Quarantine depression

by - March 21, 2020

"at least you can't hurt me like this,"


It's 8 am and the high is already clouding my mind, and no one would help me when my eyes go red.
I try to occupy my days with words that I grew so afraid to write. Because my words gravitate right back towards you and I can no longer bear the ache of longing for you.
I often wonder, do you miss me the way I do?
We often go round and around in the same cycle
And I hold myself back when all I really want is to dive deep.
I hold my words back and leave it collecting dust in the drafts only because I grew to realise just how exhausting my words can be, and how draining it is trying to understand me.
And so I stopped. I stopped trying to make people understand me. I stopped trying to invite them in. I stopped giving them chances to hurt me. 
I stopped trying to exist in their life.
It was easy to see whose words hold the truth. 
It was easy to see who could hurt me the most.
It was easy to drown myself along with the thoughts of them.
It's 8 in a Sunday morning and I'm high out of my mind. 
And I'm filled to the brim with so much unresolved pain of holding back so many unspoken words.

yours truly,
rosy cheeks.

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