Quietly Existing

 ...and you don't want to be found, come home. When you're broken and lose hope in life, just breathe. When you lose yourself and you push everyone out, stop and focus on who you love. When you feel like you aren't worth fighting for, reanalyze your own thoughts. When you pause and reflect, you gain insight into who you are, who you want to become, and what you have to do to get there... ...and when you finally get yourself back, don't let anyone take you away from you again.

      She wakes up on a bed she instantly recognizes. She's no longer in her current house, the one she got when she was running from something she can't quite remember. However, when she properly looks around after the haze leaves her eyes, a horrifying realization sets in. This is her childhood home, the one that got torn down years ago...the house that's supposed to be gone.      Yet here she was, lying in her childhood bed. It's the same ceiling stain, same wallpaper, peeling at the corners like the place had only just been abandoned. She sits up slowly, afraid that sudden movement might wake something. Her body knows this place better than her mind can catch up; her shoulders curl inward on instinct, her feet avoid the cold patch on the floor near the door. She does not look towards the closet. "I've got to be dreaming..." she says out loud, because that's the rule. Say it and it loses power.     The house doesn't respond. She opens the bedro...

    As a child, I believed my biological parents chose drugs over me. It always felt personal and deliberate, and I carried that belief for years. It wasn't until I faced my own struggles that the shape of that choice began to change. Seeing both sides didn't excuse the pain, but it taught me some things I never expected to understand.     My parents often struggled with alcohol and hard drugs, and throughout my childhood, I dealt with feelings of anger, hurt, distrust, and hatred. Despite being raised by someone without these issues, in adulthood, I found myself drawn to alcohol, LSD, and pills (Xanax, painkillers, muscle relaxants, etc.) I wasn't drawn to a particular pill, and I never really turned to harder drugs. I was always desperate to "escape life for a while" or "drown out my emotional sorrows." Eventually, I even had a period of time where I took handfuls of Benadryl without even counting (not due to the old TikTok challenge.) Don't do tha...

 This is what I long for: adventure with the sunrise, passion in my core, taking pictures with my eyes. As it's time for sunset and the night to fall, I see your silhouette, even within the fog. Sometimes, I turn and toss. I long for the quiet, yet the mind creates chaos. Still, I try to fight it. The morning comes and I can see the doves. Compassion plays the drums all for the sun above. Life is a never-ending show. My inner self, I wish to seek. Even when depression reigns, I know that this is me. The night returns once more, the time that day walkers fear. It's okay to want to explore the shadows beyond the door. Yet as I try to sleep, the demons infiltrate my mind. In my dreams, I fall too deep. Overwhelmed, I wake up blind. Blind to anything good as I force myself numb. A walk into suffering which at times, I succumb. Standing on the precipice, I'm close to the edge. For a moment, I don't mind the abyss as is born, a hopeless eclipse. Then, I feel the breeze as it ...

 Her pen dances like a tempest, writing about storms she cannot contain. Each word is a silent scream, her soul bleeding onto the page. In ink, she plants her sorrows, watching them bloom into understanding. The weight she bears grows lighter as she transforms pain into prose.

 Here you are, standing at the edge. You've come to me, and I've been waiting. I want your eyes to see only me, to drown in my shadows, to forget the world beyond. I know your pain. It cries out to me. I've lingered in the corners of your mind, where your deepest fears reside. Those chains around your neck? They're mine to tighten or release. To live is to take, and I will take everything if you let me. I offer you peace, but it comes at a cost. You must surrender to me. Here you are, clinging to the remnants of strength. But your defiance? It wavers. Your voice trembles, silenced by the weight of despair. Every scar, every wound, marks of battles lost. You've become a target, a vessel for torment. To die is to let go, to release the ruin you clutch so tightly. I promise escape, but only if you yield. To live is to take. To die is to be free. I can end it all, if you surrender to me.

 My weary head, burdened with fears, struggles to smile beneath the weight of tears. Years of pain have carved their mark, a shadowed journey, bitter and stark. Yet I've turned away from bottles leaned upon, seeking solace in battles hard-won. Guilt tightens its relentless hold and the roses within me grow withered and cold. It's not my soul, but the demons that creep, stealing my strength, disturbing my sleep. Though this ache feels unending, I cannot relent. I must meet myself fully, shed the mask of pretense. Yes, it's exhausting. I feel it, I know. But even the darkest thoughts can be canvases for growth. This path demands patience, a skill to be learned. Sometimes, the rain must fall where it yearns. Emotions are not enemies; it's what we create from their fire. So, I'll offer my heart the rest it requires, let the rose bloom and reach ever higher. I refuse to be chained by the specter of fear. Instead, I'll listen closely. My emotions must be heard, crysta...

 A battlefield blooms within my mind, where roses tangle and thorns unwind. Petals soft, yet sharp they tear, in crimson streams, they paint despair. The flowers plead with whispered grace, but bloodstains drown their gentle face. A war of beauty, rage, and pain, the garden fights through endless rain. Each bloom a thought, both bright and grim, each drop of blood, a fading hymn. Yet from the soil of strife and scars, new flowers reach toward quiet stars.

 This is what I've become, a ghost in your shadow, a flicker that lingers only to fade behind you. A life without meaning, a wilted rose lost among the vibrance of a blooming garden. Here I stand, waiting to be noticed, but your light eclipses mine every time. They seek me out, like hunters closing in on fragile prey, yet you remain unscathed. There is no unity, only the ache of regret, enduring this shared, hollow existence.

 I've wept until no tears remain, a mind replaying endless pain. Fears unspoken, yet so near, lost in haze, I disappear. Time slips through my fragile hold. It's a will worn thin, a tale retold. Life bites sharp, bitter and cold, ignoring knocks as stories unfold. I'm not shattered, not yet gone, though shadows stretch and linger on. I fear the void, the great unknown, yet this is the path I've always been shown; a silent war, a fight alone. Haunted by the scars I've made, a past that time will not degrade. Trust once given, cruelly swayed, a heart that aches for tender aid. I pour a glass to blur the line between what's broken and what's fine. A fragile mind in slow decline,  finding comfort in sorrow's vine.

 Truly, I'm fine. I haven't always been truthful. Yes, I've stumbled.  My thoughts have turned dark. I've tasted bitterness, felt it's sting on my tongue. I've walked that shadowed path. But now, I swear I'm fine. Truly, I am.  I know you doubt it. I know you can't see it. You glimpse fragments of battles fought in silence, of secrets buried deep, of fears that breathe in the dark. You were there. You made them real. Yet still, I promise, I'm fine. Dawn bleeds into dusk and dusk into dawn. The world spins backwards. Reality blurs, or perhaps it never was. Am I mad? I can't say. I speak to no one, but you're always near. Still, I assure you, I'm fine. I paint on a face, stretch a smile until it aches. Layers of color hide the cracks. The mirror shows a stranger. No one knows me. I know no one...except you. It never ends. You're eternal, etched into every thought. Yet even now, I swear to you... ...I am fine.