I Sat Outside On A Wall Across The Pub. My Dad Was Inside. I Hadn't Spoken To Him In Ten Years. But I

I just read your post about being twenty, lonely and waiting forever for something, anything to happen at all. It really helps to know that there is someone else out there that feels the same, so I wanted to say thank you for your post. It did reach me in a dark moment and managed to bring a little light into my heart. I hope things will get better for you and some day you will get your beautiful plot twist

Thank you 🌼 I really appreciate that, I hope you're life is filled with brighter moments and maybe one day something will find us and kickstart this stagnant waiting or maybe our thirty's will be kinder. we can begin when we want and we'll wait for the sunrise. Sending you joy when you need it most and I hope u get your plot twist aswell. Thankyou anon 💛

I'm going to be honest, I'm not happy. Instead I just am. Just here. Just there. I'm, just. I spent way too long picking the colours for this blog instead of cleaning my house, I spent way too long worrying over my poems instead of worrying over the bills, I spent way too long writing about things that have happened and not about what could. I reply with flowers under comments because I'm worried I'll sound too blunt without them, but sometimes it feels fake, because I'm not that person alone, I don't think in pretty colours, happiness doesn't bloom behind my eyelids in pinks and yellows. Instead my thoughts are blunt and apathy stuffs itself into my ears and covers my eyes. It encases me in a womb, and I'm just waiting to be reborn. Into what exactly I don't know, just more awake I hope, less rotting in bed and more laughing in a field somewhere.

If your business is healthcare and you end up with more people dead than alive, because you purposely turned them away so you could take in more profits, then you have completely failed on a human level. Not to mention your entire business is in complete contradiction with its supposed purpose. You say you're in the buissnes of healing but all we see is death and greed.

I try to write something, anything, but the words are only clear when I feel them press against my heart and mind. They become muffled when hands reach for them, they loose their shape.

Why do you watch me so forlornly? Don't think I didn't notice, I know many of you, I've gazed at your cities with their twinkling lights, the ones that dim the stars to you and I've listened to every secret, every heartfelt want or desperate wish, you tell me your worries and have questions you think I can answer. But mostly you cry, and so very often. I don't have the answers, but I can sit with you, when your sad or lonely at night, when you think your alone.

If the moon could talk what will she say?

I'm older than you, but you scare me sometimes. I worry about this anger that manifests inside you like a black hole, sucking in all the negativie feelings you have and spitting them out at the slightest trigger. You are better at talking about your feelings now, the black hole isn't as active. I feel like I've taught you alot about it being okay to be vulnerable, we've learnt alot about what we mean to each other and our intentions. But sometimes that black whole starts up again and I'll be none the wiser and that scares me sometimes.

Do the people we drift away from ever return to us.

When my parents spilt up I didn't see my dad for months, during this time I would spend nearly every day playing with my friend Kelsey. We would get our hair caught climbing trees or make terrible perfume from her neighbours flowers. One time she pulled out a box from under her bed, it was filled with snails of different sizes collected from her garden "we're going to colour the shells". So that's what we did, we gently coloured around 20 in bright orange, red or purple, after that we put them near a tree by her house. We did all this to see if the same ones would come back, we thought at least 5 would. Weeks went by and we didn't see any colourful shells in her garden, they had moved on. Sometimes people leave and they don't come back, but you still hold the memories close, you still carry their mark on you and maybe they carry yours too.

Maybe somewhere out there, there are snails with brightly coloured shells and maybe carrying a piece of someone with you is enough.

I saw you there. Cigarette lit and back against the door. I watched you, I hadn't seen you in years yet you looked the same, But nothing between us was. I wanted you to notice me, I couldn't approach you, so instead I hoped you'd find my eyes and hold out your heart for me to love again. But our hearts didn't know each other anymore, so I left you by the door.

Let hope wrap you up in its gentle arms, let it never let you go.