There's a void in me I can't avoid.  An inevitable emptiness.  Akin to sadness. A kind of apathy. A constant struggle of finding me. I yearn for relief. A kind of satisfaction. To find direction in the void. 

The winter has passed. The clump of thorns in my chest has turned a new leaf. A new beginning is here, and the roses are blooming. The stigma of a flower no longer bothers me. True love, mystery, innocence or purity are all parts that are pretty.

I constantly think about what I should be doing in my life. I'm hopelessly lost and chronically worried. I don't want my life to just waste away. 

The more I do it, the more starting to realize that there's nothing extraordinary about it. It's ordinary and mundane. 

I have nothing in my life I'm excited about at the moment. I feel selfish for making such a statement because I have lived a very blessed life, but my every day has been so uninspiring. 

There is happiness in forgiveness and joy in letting go—the duality. Your palm is not just a place where failures and heartbreak depart. It is also a landing pad for opportunity and love. Open your hands for greater joy to come. Open your mind to change. 

To be truthful, I like making sure you are doing okay from time to time. However, I'm no longer interested in the idea that we are partners in any life or that souls are bound. You've made me realize how conditional your love is. In the most unthreatening way, I'm gone completely. You will never see me and never have my favour or my love. In your paradise, I will not exist; it can reassemble me in every way, but that will not be me. 

Life is so quiet right now. Everyone is doing their own thing, and I guess I should, too. 

The sooner you realize that you hold yourself back, the sooner you will make people regret they ever doubted or shamed you. I will show you all just how capable and successful I can be. I'm scared when I'm driven. 

I'm frozen in time. My body and mind are in the dead of winter.  Yours, in the singing of birds and children's laughter.  I'm frozen in time. 

Sometimes, I wonder if I was ever my own person. I feel like a gallery of unrealistic ideals painted with people's darkness. I feel like a canvas muddied by all the strokes of life. In my stubbornness or ignorance, I hold onto each shade because I would be lonely if I didn't. 

For a long time, loving myself only made sense when I knew you loved me too. I realized just how sad that was. I have watered everything with forgiveness; now, I can only hope I grow stronger. 

It's frequent, and it's painful. I hate my suffering. This is all I can do. 

I feel like I'm wasting away. Just an irrelevant nothing. It always feels like I'm clawing onto success and happiness but it always slips away from me. I don't know what to do with my life. 

The beauty in existence is in our varying perspectives of the world. I think there's nothing more evil than bigotry. Where do we learn prejudice? Where do we learn that paradise is reserved for those in groupthink? I want to live a life free of preconceptions. A beginner's world. 

It's been quite a while now. I feel so much better. I thought about it for quite some time and finally realized that there was nothing to be done. In your eyes, you are free as can be, and in my mind, you are caged. Mutually inclusive opinions of each other, we see the world through two different lenses. I just had a hard accepting your point of view. It was never meant to work. My only job is to change myself, not to change you or anybody else. I'm happy now. I am happy with this. 

What makes a weak person? Is it a weakness to be authentically you? Is a strong person someone who represses parts of themselves in the name of externalities? I present myself in all my unpolished good, and I don't think I'm a weak or undeserving person for that. 

Little jabs to my heart. Why was erasing my existence your best option? In all my people-pleasing it was a personal hell; An endless cycle of shame, doubt, and guilt. I questioned everything I am and everything I do. I forgot who I was.

You are a planet killer.  On impact, everything ceases to exist. The damage was catastrophic, with no room for a new cycle of life. That leaves me in question, Why, after so much, does it get so quiet. Parts of me persist.

I just feel so absolutely depleted. In all my explosive joys, it was creeping up on me. It grabbed me by the ankles, and I fell hard on my face. 

I hate the idea that I'm some sort of tribulation set out to you by some greater being and that by conquering me, you'll be promised paradise. Hiding under the guise of righteousness, harming me is just acting under your self-interests. How is that Godly? It's very wrong in my eyes. 

The day I denounce my identity for the sake of religion and loyalty, that's the day my soul dies. I think that's the worst kind of hell.  

The moment when I think I'm feeling better, it all collapses. Like a black hole in the center of my mind pulling in all of what makes me hurt. Pulling in all of you.