Times like these i just want you next to me, with a bowl of comfort food. 

Wish i could come back to a home. Seems like i’m coming back to a house with a rented room which is mine. 

I have to escape my head.

You are my escape. 

People say they know you, but they can’t even read you. Slowly, everyone is forgetting who i am, what i’ve done, how i’m like. I’m starting to lose myself too. I’m just somebody you use to know. Just a walking soul.

Why do you have to ruin what i was hoping for?

As much as u want to believe they do, no one actually cares about you Danisha. So don’t try. They don’t give a damn. 

Haven’t felt this way in a darn while. When life decides to rear its ugly head drowning you into its empty eyes, leading you to believe that you were dragged to such a fate. When you wake, if you do sleep, this feeling of hopelessness rushes back to you as soon as you open your eyes. Makes you not want to wake at all, and just stay in a fantasy dreamland where it was just a myth. Heavy eyes, swell up from the streams that flowed. Days of not having a decent meal, not because you can’t, rather loss of an appetite, an unheard of thing to me. Headaches that conglomerate as a result of too much that the mind can’t handle. No one can help you, you are in this alone. And either way, you’re breathing, you’re living. You are alive.