Meds

Stopped taking my meds two months ago
Guess you could say i missed feeling low
1000 voices in my head that hate myself
Then I make shit decisions and fuck my mental health
Still wish I was unstable and got drunk just to feel
Happier when I’m questioning whether I’m really real
What’s the point of paying 50 quid for therapy
When I’m much better being sad like I’ve always been
Would rather want to kill myself than improve myself, not much good for my mental health
My therapist is gonna lose it when she hears this
At least death has some finality
Bit I’ve made depression my whole personality, not ready to face the reality
Now it’s difficult to separate depression from me and even worse when I cant seem to break free of the misery that this life seems to be.
So when the reaper comes calling and puts an end to my endless falling
I hope that you can see that you made me happy but that happiness is not the be all amd end all when the rest of your life is so crappy.
Now that I can maybe find some peace in deaths sweet release. Just tell me you won’t mourn the deceased like you hurt the living.

Sad one from a whole ago

– Hope

Envy is a Sin

Are you kissing her right now? Your arm slung over her waist as you watch some stupid film and I sit here crying over 2000s romcoms like it was never my fucking fault in the first place. I’m so fascinatingly incredible and ruining every chance of my own happiness. Dragging down everyone else in the process. I had you right there and I let you fall ten feet below because I will always be terrified. I am so undeserving of your goodness and your light. You always will desevre more than trauma and heartbreak, you deserve love as pure as your own. And that, I do not have. I have no right to be jealous but the green snake in me is writhing at the thought of you and her in the sheets. If envy is a sin then I need to find enlightenment for the tainted soul within me. And if I must punish myself and purge for the sins that I have committed for a promise of your happiness then I would wait in purgatory and walk through hell for the rest of eternity. Your happiness means everything to me. You will always be light and I will always be poison. I will not taint you too.

-hope x

I guess it’s goodbye

All good things must come to an end. That’s what they say. Good things fall apart. Hearts are made to be broken. Mine certainly is. The grass is always greener on the other side. You always want what you don’t have. My life is on repeat, a broken record. Fall in love, fall out of love, break a heart, or two, or three. Find another poor person to destroy with a heart that can’t love and a brain that can’t come to terms with the fact that maybe it’s me. I look around and see happy people and think that maybe good things only fall apart for me because I’m the one with the detonator. Can I not love? Or will I not let myself love? I might be broken but every time I do this I break myself a little more. I don’t think the right person is out there for me. I don’t think I deserve someone like that. For how can one deserve love when they’re so incapable of loving. How can someone crave affection when they can’t procure a single drop of it. How can someone look in the mirror after breaking the heart of yet another person who has been nothing but good to them. You cannot deserve love when one is so incapable of accepting it, producing it or displaying it. I always thought I wore my heart on my sleeve. Now I don’t think there is a heart for me to wear. They say all good things come to an end. So I guess this is goodbye.

-Hope xx

First

Here’s the story of /some/ of my first kisses

i. Running around the house, hiding the stupid image of 7 year old me from you. Chance number one, been and gone. Soft sheets and playful laughs turned serious eyes and small smiles. Nervous hearts and soft breaths because this one really is my first. Stuttered confession and bashful gaze, you led me all the way. Tender and sweet and pushed no further. Just how I always wanted. Forgettable in a few years I think, just sweet and careful. My very first. Not to last.

ii. Same place, different soul. Nervous laughter and awkward energy. Not the best fit; we make it work. Barely there, quick and brief. Guess you call that holding back. Rather uninspiring in terms of first kisses, but it will do. The rest to come made up for it. Sweet and intoxicating, deadly and lovely. Definitely made up for it. But in a few years you’ll slip my mind, ripples before calm water once again.

iii. Drunk, messy but I’ve always wanted to kiss them lips. Stained red and tasting of sweet alcohol. Words stumble out my mouth, tripping over each other in a slurred sentence. God it’s been such a long time of yearning. I don’t remember much. Heated and catastrophic and amazing. Not helping me. Over too soon. Never again. Oh, maybe once more. Enough. I think I’ll remember this one for a while.

iv. Your cologne still makes my heart pound, my head spin. The sofa of my living room. My head in your lap, your hands in my hair. Warmth and comfort and home. Soft laughter, teasing and joy. Eyes to mouth to TV. God I was nervous. The thrill of the chase was easily replaced by soft lips and tender embraces. Solid, encompassing. Perfect. Yet wanting and experienced and just too much but no enough. Everything all at once and nothing at all. All things beautiful in the world in one touch. I can’t stop thinking about it. I won’t ever stop thinking about it. This one, this one was special.

Until it was no longer something beautiful, instead a poison, an addiction that tears us apart yet draws us in, just to spit us out again in the morning. Something so cruel and heart wrenching, doused in bitter memories of pain and shouting and passion. Your lips are a sin now, a sickly fixation I can’t forget. It may destroy me.

V. Maybe one day I’ll know the feeling of your lips on my skin, on my neck, on my own. Hands bumping, shoulders brushing as we walk. Private smiles and boisterous laughter, a happiness that you seem to bring. Shared secrets at two am or whispered confessions covered with funny stories and careless nonchalance. New familiarity and forgotten memories. Sometimes I wonder if I really want to know your lips, then I tell myself not to worry because I’m certain that I never will.

-Hope Xx