It strikes when I come back home from a long day out; that dreadful feeling almost feels like nothing at all. I feel too empty, shouldn't I be feeling happy that I spent a day with a friend, or that I was able to get things done? So why is it that I feel worse than before? On nights when I feel lonely, there's never anyone to go to. But perhaps, I'm not only by myself. After all, I have the flesh on my bones and the hairs on my head to keep me company. How pitiful, that I have to lie and convince myself that I'm not alone.

Sometimes, I beg God to let me keep my life. I once wrote myself a list of things that I must do in this life, purposefully making it long and hard to complete so that I could buy myself more time. I'm so scared and afraid that one day I'll slip back to that state, where the only thing keeping me alive is the promise that I would go to France one day, live alone in an apartment in New York, and find someone to eventually marry. It didn't matter that it would be a meaningless life... as long as it kept me alive, it was fine, right?

I thank God that I have passed that stage in my life, but those feelings never really went away now, did they? It still lies at the back of my mind, forcefully pushed away so that I won't feel the same pain again. Maybe if I don't acknowledge it, it won't ever catch up to me.

I remember just last year, I enjoyed learning of the world's past so much, that I would look for more stories online outside of classes. I remember writing stories upon stories about ancient China and ancient Greece; you see, inspiration never left me. But as I grow a year older, it feels as if something has sucked the joy out of all my favourite things, leaving me with a void I can't fill. The only thing I used to love and be skilled at has now become by worst nightmare. Time used to be abundant, and now I can hardly find enough to keep up with friends and to spend time doing things outside of work. My life feels so empty and my future is unimaginable. Even the sparse bit of creativity I have left can't save me now.

I just don't love anything anymore.

I find it a little hard to type

I find it a little hard to see

But it's fine,

because although some things are blurry

I still see you just as clear

I had to drink a few glasses of champagne for this.

Do you find joy in seeing me hurting? Do you take pride in seeing my tears; which you rarely see? Is that why you want me to hurt so much?

You think my sister enjoys your company. She loathes you, tells me to stay away from you, she tells me to leave you behind. And I do, but I cannot seem to separate from you, nor can I sever my ties with you without seeming hostile in your mind. If I cease talking to you, you will go and cry to your ‘mommy’, once again painting yourself as the victim, and I as the villain. Always weakening your voice so that you seem weak; you truly are the epitome of deception.

I’m barely holding on, I’m going to fly off the rails soon if this keeps going on. But oh! Can’t you see? I’m way too young to die! I’m only fifteen! Not old enough to drive a car, not old enough to sip on wine and alcohol. Not old enough to abuse the vile liquid to the point where I lose my memories. What am I clinging onto? Why haven’t I fallen yet? Then in my moments of weakness, I tell myself I must live. I MUST live so that I can live long enough to tell my story. I MUST live long enough to see myself grow old, for me to develop wrinkles on my forehead and cheeks. Because that’s what I have to do, because that’s what I should do. I’m clinging onto determination; to the determination you took time to build.

I hate the way you smile at my friends, tell them lies about me behind my back. I hate the way you invite every single person to your elaborate parties, only to make sure I knew I was the only one who was never told to come. I hate the way you made me lose so many of my friends, of the ones I loved. I hate the way you bite; you slither around, then inject your poison when I least expect it.

No wonder I wanted to cut contact with you. You always cause bitter havoc, and manage to pin the blame on me.

No wish is more valuable than the gift of acceptance. I would gladly trade in all my gold and silver, gladly trade in all my gifts and ribbons for it; and even then, those would only be small sacrifices. I wish for the world to one day realize that to discriminate is to only leave room for more hate.

Mother, can you hear me speaking to you? Can you hear me asking for you to accept who I am and the woman I love? Can you hear me pleading you to disregard the holy words of the Bible for a single moment, and to grant me my greatest wish of all?

Father, can you for a single moment, not laugh at me? And instead, acknowledge my wish?

If there was ever a genie on this planet, I would wish for bigotry to end, for love to spread; but if I only had one wish, I would wish for acceptance towards my people. Because bigotry may end, but would we be really helping anyone? If love were to spread, wouldn't many still reject it? But if acceptance would be given to me and the woman I love, I would be made the happiest woman on earth!

When you hear that they don't love you, "you've ought to move on" they say. They tell you to find another love, and to forget your shattered heart. And you wonder: How can I forget when they're all I ever think about?

Then you weep a little, throw some things around, listen to dreary tunes, sweep some things across the room. But nothing seems to heal your aching heart.

The world will seem lifeless and dull for a few days, maybe weeks. But eventually... eventually you'll get over them, and they'll be nothing more than a distant memory.

