“Hello darkness my old friend..” Hello depression. Hello stress.

I thought visiting their graves was enough,

Exchanging thoughts and breathing the same air, for a while.

Then leaving for a more hopeful destination.

But my visits have been more frequent recently,

I thought I’d stop coming a long time ago.

And this weekend, I found an invitation as clear as daylight.

I should have never showed up.

But here I am.

Facing them, drawn to them, again.

Feeding on my weak heart.

Telling me to dig them up from the ground.

Promising me what I couldn’t achieve yet, alone.

Promising me again, that I needed them.

And I’m tempted to give in.

But the last time I did that, it didn’t turn out well.

And the recovery was painful.

So I stand there, silently crying,

Waiting,

Searching for the strength within me

To pull me away from that cemetery

To get over the dead.

To make peace with my living self.

I stand there trembling.

Afraid to let go.

Afraid to be alone.

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The dead cannot have desires

When I no longer hear my surroundings,
When I no longer can see the different colors that make life and instead see either the dark or light,
When I no longer give out carbon dioxide and pollute this Earth,
Does that mean I’ve managed to fly to the moon?
Where sound cannot be transmitted.
Where it’s difficult to breathe.
Can I safely say that I’ve lived another life just to be given a second chance on my favorite planet?
Can you tell me Death is still not here yet?