Devoured Darkness;

She slept with the lights switched on.

She said that she was afraid of the darkness,

But it wasn’t the darkness that scared her,

It was the thought of not being able to control the things around her that truly terrified her.

Dear Confidence,

(updated version)

How are you? How have you been? WHERE have you been?
I haven’t seen you in a while; it’s just that I’ve been so busy, you know, going with the flow.
But maybe we could grab a cup of coffee sometime, so that I can let you know that I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for ignoring the truth, for constantly denying it again and again and again.
For every lie that tangled with the words creating a different sentence.
Practising to make every lie sound believable, practising for that perfection but accidentally making it all permanent.

I’m sorry for pushing you aside, for pushing you away in every uncomfortable situation that I’ve been in.
For every doubts that clouded my mind,
But never finding the courage to ask for an explanation, or just for a repetition.

I’m sorry for never standing up for you,
For always ignoring you when you always stood up for me,
You were the ‘maybes’ in my head,
The one who said that it was okay,
You were the one who soothed me through the pain, always showing me hope, always showing me that there is a next another day,
But I made you bleed confidence,
I let you down.

I let you down, when I didn’t tell my mother no, when I wanted to her no.
‘No mother, I don’t want to take medicine’ or ‘No mother, i don’t want to be a doctor, running around and trying to save lives’. Just, please let me try and save myself first.

I let you down when I didn’t step out from my comfort zone,
That this became my new found home,
That I’d rather watch time pass by than create a memory out of it,
Making reminders but never progressing further with it,
Always repeating the phrase ‘five more minutes’ but those five more minutes never came,
Those five more minutes became the next five more minutes, creating a chain of lost time,
Making my life just a span of just five minutes.

Regret is the single word that defines me now,
Sitting down and wondering what might have happened if I just listened to you,
But I was stubborn, confidence,
Stubborn when it comes to you, only you.

So I’m sorry confidence,
For pushing you away, pushing you over, until I became the push over.

4-7-8 breathing;

4-7-8 breathing;
A technique recommended by my doctor to help me calm down.
Inhale through your nose for four seconds,
Hold for seven,
Exhale through your mouth for eight,
And repeat.

4+7+8=19.
In these 19 seconds I’m mentally paralysed but physically alright,
Unable to conquer my thoughts I find myself lost in a space between illusion and delusion,
Unable to see clearly I found my clarity,
I’m suffocating but it finally feels like I’m breathing,
I’m panicking but I can finally feel my heart beating,
Nothing seems to make sense in these 19 seconds,
My whole life seems to be a nightmare and these 19 seconds becomes my harsh reality,
Repeating this technique again,
I bought myself 19 more second of living.

4-7-8 breathing,
Am I even breathing?

Her closure

She was the maiden in her own disaster
Always dreaming big but being told to be practical,
She was unique but afraid of being different than the others,
She was free, but her father always reminded her to stay within her limits,

‘Don’t change yourself for others’, her mother always told her,
‘Do it because you want to.’
But, she’s a complete stranger to herself now,
Not knowing what she wants or what she truly needs,
They’re all tangled up creating a nest of confusion for her to rest on.

Always so selfless never too selfish was her flaw,
Always putting others first that she wounded up getting the silver in her own race.

She was an unpolished diamond,
Always being mistaken for a pebble,

Perfect.

We are perfect.
Perfect for each other,
Perfect for one another,
Perfect when we complete each other’s sentence,
Perfect when we split the bill after dinner,
Perfect when we jam to every G-eazy song,
Perfect when I wear your sweater,
Perfect when we take a picture,
Perfect when we have lameass corny inside jokes,
Perfect when we cuddle next to each other,
Perfect when we have cringey nicknames for each other.

Perfect is what’s being said under the comment section of every uploaded picture.
We are perfect.
Perfect for 9 years.

We are perfect when the doors are closed,
Perfect when we cry because of one another,
Perfect in our silent dinners across each other,
Perfect when we lie to each other,
Perfect when we scream at each other,
Perfect when alcohol is always our solution,
Perfect when we clear the broken pieces of glasses every morning,
Perfect when your absence is my pleasure.

We stay because of our memories, because of the history.
Love is just non existence.
My first impression was a lie.
There is no fire, there is no spark,
The butterflies are dead, they’re rotting inside,
We’re nothing now, we’re just warm bodies now.

Dear Nostalgic Parents

Times have changed, we’re not the same.
Your favourite repeated phrase ‘when I was your age’ echoes everywhere,
It’s different now, life is more virtual now,
Letting go of that skipping rope because there is a better connection with our phones now.

I’m sorry if I seem antisocial to you, but on my social media, my followers won’t justify your case.
I’m sorry if my priorities are different than they were before,
Stuff toys don’t appeal to me anymore,
Walks down the park don’t really satisfy me anymore,

I’m sorry if I don’t look up to you anymore but only bow down to my phone,
I’m sorry that I’d rather google than ask for your advise,
Sitting in front of the television seems more ideal than sitting across each other face to face.
Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook keeps me more entertained than me asking you ‘how was your day?’
My ideas aren’t creative now as the card I drew for you on your birthday when I was eight,
Pintrest inspires me now, but I have no originality now.