Always give them the benefit of the doubt…

I look into our past conversations,

And I feel like suffocating.

I wish I knew before, that the worst enemy

You can ever encounter

Is yourself. Your mind. Your eyes.

You play tricks on yourself.

And others get blamed for your blindness or your own manipulation to yourself.

And everyone suffers.

You tell yourself a story to justify your rage,

Your hurt, your feelings of betrayal,

When barely anything of that story is true.

The facts has been twisted for your own liking.

I look into our past conversations,

And I find my side of the story of how things went between us invalid and unclear.

I pray for your happiness more than I pray for mine.

Don’t ask me how I feel about you,

Because the answer is the same.

I honestly don’t know.

I know that the way I view your personality

Has changed over the years,

Which makes it confusing for me to figure out my feelings.

I don’t think I’ll ever love myself wholeheartedly,

Because if I did, I would have accepted your love.

I never think I deserve that kind of admiration.

Maybe that’s why I can only chase behind those

Who can love me less than I do.

Don’t ask me if there’s any hope,

Because the answer is still the same.

I hope you’ll find someone better

Who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.

I feel like,

I can never allow myself to be with you

Because I think too highly of you.

And I think too little of myself.

“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.