He Was Art..

One day he told me he was dying, and it wasn’t cancer caused by the cigarettes we smoked out back in his yard. It wasn’t a disease he caught from when he spent to much time at his Grandpa’s place in that weird old town. 

He told me it was his brain, he told me it was bleeding, bleeding creativity. He told me he was dying, or at least the artist inside if him was. He told me that at this point he was gone. 
But I said that there had to be a cure, surely this couldn’t be the end. But his art was his cure, and he could feel it seeping through his viens, and out of his body. He could feel his soul drifting, his eyes like holes, agape. 

And I knew where all of it was going, it was now inside of me. His laughter, his amusement, the way he would move his hands, flailing them around and up into the air. His energy had danced it’s way into my heart and now he was worn out.

Because I took everything, everything but his sickness. A sickness that now lived within him.

 His art was gone. He wasn’t the same boy I met at a bus stop late at night. And I was kinda high but I told him I thought he was cute and his haircut was sorta funny. He laughed it off and the very next day he was sat at a barber’s shop.
And I could feel my eyes burn when they would conjure up those painful tears I deserved. 

I made him feel like he had lost it, when all along he was it. 
He was art when the whole room looked at him in awe, the way he would move his feet, that birth mark on his chin, right below his lower lip. The way he would slide his arm around my waist, and that winking of his that looked more like blinking but I didn’t fight him on it. 

And he was still art when his hair had grown down to his shoulders, when no one would bat him an eye, he was still art when he sat in his apartment late at night, he was still art when he couldn’t sleep, he was still art when he spilled his tea, his hands couldn’t stop shaking. He was still art to me.

The artist in him was still alive, because art can never truly die. H

Another Sleepless Night..


Another sleepless night goes by. As I lay in bed, empty hearted and lost, I wonder why I do this to myself. Why does it feel good to go through the pain? And why do the tears not destroy me? I find myself often bringing back the worst and the most hurtful memories, ones that should be locked away in a place unreachable in my mind. I dig through the good just to get to the worst. At this time of the night when sleep is just not an option, my brain decides to take me back. Back to the days I wished I would disappear, the days I couldn’t breath because my lungs could not adapt to the negativity in the atmosphere, because your words couldn’t escape my mind and slowly they were making me choke myself. The truth is those days can never really stay in the past. Every few weeks I wonder, that if I vanished into the air would anyone even notice. Would they even care. If I wouldn’t answer their first call would they be afraid of what might have happened or would they just brush it off as nothing. I also wonder do people really say what they feel or are they not trying to be rude to my face, do they have a different opinion of me when I’m not around. Do I even matter or could I just disappear and no one would notice?, am I really invisible?.


Hey, so I wrote this because it’s one of those nights when I feel empty, like there’s a whole inside me that just cannot be filled with anything other than darkness and pain. And what I do when I cannot sleep is I think, and when I think too much it leads to thinking about everything that is wrong in my life. All the things that i regret the things that hurt me the most and this just causes me to tear myself apart with my own bloody thoughts. So to anyone out there who does the same to themselves, or who is just having another sleepless night. Don’t worry its gonna be okay, it’s just your mind messing with you. And you are stronger than this so whatever thoughts come up, whichever memory makes you want to cry, know that it is just a thought or memory it will or already has passed. And you are important, you do matter. There is someone out there who is looking for you but doesn’t know where you are, and I hope you’re looking for them to. Because you two belong together maybe not now but if you pull through this, tomorrow may be the best day of your life, you might meet that person or you might just get a free gift card. But always remember you might not know what happens tomorrow but you are in charge of today so make today lead up to the best tomorrow. With love, H.

It wasn’t you, it was me..

“I never asked for your help when I was down, you begged me to tell you what was wrong but I pushed you away, thinking you would leave just like him. You looked into my eyes I looked away, you held my hand, I pulled away. You told me it was okay to cry but I said crying was for the weak. I prepared myself for the future, for your departure so well that I lost sight of the present. The truth is you were always there, I just wasn’t.” -H
Enjoy what you have now and stop worrying if it will be here tomorrow. Worrying won’t change the future, life is full of hardships but it’s also full of surprises. So let go for once and try to think about what you have now. Look around you, there are so many people who love you, enjoy every moment like it’s your last and don’t worry about what’s to come. I had everything I ever wanted, but I lost it, because I worried to much all I cared was if all of it would be there tomorrow. It turns out I worried to much, I forgot to enjoy and live in the moment and now when I look back all I feel is regret, if I would’ve lived back then I would have made remarkable and unforgettable memories. So take this from someone who’s been through it, don’t waste your time worrying. Be yourself, love yourself and embrace every moment, the good and the bad.

Like A Disease.


“Your words spread through me like a disease, slowly at first then all at once. Like cancer destroying my cells one by one. Your actions reshaped  me and left the reflection I now see unrecognisable.The memories of you haunted me, which led to unbearable  hallucinations. Until finally I moved the razor against my skin burning through my veins  cutting every branch of you, I fell to the ground unconscious, ending it all.” -H