Contelysia

If I show you all my demons, and we dive into the deep end, Would we crash and burn like every time before? Isn't vulnerability a virtue?  The love that reaches into my chest and swirls around my heart when I open up, the comfort that radiates from my limbs when I rest my head on your shoulder, and the way I would never trade it for anything else. I laugh and dance and sing with all my heart when I am with you. I feel at home, comfortable, and myself. I don't feel like a sword hangs above my head, waiting to shatter me into pieces the moment I am too much or too little. You say that I'm enough. All of you say that I am perfect as I am, as I do the same for you. Imagine, if I wasn't vulnerable. My smile would be caged behind a cyclone of reticence and emotions that make no sense to a person who wants to love. My laugh would be a giggle, ashamed to be freed into the dark and scary world. My voice wouldn't reach its highest octaves to sing with you, and I definitely wo...

My fingers typed relentlessly, stopping at no word, pausing at no emotion. It was real. It was palpable as I wrote my heart out, my words swirling and splaying into the emotions I never could express well. I never knew what to say. I never knew how to tell you what I felt. Sad. Overwhelmed. Loved. Insecure. Hurt. Happy. How did I feel? I never knew unless I started to write. And when I did, the words would tell me how I felt. "Why do you love to write?" he asked me, my eyes focused on my diary as my hand wrote in cursive.  "Writing never hurt me," I murmured softly, and he tipped my chin with his hands, looking into my eyes, "How is it to love without being threatened to be hurt by your mind?" I remained silent, my eyes flicking back to the page, "It helps me breathe," I replied, smiling softly. I wish I knew what to say when I loved. I wish I could express how much words mean to me without writing them down. They are my story. They are who I am....

 Shhhhh! Do you hear that? That's the silence that I seek. The silence that I get when I leave my home, The silence that holds me back from being weak. The silence that in the darkness shone. The silence that coaxes me to believe in death, The peace it brings, The commotion that ceases, the quiet. The eternal silence sings, Sings me to sleep that envelopes me. Sings me to 'everlasting' joy. A joy that will not necessarily be. Shhhhh! Do you hear that? It's the silence I want. The dark I need to last, The empty void that envelopes me. A silence so crass, It scars my being, Strips me of my enlightening will, Extinguishes it to plunge me into darkness. Shhhhh! Do you hear that? Nothing, I hear nothing anymore. A shadow consumes me, and the night is all I know.

 I sit in a room, with a roof of the night A night sky with no stars, just the ever-consuming dark. The room encloses me in grey walls, Walls that seem to close in on me, with a floor so white, White that shocks me into a stupor. Joy lingers outside the doorless room, Fury laps like flames on the cement. Despair tends to seep its way in sometimes, But sorrow waits outside, like an old friend. I trace the white floor with my fingers, Along the ridges looking for a sprout of grass, To believe in feeling again. To believe in enjoying with ardor. To believe in being furious with fervor. But the sprout of grass is non-existent, And the despair seeps in again. Nevertheless, I felt something, even if it brings me to despair.                                       ---~   })!({ ~--- I sit in a room, with a roof of the night A night sky with no stars, just the ever-consuming...

"It's here." My sister swung the door open, panting. "I'm not in a mood for pranks, Maggie." I ignored her, keeping my head buried in my book. "Not a prank," she said, waving an envelope in her hand.  "What?!"  I ran after her as she went downstairs to the living room. She thumped down on the sofa and proceeded to open up the letter. "I'm the elder one. I have to open it." My mind overflowed with curiosity, and I tore open the envelope.  "Honey, Let your sister read the letter, too... " My mother knew me a little too well. I hesitantly held the letter between us. My darlings. If you're reading this, I've too left your lives. The terrible disease took me away, but believe me, I am happy. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you. You know, I had no choice. I tried my best to hold on, to live on, but what will be, will be. I don't know how long after this letter will reach you. I hope it reached you soon. T...