It is hard for me to feel lucky when I can never catch a break. I can't stop wanting. Instead of wanting, I lie to myself saying whatever I "need" is deserving. That's bullshit and I know it. I have no deserving qualities. You have to have compassion to be a saint, talent to be an artist, beauty to be a model. I'll be lucky the next time around.

It is all a give n' take.
Life is always just a fucking give n' take.

I have such a heavy chest.
It's the feeling you get when
you are angry.
It's the feeling that comes after
an empty pack of cigarettes.
It's the feeling you get when
all you want is to sleep forever.

I can't swallow. It's hard to figure out
what thoughts are yours when you're
telling yourself you don't think that way.

It's hard not to scream.
It's hard to not want to die.

Purge

She grew up with a mother and father. A father who tried and a mother who cried. Many asked her how she ended up where she was. It was easy. Easy for anyone to trip and fall. There was a crack and then she just fell through. Just like that. It was easy.

She lived her life with the belief that one day she would gain her ounce of punctuality. She prayed she would break free from her liars' club. It was a lost wish. So she settled for love. A love that only the lucky few feel. A love that only the rotten ones can feel. They became dreamers. Two halves, walking around with big gaping holes in the shape of the other person. There was nothing to wish for because everything was heavenly. Until it wasn't. Until the pushes just became too much. Until the past started remembering its role. Everything was heavenly until it wasn't.

People ask, how do you end up there? It is easy. There comes a crack and somehow, you just fall through.