Words.

Someday, I'll stop writing.
 I'll stop feeling.
I'll stop giving physical form to my emotions.
I'll let go of everything that matters.
I'll stop.
I'll turn into a fragmented girl.
I'll stop writing, but until then,
 I'll let my words describe my sadness and give beauty to my misery.
I'll let words be the most powerful thing in my life.
I'll let words ensure that there is excitement in my life, and not infinite security.
I'll let words be the thing that destroy me in the end, but the things I love the most.
I'll let my words be poetic and prettily written.
I'll let words be my drug, the thing that helps me get through each day's misery but will kill me in the end.
 I'll let words intoxicate me.
I'll let the words speak to me.
I'll let words have the supreme position in my life.
I'll let words flow just like my tears rolled down my cheeks; making the sound of water gushing into an empty glass. Pitter-patter.
I'll let words fill the void in my cracked soul.
I'll let words comfort me when I'm broken, defeated and beaten.
I'll let words numb the intensity of pain I'm forced to bear; as numb as a fossil.
I'll let words soothe my tornado-like mind.
I'll let words be the thing that save me in the end, save me from themselves.
I'll let words be the medium of love, sorrow and pain in my life.

Until I stop writing, I'll write, even though I'll never be able to write something even close to what I want to, I'll write. I'll write for the mere satisfaction it gives me. I'll write for the sorrow, for the joy. I'll write because it makes me feel alive. I'll write because words let me cling on to them. I'll write...


“I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still” 
-Sylvia. 

There are times when nothing makes sense; when everything feels wrong.

When all you want to do is slip on an oversized tshirt, velvet sweatpants, curl into a ball and let everything slip away..

When your heart sinks lower and lower with every passing moment, and you let it

When your soul aches from all the frustrations you have been facing, and you let it. 

When you just lie in bed...longing for some peace. A ray of hope. 

Hoping against hope. Letting the tears flow. Letting your soul ache and letting your heart sink. You lie there, motionless. Cold. Fragile. Scared. Waiting. Anxious. 

You know what will happen and you're not looking forward to it. 

Steaming hot tears roll down your icy cold cheeks. You feel the cold sheets against your cooler skin and you get goosebumps all over your body, so you pull up your blanket to warm up your grieving, cold soul, but in vain.

So...you let go. 

You let go of all the tiny bit of happiness is left in you. 

You let go. 

You let go of emotions, feelings and warmth. 

You let go.

You let go of your soul, allow it to escape your mortal body.

You let go.

You let go of your hopes, aspirations.

You let go.

You let go of the power that lies in you.

You're no more than just a mortal being.

Lying in your bed...motionless, cold, fragile, scared, waiting and anxious.

You let go.