01SonAmy01

 Just a note to say... I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. Yes, I knew you would be hurt, but I didn't feel like I had a choice. I don't want to think that it ended bitterly. It feels a bit like it has, and for that I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I hate to think of you thinking of me badly, hating me. I hope you don't. I don't hate you. It just didn't work out, but I hope you're okay. I hope you're as happy and healthy as you can be. I wish you all the best.

Please don’t. Please don’t let yourself slip into the darkness. You can escape from it. You honestly can recover from anything, no matter how hard it gets. I know you can. I have never been so stubbornly sure of anything. Please, Be the person that you want to be. You can be that strong survivor that you heard about. You can be that person that got through it. You can. Please believe that. Please. Please have faith in yourself. Life is so incredible. It is the greatest mystery, filled with celebration and achievement and connection and feeling, and everything wonderful and tragic all in one place. It is not perfect, but that is

Stupid Moments Stupid moments. That’s what I call them. A temporary relapse of the mind. Moments where my brain just ceases to function as it should do, And I end up thinking the most ridiculous things. Moments where I allow doubt to creep up on me, Though I know it has no place in my mind. Moments where, rather than thinking about how I really, truly feel, I think about all of the ‘what if’s and the ‘but’s. Where my mind is usually strong and forceful, It is suddenly overcome by irrationalities, Like a dam allowing itself to break from a tiny droplet of water. What if he gets annoyed with me? What if he t

 Whenever I Walk Down Brighton Road Whenever I walk down Brighton Road, I am reminded of that day. I can once again hear my breathing quivering in my throat as I hurried, half way between walking and running. Half way between terrified and excited. I can feel my heartbeat racing as I clenched and unclenched my fingers into sweaty palms. I can see the brown envelope that I'd shoved the letter into in a rush, hardly taking notice of its appearance. The word 'private' is written on the front in capital letters, with the occasional gap in the print to give the impression of a stamp. It's a pitiful attempt, and the work of a delusional thirteen-y

Goodbye, the Best Days of My Life Waking up at 6am every morning and almost falling asleep with my face in my cereal. Waiting an eternity for a 466 bus that actually wasn't a human sardine tin. Grumpy bus driver, noisy kids, the twins who never left us alone. Walking to school and moaning about the distance. Taking off our coats, muttering about stupid rules. Arriving just as the bell rings, cursing the sound. Rushing to lesson, cursing our bad health. Putting our planners on desks, sighing. Listening to equations and language devices and effects of the chemical elements. Whining about boredom, insisting that any kind of work is po