[CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNING]
Some of the following poems/stories are kinda depressing and may be triggering. Consider not reading these if you are depressed or get triggered by certain things.
PA
"Attention all! Attention all! Please be aware that we are undergoing technical ... hindrances, and thus our systems will be offline until further notice while we investigate and remedy these issues. I repeat, all non-critical systems will be offline until further notice! We apologize for the inconvenience, and will keep you updated."
Falling;Floating
I'm floating, it feels. As the air rushes by me, I glance toward the sun on the horizon and feel warmth. With my back to the ground, I can't see what must be rushing to greet me. I face the pink-yellow clouds above—those beautiful clouds. This moment lasts an eternity, it seems, as I think back on my life. My wasted life, my unlived life. Nothing worth remembering, nothing accomplished. My only regret is that I couldn't... couldn't appreciate what little I had; finding joy in even the smallest things and my saddest moments—numerous, those were. And now I am blessed with this clarity and wisdom. Would that I was in life.
Steady Rhythm
Drip drip, drip drip, drip drip, drip drip...
The steady rhythm, not yet ceasing.
Drip drip.
You watch, horrified yet unable to look away.
Drip drip.
Your clothes stain red.
Drip drip.
A puddle forms, trickles, streams finding grooves in the tiles and spreading.
Drip drip drip.
You are frozen, numb, hooked, staring at your reflection.
Drip.
Only it isn't you.
Find the Light
July 29, 2025
I talked to her again today! That's good, it was nice. I wish I could do it more often though. I wish it wasn't so hard too... What if they find out? Oh no no what will they do to me...
No, it's fine. I just have to hold out for a little longer. Just a little longer. And there's no way they could know. They haven't found out yet, have they?
Anyway, I gotta try to focus on the positive, right? We didn't really talk about much, but it was so nice to just not have any worries. She told me about her week and the trip. I so wish I could've been there with her... but of course that's impossible. She showed me a drawing she made, of the lake. It's nice to see her improving. Maybe I should try some art... I won't have much time, but it would probably help. Yeah, I think I'll try that.
Breathe
How long?
How much longer can I last?
My lungs are already burning.
I should've tried harder, done more. How long can I endure?
I just want to breathe, but I can't.
I can't simply open my mouth and inhale.
I can't do anything, this is it.
I CANNOT BREATHE.
I could give in.
I...I could...
I feel myself weakening.
I don't want to go.
My eyes feel so heavy.
I don't want to die here, unknown.
But I can't move.
Care
They tell me to sleep but I'm fine.
They tell me to eat but I'm not hungry.
They tell me to drink but why?
They ask if I'm fine I say yeah.
They ask if I'll do it I say of course.
Because if I don't, I'm worthless.
If I neglect it—the one thing I need—then I have nothing I need, no purpose.
It's the only thing left.
And what else do I need?
Nothing.
Who cares if I don't sleep—I'll live.
If I eat or don't, either is fine.
I'll drink enough, or I won't.
Who cares?
Not me.
Should I care, for my care?
The Voice
He heard her voice now, almost daily. He didn't know who she was, and rarely understood her words, but he found some comfort in the soothing sound of her voice. He no longer watched the stone walls around him, somehow finding them hilarious and overwhelming at once. He no longer watched them, yes. He listened. He could sometimes hear the faintest of sounds, lying in his side with his head against the cold stone walls. He no longer watched, yes. He ran his hands—why did they ache?—across the nearly-smooth walls. Each time he found a shallow groove, he ran his fingers over it, enjoying the sensation. Sensation. He had rarely felt sensations, yet now he was seeking the smallest of them. He was still lying down, he couldn't remember the last time he sat, let alone stood. Her voice talked to him, yet he couldn't talk back. Didn't. He didn't even consider the option, it never crossed his fragile mind. The last time he'd spoken...
* * *
Zack, you need to get up. I know it's hard, but I need you to.
Zack, please. Time is running out.
This Sad Town
I walk slowly over the cracked and crumbled pavement past leaf-bare trees and rusty swings. These littered roads and decrepit abodes. I glance at an open mailbox, piled with letters not-read, then turn to the windows shattered by rocks. No lights on, no one home. The shattered glass and open window, leading to what was once my own.
I walk this sad town, no one here, just their lives, and my home.
- Lily
