i dont know

if it could be scary

if we could read minds

because then they could see

all my lies

they could see

all my fears

they could see

all my secrets

and all else i hide.

if you could read my mind

i dont know

who would be more scared

you?

for seeing all my damage

or me?

with nowhere else to hide

I wish I could've read your mind -

seen all of the lies before you brought them to life,

escaped all of the pain before you left me for dead.

But I'm also glad that you can't read mine

because the next time I see you,

I want to be able to lie and say that without you,

I'm doing just fine.

We empathize with other’s pains,

violent hands clawing into heavy hearts, cries unheard by the heavens

Sobs of a cold body curled on the floor, heaving cold bile soaked in blood and alchohol

Shower water turning pink as it hits the tile, cuts that seem to never stop bleeding

Whispers compounding to screams echoing in the brain, profanities and cruel smirks tucked tightly against broken hearts, insults taken like revelations

vile potions and thin shaking fingers down the throat, teeth dissolving by unforgiving acids

We hug the victims, cover their ears and hide them from the slamming doors, because it reminds them of Vietnam, of their abusive exes

we avoid looking into their hollow broken eyes, sunken in morphine-tinged skin as we disinfect their wounds

I have seen a lot, felt a lot. The mind-to-mind communication does that. and yet, there was just something so particularly tragic about how empty your mind was, like the framework of a fire-ravanged home.

as you saw me looking, you smiled, and I felt your empathy for me tenfold

I cried and you hugged me tightly, but yet, your mind continued running on empty, occasionally so violently empty that the connection fuzzed and snapped and I wondered, for the first time since this job, just what was going on inside your head?

six months ago, if someone hugged me i would have cried. i would have burst like a red balloon with its skin stretched too tightly over too much air.

i would have let out a sob like a puncture wound and my whole body would have deflated and curled in on it’s self.

i would have been a useless swath of limp rubber in their arms.

i was so starved for any kind of intimacy that a strangers shoulder bumping into mine on the stairs made my throat close up and my eyes burn

those were the days i thought i was dying

i felt my body on autopilot and knew it didn’t need me

so i sat back and watched everything unfold

and hoped to hell i’d make it out

I was passing by when I saw her. A young girl who looked so tired but at the same time she looked surviving. Her clothes were old. Her smile was weak. Her eyes were full of stories. I came towards her to find the marks of the hard work on her hand, marks that shouldn’t be on such an angelic hand.

She was selling some bread, but when I saw her, there were no buyers next to her. So then, she was just sitting looking at the ground, maybe thinking, maybe dreaming. But I had to interrupt her.

I said:” Hi, I would like to buy from the bread.”

She answered:” With pleasure, choose what you want.”

I didn’t want the bread, but I liked how she kept her smile alive, although her eyes were telling a lot of stories. That’s why without I know I said:” If I could read your mind, I know it would make me cry.”

She answered immediately:” If I wanted you to cry, I would have talked.”

That was the beginning of a new chapter in her life and an unforgettable positive lesson for me of kindness, optimism, and purity.

White brittle layers

of the mind, overlapping.

Cut deep, and you'll cry.

#oniontears #Cry #readmymind

I’ve always wanted to read your mind. I’ve always wanted to know what you think of me and what the answer to my question is despite what you outwordly say. I’ve always thought that if I could know what you’re thinking, I could be better friends with you.

But if I could read your mind, would it make me cry? The things you think and the secrets you keep locked away. Like the fact that you don’t like me the same way or that you hate your abusive parents. The insults you aim towards yourself and the hatred you feel for your exsistence.

I don’t have to be able to read your mind in order to hear your pain. And I know that if I could read your mind, it would make me cry.

Fantasy.

Ruler of the world,

that's me!

Hit delete,

great, big computer

in the sky

and that day

had never happened.

The Bad die.

Maybe you would.

Or maybe you would find something worth opening your eyes for.

Maybe even tears would fail you,

Maybe for the first or last time,

But maybe,

It would last long enough for you to see clearly.

And it's the hope that you will,

That helps me hold the knife,

Say my prayers,

Then split open my skull,

Just so you can get a better look.

Maybe,

Because I forgot what the look on your face means,

I would do anything.

Even if anything meant,

Pouring out every ounce of me,

Until all that remained is a broken geode,

With empty lungs.

And maybe,

Just maybe,

We'll be able to see,

That the light at the end of the tunnel,

Was the reflection,

Of a horizon,

That promises a much better tomorrow.

And once my head is is empty,

It's easier for me to turn,

And welcome the dawn.

Or maybe you'll just cry.

And maybe I'll cry too.

So then we can turn together,

To see what morning brings us,

Even if it's not what we want to see,

Maybe it's just what we need.

"Why do you help me? Why do you help us? You have nothing to gain. Last time you almost lost everything. Especially with her! Why is she so impotant to you? She wasn't even here until a week ago. Just leave me alone. Someone like you could never understand."

"I wasn't always like this. Before living together, I was more like you. Disillusioned by life. I thought nothing in this life will ever make a difference. In fact, it would've been better if many people would just die."

"You used to think like that, " Mara scoffed,"when everyday is a series of helping this and that person. Please, don't lie to me. I don't need your pity."

A wistful smile adorned Rosas face,"It's not a lie. I still have the scars to prove it. I changed over something you might consider insignificant."

"What? Someone believed in you? You can do it. I'm sure there is something only you can do in this world. I don't need to keep hearing the same nonsense."

"No. It happened when my mother took everything from me."

Maras shock silenced her for a moment, "How does that make soemone better? What?"

"I haven't told you yet, but my mother is an alcoholic. I've always had to take care of myself. My sisters have their father. But I don't have anyone. I've always known this so i tried to make a business from anything I could. Then one day my mother found my stash and invited her friends to enjoy the night. Turns out a friend also brought some drugs. When I got home my sister told me my mother was in the hospital. I just had to look around the room to know why."

Rosa shakes her head.

"So, I go to my room knwoing I'm the one that has to take care of her, as usual. When i go into my room I notice my hiding spot is completely uncovered. There wasn't anything left. She wasted years of my hard work. Not hers. Mine. On her addiction. That was the last straw for me. I got my headphones and left the house. I got on a train to anywhere. I didn't care where I went. I was done with her. I tried to calm down with some music, but even that irritated me."

"Then, a mother and daughter got on. The kid had some drink. She dropped it on her clothes and some of it got on her mother. I thought her mother was going to hit her. I tensed up, wishing for a fight."

"She surprised me. She said, "It's okay. We all make a mess. Let me see if i have soemthing to clean it with." She didn't find anything. The little girl was about to start crying. The mother calmed her sown by saying, "It's okay. Even if it stains we can just add more colors." The little girls eyes just shined, "Like your coat?" she said. The mother chuckled a bit, "Yeah, you can even pick the colors for me."The girl then recommended some colors. The mother didn't seem to agree with the colors but went along with it. When she offered her daughter some suggestions her kid didn't even bother pretending to like it. She said,"Ew. How about blue , and green, and purple, and pink. But no brown.Just orange."The mother laughed and agreed with her."Sure we'll just make a mess of a rainbow. Why don't we do that with your other clothes as well?" The girls face looked like she had just discovered somehting revolutionary.They continued talking about different projects they could do. The mother even offered to make her a digital avatar in her animation program."

Rosa chuckled, "That was the first time I had ever seen someone react like that. Parents usually get frustrated with their kids and lash out at them. That mother didn't just stop worrrying about the dress. She made an opporutnity of it. If that's what most artist's are like, then I think the world needs more of them."

Through tears Mara said, "You're such a loser."