You.

What do I do when I'm falling to pieces and the only person I want to put me back together again is somewhere on a distant planet living an entirely different life and has most likely forgotten that I'm not okay and I need them now more than ever.

Courage

It's not something that I usually have
See it has a tendency of hiding from me
And when the time comes for me to stand
Instead, I just sit there, cowardly

And I hope for the strength that you possess
But bravery can be such a hard thing to hold
Yet you guard it so firmly behind your eyes
Now how could I ever be that bold?

As I imagine you unafraid and alone
I look at myself and I don't want to think
Why is it I who is crumbling down
When I'm trying to float, but I'm starting to sink

Then I hear a voice say that it's killing you too
And I smile as I realise it's truth
And the courage I seek becomes mine to keep
As I think of the love of my youth

La Lutte

I'm still really struggling to come to terms with this concept.
This whole idea of 'being alone'.
No matter how hard I try to express it, I can't.
And I want to... I need to.... I just... I feel... It's like... It's not... But...
You.
Every thought ends the same way.

I'm really happy.
Sometimes.
And I don't think about you.
Sometimes.
I think I'll be fine.
Sometimes.
And I know this is over.
Sometimes.

My brain is numb, and empty, but so full to bursting.
I just know that it's caving in, getting ready to crush me.
I still just feel wrong, like this isn't happening.
Like I'm not doing something right.
Like you're still mine, really.

That night, I sat and stared.
I stared at that clock, hands frozen in time.
I am that clock, stuck forever at a quarter past three.
And you are the key, you alone have the ability to make me move again.
But I know, deep down, that you are not here, and it is I who must make myself live again.

But honestly, I don't know anything.
I couldn't possibly understand these theories of love and loss and loneliness and longing.
After spending hundreds upon hundreds of days under the blissful illusion that I knew what it was to be loved, I am still none the wiser.
I don't know how to love, or when, or why, or what. Even less who.

I cannot comprehend myself. My self. Myself, alone, without you.
I thrive on memories, because you are dead, and I am dead, and new faces have taken our places.
What hurts the most, is knowing we will never again live those lives.
We are a thing of the past, from another lifetime, and right now you seem so far away.
I fight to remember every aching moment, and ache for you to remember me.
For from this moment on, we do not know each other.
We do not know anything at all.

I am lost.
My heart is my compass.
And you are my map.
And the only thing that keeps me going,
Is knowing that one day, I'll find you again.

Fini

Things I'm going to miss:

Holding your pinky finger.
Resting my hand on the crease between your ribs and your hip.
Kissing your cheekbones.
Your hot chocolates.
Going to sleep with a smile on my face.
Waking up to cute words.
Nibbling your ear.
Rolling over in the middle of the night and spooning you.
Falling asleep in the hammock.
Playing with your hair.
Sniggling under your arm.
Having your hands on my waist.
Watching funny videos and looking at stupid pictures with you.
Family dinners.
Knowing you thought I was truly beautiful.
Koala-ing.
Being Krackened.
Making plans together.
Playing video games instead of going out.
Having you to hold me and keep me safe.
Showing you off.
Knowing we were right for each other.
The way I felt when you kissed me after days of being apart.
The feeling of being a part of your family.
But more than anything,
I'm going to miss being in love with you.

Cassé

I think the hardest part is knowing that I did nothing wrong; you just don't want me any more.

Espérances

When I was twelve, I wondered what my life would be like aged eighteen.
I used to wonder who, where, and what I would be.
As expected, eighteen did not live up to expectations.
I have lost contact with 98% of the people I spent the last five years with.
My best friend cut me off, lied to me, and stabbed me in the back.
I suffered from mild depression and still have severe anxiety.
I have a psychologist, and am on anti-depressants.
All of this pushed my first real relationship to the brink of destruction countless times.
I didn't have an 18th because I didn't have enough friends to make it worthwhile.
I didn't get a TER, so am unable to study at university.
I don't have a job.
I can't drive.
I still can't ride a bike.

But, I haven't felt this good in a long time.
I love and appreciate my family more than ever.
My boyfriend has been with me for the toughest year of my life, and I am still crazy in love with him.
I get to study at the coolest building in Adelaide.
I come home covered in clay, paint and charcoal four days a week.
I've met some of the most awesome people, and finally know what a true friend is.
I've just inherited enough money to buy the camera and computer of my dreams.
I'm finally confident enough to dress and look how I want, currently sporting a red pixie cut.
I am not the person I wanted to be.
I am better.
I am finally myself.

Cried out eyes.

You know the ones.
Red rimmed, prickling.
Heavy yet light.
They blur the edges between...
Well, between practically everything.
Your mouth may say joy,
But your eyes won't comply.
Your soul has drained out,
And lingers on your lashes.
In your hair.
On your fingertips.
At the very peak of your nose.
And you only really stop,
When you've shed so much,
You've forgotten what it means to be happy.