i guess this is why they call it a 'break up' because everything inside me feels like it's shattering to pieces.

i think for a long time i was presenting myself to my lovers as “i can be whatever you want me to be” rather than “here. this is me. take me as i am.”

be yourself | @heavyemptyheart

lately there are voices in my head telling me i'm not who i'm supposed to be reminding me i'm far from where i used to be or where i should be the distance between my thoughts and my dreams is expanding wider everyday with too many stories half-written too many songs half-sung too many languages half-learnt too many instruments half-played my motivation and my dedication never meet as halfway as my passions do and the harshest reality of it all is there is nothing in my way other than me and myself.

mama said i got a weak heart and my body too small to contain it she said 'listen sweetheart people aren't always who they claim to be' i borrowed parts of me to people who don't know about giving and i stayed up countless nights crying for souls that have abandoned their humanity so every time a hand reached out for me i gave both of mine in return  they asked for an inch i gave a mile with the biggest smile plastered on my face as they emptied out every last cell in my body borrowed on an indefinite loan so i tried to play their game only to lose in the end because mama said i got a weak heart  and i always live up to my expectations.

when you give too much // @heavyemptyheart

In this cold harsh world, it takes a special kind of courage to remain soft and kind. Build that courage. Be soft. Be kind. Be an example.

I cannot fathom how someone like you does not love themselves because it is so easy for me to love you.

letters to him | @heavyemptyheart

Here is a reminder to you all to appreciate your loved ones and the ones that matter to you and more importantly, the ones that you matter to. Don't wait for birthdays, anniversaries or mother's/father's/friends'/uncle's/dog's days to let people know that you care for them and you love them. Drop your damn ego. Don't just silently miss people, tell them you miss them. Don't create stories in your head and love someone all by yourself; let them know. Before someone else does, before life gets even more in the way, before it's too late. Honestly, you have nothing to lose. Apart from your pride. Which you gotta drop homie. Otherwise you're gonna spend your whole life wondering about 'what if's and I don't know about you, but to me, that's one hell of a sad way to live.

someone out there needs to hear this | @heavyemptyheart

when you miss their hands on your thighs, but not the way they never called you before going to bed; it’s not real. when you miss their fingers through your hair, but not how they stayed up playing video games all night instead of lying next to you; it’s not real. when you miss the longing stares shared at 3am on their tiny bed, but not the crease around their eyes as they tried to say sorry for the thousandth time; it’s not real. when you miss their legs wrapped around your waist, but not their pleading voice as you walked out their door; it’s not real.

it’s not real. it’s not real.

it’s not real if you just miss their skin pressed against yours, but fail to remember the many nights you spilled  your guts out onto the bathroom floor; the nights you held them because the world was caving in  and they looked at you with soulless eyes; the words that you threw like daggers  and your shared bed became a battle ground  and your love bites turned into defeated wounds; it’s not real. stop convincing yourself that it ever was. 

Get out there and find it. Do whatever it takes for your heart to be at peace.

Your life will change the moment you realise that no one is judging you as harshly as you are judging yourself.

@heavyemptyheart

Sometimes I'd rather write about you than to you. I'm still figuring out if that's because I'm a coward or because you don't deserve to hear these words.

@heavyemptyheart

It’s thunder-storming. It’s actually one of my favourite nature things. I know it’s supposed to be dark and scary and all, but I love it. The ascending rumble and the dissipating clouds. Maybe it’s also because I associate thunderstorms with lightning. There’s a certain beauty in the supposed destruction of natural things. The way the sky parts and creates cracking lights. It’s all so mesmerising to me. Perhaps I mainly like thunderstorms because they remind me of myself. Dark, loud and the distant warning of a catastrophe.

excerpts from my journal #1

my heart has not stopped singing about you since the day we met.

you gave me bruises on my thighs and i didn't realise i was falling for you.

@heavyemptyheart

the darkness, the madness i’m attracted to the sadness the discomfort in your eyes every time your heart aches the pain makes you insane  fills every corner of your brain  i want you under my veins but i try so hard to refrain mama told me to watch my steps when it came to demons like you but you take my breath away every time you walk into the room but you’re the devil fighting your demons which makes you an angel in my eyes  you’re so lost, yet to serene digging deep ends for a way to survive. 

- i think your sad eyes are kinda nice | @heavyemptyheart

growing up is realising your grandfather is not as tall as you thought and the world is much bigger than you know.

@heavyemptyheart

Sometimes I get this overwhelming urge to light a match and set everything on fire. As the smoke escapes my cracked lips and my fingers shake with the badly lit cigarette between my two fingers, I imagine what it’d be like to watch as everything I claim to love burns to ashes. This city is too quiet. 
This city judges me. 
This city doesn't feel like home. 
What even is home to me anymore? 
In my bubble of self-destruction, I even imagine myself amidst the flames. Hot, fiery lava just erupting out of my fragile bones leaving debris in every corner I turn. As the embers crackle in the air, I imagine myself thinking, “finally some noise in this dead city.” So I scream as loud as my decaying lungs let me and thrust my arms up to the sky. Then, I take a step out of the demolition and watch. 
Watch as everything I’ve ever known and could never get myself to love, burns to a tiny pile of ash. I pick it up with two shaking hands and lather it all over my body. 
“Finally”,
 I think, “some colour in this dead soul.”

homesick | @heavyemptyheart