She was pretty and really sweet and nice, but she didn’t really have a personality, or as I would say, no backbone. The kind that is fragile, no stands, no conviction, the kind that would break easily and start crying when teased. She was conformist and would become someone else, to please someone else, the kind that moulds with the situation.

So, in simple words, she changed as time when on.

Mind you, she was a good friend of mine... but she taught me, not to be like her.

you are my cherry:

a sweet delicacy

among the glimmering sun,

a refreshing enchantment

among the buds of my tongue.

you send tingling

explosions through my soul

adding red-wine colour

and ripe honeyed citrus

to my sour lemon life.

my love,

i am bitter and cruel,

hardened by time

and roughened by heartbreak.

but your tangy taste has added

dimension

to who i am.

you have softened my harshness

and smoothed my tartness.

oh my little cherry,

we create flavours so

potent

and a love so

strong.

so,

let us stay as a perfect pair

living in infinite ecstasy

for i

am so much better with you.

(i don’t know if i could live without you).

i’m scared i am slowly slipping away again. and this is not good timing but then again when is it ever good timing? we’re all just running without a second to breathe without a second to look at the flowers we’ve planted along the way but my garden is rotten and in its place are thorns. death when it is the most inviting smile i’ve seen in weeks. when i stare in the mirror i don’t smile anymore, not like i used to. and when i eat i don’t enjoy it, not like i used to. god, i used to not care. i used to not devote 90% of my mental space to how i look and what i eat and how much exercise to do and how to avoid going to restaurants that i can’t search up the calories for. i used to not care that i had hair on my legs and my arms. if i’m being honest i just deleted that sentence because i didn’t want to say it but it’s true. because i’m a human being and we grow hair in places women don’t in the movies, because life isn’t a fucking movie but sometimes i wish my story only lasted 2.5 hours because sometimes it’s just a little too much. every single time i think i’m finally doing better, my depression comes back. like she was sleeping under my bones waiting for me to remember what it felt like to be happy, to be alive, just to rip it all away. now i don’t feel anything anymore. again. i know i need to study for an exam on monday but i just can’t. i can’t do it because every day i do what i can and it’s still not enough, not even for the one person who was supposed to accept me. he says he loves me but i can see in his eyes it’s a lie. but i don’t say anything because i would rather settle for bruises and manipulation than be alone because i don’t think i could handle being any less lonely.