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I've always loved penning down my thoughts in the form of short poems/paragraphs. This is a series

on my thoughts during a phase in my life where I dealt with minor anxiety and bipolar (not diagnosed).

Short Writing

3; #heyimhere

Personal Work, 2018

Tired

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sleep. my body tells me to.

wake. my body screams at me to.

hibernate. my body sinks into the chair. concentrate. my body can't comply.

i am tired.

three simple words, but hard to carry out.

i am tired.

they say don't rest, test your limits.

i am tired.

they say sleep like a log, wake like the dawn.

i am tired.

tick tick tick tock, the clock strikes midnight.

i am tired.

breathe in and out.

i am tired.

someone call me a doctor.

i am tired.

i can't breathe.

i am tired.

my eyes are closing.

stay awake, a voice yelled.

i am tired.

i can't do this anymore..let me lay.

i am tired.

eyes shut, words stop.

finally, peace.

Full

​

these past weeks i've been so happy,

i almost feel guilty.

my heart feels so full, it's almost a sin.

everything around me and my life itself is a mess. but funnily enough, i feel at ease.

​

like i know that i'll brace through this storm without getting an inch hurt.

we're so starved by the thought of accomplishing everything successfully and with beauty.

​

that in the middle of it all,

we lose our most valuable asset - ourself.

and when that happens, it becomes the most unfortunate tragedy of all.

​

i feel so bloated with happiness and love to share that i'm so tired every day from laughing.

and when i look back on my day,

these good memories replay like i'm a bystander, watching it. and we'll savour them with a foot in the ground.

#heyimhere

​

let’s play a game. 

cross our hearts

and never lie. 

heads don’t turn unless someone dies. 

true, or false? 

i say true. 

merely because why,

everyone’s too busy with their own lives. 

agree? agreed. 

i sit and smile

but you don’t see me struggling inside. 

these words, they’re hard to say.

like a bird afraid to take its first step to fly. 

breathe. 

and i can’t reach out

you have to do this. 

and i’m panicking endlessly. 

just say it. 

i can’t do this. 

and i’m reminded of my friend who called to say goodbye. 

“please don’t i’m here”, i cried.

you see, i’ll always be there. 

for you. for others. for anyone. 

that night we hung up after 3 hours,

and i cried. 

for being selfish.

for thinking of leaving. 

because who was going to be there for you if i wasn’t? 

fast forward, 3 years on.

hello, i’m still here. 

haven’t gotten rid of it,

yet. 

still there, 

like a fresh wound. 

needing stitches every minute, every hour, every day. 

been feeling like i’m a third person watching my life play out,

like a never ending film. 

the other day i had a panic attack

halfway during class,

but i’m still here. 

don’t worry, 

i’ll always be here. 

hopefully. 

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