Month: March 2017

I turned my body around and refused to look at you.

She’s saying something – her style so hauntingly familiar when she’s about to break some bad news to you. Her voice breaks slightly, and then I hear the same from you. My heart wrenches in pain and guilt from all those things I overheard the other day with regard to you. I want so badly to help you but I can’t – not when I’m as helpless as you.

Your friends gather around you, they’re giving constructive feedback and reasonable suggestions. They are defending you, maybe because they know better than anyone else how much this means to you. I know, I know too. I know you’ve spent all those late nights crying because you felt like no one was there for you. I know you missed out on last year’s chance so this year means the world to you. My heart breaks with yours when I saw what you wrote – but your voice was breaking, your hands shaking and I sit right next to you not daring to utter a single word.

You’ll have to make it through. You must succeed, I don’t know how else to say it to you. I won’t be there to see you on the day which I assume will be one of the best days of your life – but I know, and I pray with all my strength that God should see you through. 

I hate this. I hate not knowing how to help you. Heck, I can’t even help myself. She’s leaving in two days and I have no idea how I’m going to pull through the next two weeks. I feel like I have just lost a major source of motivation, humourous captivation and a massive emotional connection. Arguably, I feel a crippling sense of desperation. I can’t believe I’ve said none of these to anyone, how I let it slowly tear me apart even though I clearly know there’s no practical reason for feeling so much.

Tomorrow will be a better day – but after a thousand tomorrows I’ll still be saying the same thing anyway. 

Just let me be. I’m saving up on oxygen, lest the day will come and I will no longer know how to breathe.

The quietness in the morning is all I need;
your clicking away, body slanted slightly towards the front of your seat.
Brief “good morning”s and some strong coffee –
to make up for a horrible night’s sleep.

White walls, and blue doors;
Familiar (or not so) faces and grey halls.
Early morning ambience disturbed only by
the rattling of your keyboards.

There are a lot of things I wouldn’t say;
that’s how this place works –
a smile to the face but thundering
keyboard wars and incessant complaints.

Yet, something calls for me to stay;
a truth I’ve been wanting to hide from all the way –
no internet connection and my phone separated by numerous hallways, but I
feel your warmth and I want this pain to slowly eat me away.