A dichotomy
Of identities
And directions
She pulled
And pushed
Herself into
Webs, spun
Of dreams
And beliefs
She called
Her own
And yet
They weren't.

Talking

They sit
And talk
But don't
For all
I hear
And see
And feel
Is a tattoo
Of me
Me
And me
Where's the
Us
And where's the
You
Why do I
Just hear
Two people
Talking
With each
Other
But not
To?