< 25th february >
dear diary,
another day, another prayer for help and hope. "hope" is such a funny word. it always reminds me of the time i read the book mythos by stephan fry and it stated that when pandora opened her box (which was actually an urn) one last entity was left behind, hope. although other versions of the tale state that it was a being even more sinister than the ones that escaped, it still makes me wonder if hope ever escaped or not. if my body were the world and my mind pandora, it certainly left hope behind and ceased to open any box again. it's 5am like it always is and i have an exam tommorow, but here i am. speaks volumes about the pandora surrounding me. my body is a numb earth, unaffected by the fires and the furies growing inside because it has grown accustomed to them overtime. my anxiety and grief are rulers of the underworld that we refuse to visit, until the times we completely die of course. heaven? well, heaven doesn't exist here yet, although we try to make one (or "find it" perhaps) there is no equator, no orbit and never any latitudes or longitudes here, i float free in space and time but still remain trapped.
towards the dimming sun, there sits the fact that i do not think about the person i once loved but never deserved anymore. well at least not as much as i did before ; but they still laugh and sit in their group all day, and i stare at them as if i were running through time and hit a rock that k!lled me there. i long for the times when i was a sticker in their group of pretty pictures but know that i wasn't worthy of that and it's more than better that they ripped me out, but getting over something dosen't mean you don't miss it because even i know that if given the chance, i would right all my wrongs and bring back the ones i dropped along the way. and spend more last minutes with the ones i know would leave me.
if i were the earth and pandora my brain, my chest would be the underworld and my bones olympus. you cannot feel the underworld, i never feel my heart anymore, or any other chest organ for the matter. i've forgotten what it feels like to cry a genuine river or drown the pain onto paper, in words i was so good at weaving once. maybe i still have enough time to weave a future but i cannot move my hands. when a device goes to factory reset, it automatically deletes all of its data. maybe i have accidentally factory rest myself but i am no device, or am i?
deliriously,
a friend
YOU ARE READING
open scarlet letters
Non-Fiction"we're so young but we're on the road to ruin, we play dumb but we exactly what we're doing we show off, our different scarlet letters" (new romantics, taylor swift) the chronicles of a not very stable person recorded through diary entries. a new a...
