I long for beaches, feeling the sand in my fingertips, getting the salty hair that usually  ends up tangly, but you don't really care about it. I also long this days where you lose yourself around pine trees, you collect little rocks that remind you of figures, maybe one with the form of a heart. Breathing the air of nature, breezy, you suddenly want to cry because you can't hold together any of your emotion.. The sorrow you've been accumulating for years. you don't shed a tear until the wind hints you.. and you blame it on it.

You sometimes feel loneliness, you want something bigger, you always long for something better, as passionate and complex as you are. You long for a hug and then you stop for a minute, you lay down in the grass, look at the sky and feel as if it wasn't real.

Are you even real? Is any of this even real?

I woke up with a feeling that things do get better. 

But, as the day passed, I fell, collapsed under my own shadows.

Felt that same ache again; of not being able to be enough for myself.

I woke up with a hope that those blank pages of my diary will be filled in again, with my words of my cheerful self one day.

But got succumbed by the thought of those lost battles where; I tried to survive; still continued to thrive; Amidst those parts of the entity, burning me alive.

But yes, I know I am endless; In joy. in grief. in despair and even in death; I would still prefer waking up again!

I would..

Certain things.. certain things that; Count in the life, have been written. Deep down, few were torn apart; From the entanglement, now long forgotten.

Hazy in their own hues, Dark in their own blues, Where they were born, where they grew; Absolutely nothing left in those clues.

Marked with their bare existence; I stood, cold and persistent.

It was as if nature had embraced me with her warmth, yet, I was resistant; To every single thing that gave me hope.

She held me strong to her bosom, I could stop nothing but the fear of vulnerability; Which I could overcome.

I trembled, but was not weak; How could I be!

It's me who needs to face the extreme, Blooming with an essence of gratitude; And my well nurtured solitude's gleam.

I owe it to her..

and there I am grateful for the small things I cultivate happiness from.