I have so much too say. I hate it when I have so much too say. I am mad. I am really, really mad. I woke up mad, sad and just damn right depressed. I knew this would happen I expected it too happen. It always happens, Friday comes and it always has to happens.
My whole life, I predicted it. All week, I prepare for it. All day, I put up my walls. I build my fortress. It has to be repaired because it weakens every Friday. So I strengthen it every week. I built it up for Friday. Stone cold, rock hard and unattractively grey.
It is there. I want it to be there. It keeps my personal war in. The war I mentally train myself for everyday until Friday comes. My walls are strong it always are. My fortress is what it is. It traps me inside holds me in here. I am a warrior for myself. I am an angel for others.
I mean I don’t like how I think. And I often hurt people by saying things I don’t mean. I’m sorry, I hate Fridays. I’m sorry for taking so long to be your friend. I’m sorry, I hid how broken I am from you. I’m sorry for everything I said on a Friday. I’m sorry for the anxiousness I display on a Thursday night. I’m sorry I had left you.
I’m so fucking sorry that I can’t forget I hurt you. I’m sorry I refuse to forget but I have been fantasising about dying and basically praying that it doesn’t course you any pain. I love you so much. You are the only support system I have.
I have lost so much sleep since the shooting of smart IT guy on Saturday. I forgot all about tomorrow being Friday. And the storm has already started. And I feel I’m fighting a losing battle. But only I will hear my battle symphony. My walls are weak. But I still have my heart. And my heart beats to win because it’s a natural. I’ll make it, I’ll be battered, I’ll be beat but I’ll survive.
Depression is always my best motivation. Obsession is always my best inspiration. And fear is always my best teacher.
YOU ARE READING
knowing just how to love you
PoetryLetters to a loved one is so rare in the twentieth century. Rare like their friendship. Zubaidah writes letters. Zubaidah writes letters to her best friend Uzair. She speaks her mind in them. She loves writing them. It makes her feel special and imp...