The pounding beats your heart once made, the blush that rose to your cheeks when you were near them; they too will be gone.

You haven't ought to move on so quickly, you haven't ought to forget them entirely. Instead you must simply learn to realize, that it won't be the end of the world.

I dream of mountains of gold

I dream of having diamonds in my possession

I dream of finding love and stability

I dream of building strong relationships

I dream of everything I could ever want

But those are only dreams

Because those dreams are nothing but empty wishes

Dear Jessica,

I remember when we first had our first exchange of words. You were a friend of an enemy of mine. You stood straight and stiff, mouth sewn shut, you refused to speak more than a few words. Over time, a bond began to form; not between you and I. Not at first, at least. Allesandra became our goddess, but in my mind, you stole the attention my deity once offered me in exchange for my time. I began to resent you, your presence, your silence. My time was no longer favoured when it was compared to yours. It wasn’t until we were surrounded by literature when we really spoke to each other. You didn’t even like reading, but you put aside that dislike when you found a story that I had also read. During that single hour we were there together, isolated in that corner behind the bookshelves, we bonded. We spoke and for the first time, I heard your whispers for more than seconds at a time.

If I had the chance, I would turn back time to repair that precious friendship we broke. Parts of you, our memories, are too deep in my mind now to uncover. I do not remember how exactly the tight-knit bond we formed broke. I do not remember a fight nor argument. I do remember however, words being exchanged less and less, while we both began to fight for our goddess’ attention again. Cleared from my blindness, I tried to warn you of my goddess’ wrath and anger. You promised me many times over, that you would never fall for her sweet yet deceiving smile. But alas, you fell for her sickly charms, and traded my sanity and our friendship in for her attention.

I suppose everything does happen for a reason, because I never saw the worst of you. I never saw the extent of the loyalty that you had grown for your goddess. Your goddess, because she was no longer my goddess. I held onto you for as long as I could; until you flung me down and helped your goddess trap me in the pits of hell. You left me, and hurried along with Allesandra.

But I couldn't hold what happened to me against you, not after you uttered the word 'sorry'. That was because you apologized, many times over. We began to talk once more a year later, like an elastic band, I bounced right back to you and Allesandra. You know me, I never learn until I break; because if I break, I’ll never be able to come back. And I broke indeed.

We began to commit shameful and wicked deeds behind your goddess’ back. I began to laugh and mock Allesandra’s oblivion. You became my best companion over time, I began to trust you too much, deeming you as nothing but trustworthy. Can’t you see why it hurts so much? I defended your honour up until the very last moment before I realized you were not trustworthy at all. That’s because you had betrayed me, and I didn’t even know until I heard from another's mouth. Was that why you wouldn’t look me in the eye when I thanked you? Was that why you refused to utter a single word to me in front of the goddess I thought you had abandoned? You vile creature. I broke because of your betrayal. Tears that should have ran down my face many years ago, ran down my face when you confronted me.

You confronted me because you learned that I had grown bitter and angry at you. You asked me why, and I answered. I answered and you sent me a list of accusations in return. It was the final stab to the heart I let you deliver.

I accused you of things you’d done to me, you accused me of being emotionless, selfish, and non-empathetic. I attacked you for the times you’d wronged me, you attacked me for my traits. Tell me, Jessica, how do you know I never lay in bed wondering what I would’ve done in your position? How do you know I never tried to get past the things Allesandra had done to me years ago? You took the words I expressed out of vulnerability and threw them back in my face at the very first tinge of uncertainty you felt of me. Even at the darkest thoughts I had of you, never once did I think of betraying your trust. Only because I knew how precious trust is, and how unrepairable it could be once it had been broken. We promised to never tell our secrets to other people. I kept my end of the deal and you didn’t. Simple as that.

You do not have the right to accuse me of being non-empathetic when you never once asked me of how I felt, lest I had expressed it to you first. You do not get to preach to me about trust, when you yourself are a traitor. You promised to make hell more bearable for me for the years to come, but you only made it worse. But it is only because of you that I learned hell was always only a decision I made. I chose to stay in the dark place I was in, my mind told me I had no choice in staying or not. It was all a trap, because although the road from hell to earth wasn’t easy, I made it. It got worse before it got better, but it was all worth it.

My walk with you had been long and at times hard. At last, we must part ways not as friends, but not as enemies either. Let us part ways as strangers. If it’s much to late to turn back time, then I wish to pretend as if the relationship we had, had never existed. We’d be better off this way. Let us leave our hatred behind us, and let me treat you like I would to a newcomer.

Kristen