sight_unseen
The clouds come
Bleak as always.
The leaves drop,
The nights chill.
The coolness contagious,
Always calling to some part of me;
Begging me to join.
To exist in the cool, the grey, the bleak.
To forget the warmth of the sun
And the joy of living.
To drown in the changing seasons and to let them drag me under with them.
Will I let them?
Should I let them?
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-L
What would it be to live without you?
At this point I don’t want to know.
My life was dark before I met you
And you were the brilliant sun.
Why would I even want to consider going without those sunny days,
though now they are few and far between.
Infusing me with warmth still to this day,
I live for those sunny days.
Dreadful though the following cloudy days may seem,
the momentary gleam is worth any darkness.
One day, perhaps the darkness won’t be so suffocating;
perhaps you won’t be the only ever-present sun.
Until then,
I don’t want to know.
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Hope this finds you well,
-L.
I want to die again
Thanks, December.
The year weighing heavily on me;
The new one even heavier.
The sins of the past,
The mistakes of the future.
Digging myself out or digging myself under?
Time passing me by,
Life drifting on its way.
Here I stay,
No longer moving forward.
Always looking behind,
Stuck dreading ahead.
Trying to breathe through the fog I feel in my soul.
Maybe next December.
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Hope this finds you well,
-L
If you are thinking of suicide there is help available. In Canada call 9-8-8.
Is it killing me quickly or killing me slowly?
Killing me,
Regardless.
Squeezing the air from my lungs,
Dulling all colours to grey;
Killing me.
How long can I go without breathing full breaths?
How much longer without a good night’s rest?
My soul slowly being dragged down to the dirt as the last of my breath leaves me.
Leaving only this ache in my chest,
Killing me.
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Hope this finds you well,
-L
There are resources available if you are thinking of suicide or self harm : https://findahelpline.com
I feel like I’m living in a glass house; like everyone walking by me can see me falling apart, can see the hole in my chest, and can see how much of a wreck I am.
Because of you.
I can’t let people close to me, I can’t let them in.
They might take one look at my tired eyes and see right through me.
They might see all this pain,
This turmoil,
These crashing waves.
They might see it all.
The hopelessness of never seeing dawn again after this darkness.
The wishing, the waking, the wanting.
The waiting.
Waiting for this grief I live in to overwhelm me for good and to take me away,
Away from this glass house.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
Even my tired brain stays awake to think of you.
With you.
Without you.
What my life has been and what it could have been.
Thinking of full moons and you.
Awake and sleeping- dreaming.
Always of you.
Always in the fall.
Wishing for and hating goodbye.
I’m tired of this life, of you, of life without you.
So tired of dreaming.
Hope this finds you well,
-L
My pen bleeds onto paper ever September.
Melancholy is my muse.
To millions, this month is a beginning; to me, it’s always a goodbye.
The seasons change and drag us along with them. As the leaves turn from green to yellow, and then to brown, my mood begins the same change.
Perhaps I’ll always be sad in the fall; who wouldn’t be if they’d lived the same autumns that I have.
Missing, always. Madness too.
The leaves dry, as do my tears.
I wish to crumple up with them on the ground and let September pass me by while my pen bleeds me dry.
Hello, September.
Goodbye.
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Hope this finds you well,
-L
Here I am, hoping, with my terracotta heart.
Hoping, once again, that one fall will be too little to send shards of my heart flying through the air.
Too many times I’ve gathered the pieces together and swept the floor.
The only cleaning ritual that ends without satisfaction.
There is no relief at the sight of neat piles and clean floors, only the knowledge of the work that now looms overhead.
Reconstruction.
Reconfiguration.
Refortification.
All so I can sit and hope again.
This time maybe I’ll wish too, with my terracotta heart.
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Hope this finds you well,
-L
Darkness recognizes darkness.
That’s my theory on why I can’t seem to sleep until it’s light out.
While lying awake at night, I relish the thoughts of just going for a drive, going for late night/early morning McDonald’s, going out and about in the stillest of hours. At night it feels like I can do anything or be anyone.
Yet, as much as my bed often feels like a refuge, it feels like it has walls closing in as soon as the light begins to fade. Walls close in as the darkness quickens.
Sleep never comes easy at night but as the dawn breaks, I’m able to drift away securely.
The darkness in my mind and in my heart recognizes darkness and waits to conquer me once I close my eyes.
Half of this battle is working my entire life around this. In that, I have succeeded. I have worked one entire year of night shifts and have slept soundly during the daylight.
The darkness has all but put out my light.
How can darkness be at once still and freeing, yet heavy and suffocating?
I’m tired of the dark but it still feels safer, though only while awake.
I wish and wish for that eternal darkness where there is no need to worry about waking or sleeping; about dawn or dusk. For that I would go to sleep gladly, even in the night.
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Hope this finds you well,
-L
Spending time with family used to bring me a little slice of contentment and peace, just knowing they were safe and happy was all it took.
Now it slowly slices off pieces of my heart. They are happy and safe, and they feel contentment and peace. I feel years removed from them. Their joy is no longer my joy. Time spent together is like rubbing salt in a wound, like hand sanitizer on paper cuts.
I spent so much of my life protecting them and shielding them and all I get for it is pain and faked smiles.
I was invited over for supper and by the time I got there, everyone had already eaten and the supper was cold. Their uncaring sliced deep. They were a family without me. I had worked thanklessly over Thanksgiving while they all spent time with loved ones but I did not get the same courtesy.
I spend so much time picking out presents for them that they will need or will find useful and I get not a one in return. My only gift this year was a jar of lotion in a scent that makes me nauseous, from my mother who doesn’t even like me.
It’s just one thing after another. There’s been times where I haven’t felt loved, but I’ve never felt so unloved.
I’ve always hoped to feel love from my family; true unconditional love. Now I don’t think I ever will.
I’ve loved them with my whole heart for my entire life.
I suppose I stuck with life partly because I always hoped I’d eventually feel love and that my family would feel like warmth and security. Family has been my safety plan for 20 years.
That’s what the books say, isn’t it? Have a safety plan. Create a safety plan. Have your friends help you make a safety plan.
Mine has been crossed out, scribbled over, crumpled up, and now it’s finished.
What is there left to live for, if not love?
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Hope this finds you well,
-L
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If you or someone you know needs support right now, there is help available.
Sight Unseen 