May 2021
Thought I had it.
I didn't.
Ashes of a Dream
lost. forgotten. gone.
Continue to Decaylost. forgotten. gone.
Continue to DecayIt wasn't sudden. It was slow. Each "maybe tomorrow" buried me deeper.
I stopped chasing the sunrise. Nights became longer, and dreams turned to dust.
They said it gets better. They didn't say when.
Thought I had it.
I didn't.
Burned my sketches. They weren't art.
They were noise.
Written in silence. Read with heaviness.
I don't remember when the light dimmed. I just know it never returned.
You used to carry fire in your chest not a warmth, but a flame desperate to be seen. You whispered dreams into empty rooms, hoping the walls would echo them back with answers. But they didn't. They never did.
You kept building towers in your mind. Each one collapsed under the weight of reality. Still, you tried again.
You said, “Maybe next time. Maybe tomorrow.” But the tomorrows got heavier. The "maybes" got crueler. Until even hope became a lie you told yourself to survive.
They saw your smile. They didn't see your hands bleeding from holding everything together. They didn't notice your silence screaming louder than words ever could.
You've outlived every version of yourself that believed it would get better.
And maybe that's the saddest part.
You are the monument to all the battles you fought alone. Not because you were brave but because no one noticed you were breaking.
And if anyone reads this and asks:
“Why so dark?”
Tell them this:
Some of us weren't meant to shine. Some of us were born to quietly burn out.