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Day Four Thousand Six Hundred And Sixty Three

Thursday, 24 August 2023, 11.01pm

It feels like me

Exciting.

#poetry #spilled ink #prose

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Day Three Thousand Five Hundred And Twenty Five

Sunday, 13 July 2020, 0.53AM

Sorry. I still love you.

Just sometimes I need you to hold me a little tighter. I need you to grab me. To look into my eyes like we’re the only people in the world. Like nothing else matters.

Sometimes I need just you. Just us. Just calm.

Sorry.

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Day Three Thousand One Hundred And Ninety Five

Monday, 21st July 2019, 10.25pm

I haven’t written anything worthwhile in 525 days. I find myself at the bottom of the bathtub again, drowning still. 

I think I’m waiting for something. Something that maybe doesn’t exist yet. A place, a thought, a person I don’t know yet. If I knew what or where or who then I’d be gone already. Instead I’m sat here, waiting. Drowning. 525 days later. 

#spilled ink #prose

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Day Two Thousand Six Hundred and Seventy

Tuesday, 13th February 2018, 1.10am

“It can’t be all that bad.” You say.

“No, I guess not.” I say.

But pain doesn’t go away. It just become habit.

#spilled ink #prose #loss #pain

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Day Two Thousand Six Hundred and Sixty Nine

Monday, 12 January 2018, 10.10pm

I think I’m losing it just lately. Sometimes I don’t even get dressed. I just stand at the window, waiting.

I wait for you. Because I’d rather be sad with you than be anywhere without you. But the thing is I’ll always be without you now and I’ll always be sad. Is that irony?

Fuck you, Alanis Morrisette. Fucking irony.

You know, now I think about it, I want to get lost. I want to be closer to you.

#spilled ink #prose #heartbreak #loss

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Day Two Thousand Six Hundred and Fifty Three

Sunday, 28 January 2018, 9.22pm

When I lost you for the first time, I felt nothing.

But I’ve lost you again every fucking day since and I’ve felt everything. 

Every time I fall asleep, I lose you again. Every time I wake up, I lose you again. When our song plays on the radio, when the ground freezes over, I lose you again. 

Over and over. Every fucking day. 

When I lost you, I felt nothing. But I knew it wasn’t going to be okay for a very long time. 

#loss #spilled ink #prose

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Eighty Seven

Saturday, 28 January 2017, 5.33pm

But, then I think silence is deadly.

#anxiety #prose #spilled ink

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Eighty Six

Friday, 27 January 2017, 4.31am

Here’s something I won’t admit. I think too much I guess. Thinking is awful. Even just for a while, I want silence. An empty head.

#anxiety #prose #spilled

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Eighty Five

Thursday, 26th January 2017, 7.26pm

How can I expect you to know what I want when I don’t even know myself?

#anxiety #prose #spilled ink

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Eighty Four

Wednesday, 25 January 2017, 11.15pm

Trying to fall asleep before I fall apart.

#anxiety #insomnia #prose #spilled ink

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Eighty Three

Tuesday, 24 January 2017, 9.57pm

There’s no air. I can’t control it. My chest is compacting. I cant feel my face. Sorry.

#anxiety #panic attack #prose #spilled ink

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Eighty Two

Monday, 23 January 2017, 11.20pm

People sure know how to rub salt in your wounds.

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Eighty One

Sunday, 22 January 2017, 1pm

Some days, like today actually, I don’t think. Because sometimes life is better doing nothing, being nothing.

#anxiety #prose #spilled ink

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Eighty

Saturday 21 January 2017, 11am

I like that sound of frozen grass as it perishes under my foot. I like how it caves into itself under my weight. It’s kind of funny because I don’t like the sound of my lungs perishing and caving into themselves. But it sounds the same. 

#anxiety #prose #spilled ink

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Seventy Nine

Friday, 20 January 2017, 11.59pm

The more I drink, the less I have to think.

#anxiety #prose #spilled ink

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Seventy Eight

Thursday, 19 January 2017, 5.42am

13 years. 13 and counting if we’re honest. 

My heart still skips, my stomach still sings, and my lungs still fill with something short of a dream. I love you. There has never been a time when that hasn’t been true. I’ll love you forever, I know that and I’m a better person because of it.

Thank you for 13 years. Here’s to some more.

#unconditionallove #prose #letter #spilled ink

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Day Two Thousand Two Hundred and Seventy Seven

Wednesday, 18 January 2017, 11.09pm

You smile and I don’t run away. But sometimes, quite a lot of the time actually, I want to. I’m running out of breath in my head, sprinting away. But I stand there with you, pretending to smile too.

#anxiety #prose #spilled ink