Climate - Whitney Hanson

probably friends possibly lovers but definitely not nothing   those were the three thoughts in my mind the first time your path crossed mine. when i saw those eyes for the first time. then i learned your favorite color, realized how easily you paint a smile across my serious disposition. i started practicing learning you. thinking about you a little too much in my spare time. then the three thoughts changed.   probably lovers possibly friends but definitely not nothing   then things started to change. i realized the love only went one way. i started anticipating the feeling of you pulling away. your sentences became shorter as my grip became stronger on the love that was falling from my fingertips. you took my smile as easily as you had given it. the three thoughts chimed one more time.   probably nothing possibly friends but definitely not lovers

they told me my job description but i think i’ve got it wrong. they said i was supposed to man the lighthouse and save lost ships from going down. but every time i saw the ships i forgot about the light. i dove headfirst into the sea and swam to save their life.   i drowned us both in the process; the ships never found the shore. i ended up helping less when i meant to be helping more.   i think when they told me to save people with my light, i mistook their words and tried to save people with my life.   i know i should have turned the light on, i know i should have taken their advice, but i don’t know what love is if it is not sacrifice.

i wish someone warned me how destructive empathy could be i wish someone taught me that i shouldn’t feel for you until after i feel for me

i’m still seeing shooting stars and you are seeing burning rocks i keep calling this complicated you’re calling it over you were always one to see things as they are

i tried to drink healing like it was bleach. i tried to consume anything that i thought would help erase your memory. i consumed books, i listened to music, i distracted myself by using other people. i thought that i could clean out my head and make these blood stains white. so intently focused on removing the stains, i forgot i was still bleeding. there is no use trying to clean up in the midst of a disaster. no one attempts to rebuild in the middle of an earthquake. you don’t perform cpr on people with open wounds. you can’t try to erase your scars when the cuts are still open. i’ve discovered that trying to force premature growth is suppression. trying to heal too quickly is like poison and there is nothing more potent than pouring bleach into open wound

lately i wake up in the morning and already feel i’ve failed. i know it is confusing to you and it doesn’t look like i’ve done a single thing, but please know that sometimes fighting looks different for me. sometimes failure doesn’t require action it only requires that i moved in my mind and my mind was not impressed with what i did. i hate to reduce my depression down to a hypothetical happening inside my head. it is more than that. it is heavier than that. but if i can somehow make you understand half of the weight or half of the reason i can’t move from my bed today then maybe i will be one step closer to breathing a little easier. if i can somehow share what it is like to be in my mind i will be one step closer to liberation. maybe if i can make you comprehend why i feel like a failure when i haven’t done a single thing, your understanding will somehow set me free.

the thing about the sadness is that it isn’t invasive. it doesn’t walk in on a beautiful day and suddenly everything becomes dim. it is different than that. sadness doesn’t kidnap its victims it befriends them. it doesn’t walk in forcefully and drag you down it invites you, tells you exactly what you want to hear: you are safe, there are no expectations here. it promises you rest at the cost of happiness. there are no chains tying me to sadness but i go willingly. i can feel when i start to sink again. i know i am not drowning, i am allowing the water to fill the places where i began to feel numb. i find solace in silence that comes from dark waters. it is important not to allow it to become habitual but sometimes sadness ensures that i don’t lose touch with my humanity, and for that i thank her.

i took an eraser and erased myself today. i like it better when i think of it that way, as if i was only a name on a page not a real person with real feelings and real consequences when i leave.   i wonder sometimes what the sunrise looked like the day after i died. i wonder what song played on the radio the next day. i think about anything- not to imagine the pain on your face.   but i see it now and i see how i’ve shattered you and there is nothing i can do. how do i take this back? i can’t rewrite myself into the story. i can’t see the sunrise i wonder about. i can’t listen to the radio with one hand out the window. i can’t help you. i’m sorry.   so if you’re ever thinking about erasing yourself, please remember you’re not just a name in the book on your shelf. your name is written in someone else’s story too. if you want take yourself away from the world, please remember that your story is bigger than you. i can feel panic rising and i don’t know the source how do i close the flood gates if i can’t see past the waves ? ~attack

perhaps the nighttime hurts because in the dark we are forced to face everything we can’t see   the lights dim and there is nothing to distract me from the fact that you’re gone i don’t like the darkness i am capable of. ~overcast

they don’t send ambulances for broken hearts, just broken bodies.   when help doesn’t come we assume we must break our own bones we must make the outside reflect how it feels within.   maybe then they’ll send help maybe then they’ll listen maybe then they’ll believe us when we say we hurt.   why can’t the evidence of my ache be the way i feel? why does blood have to spill to make my pain look real?   i don’t think the world should wait for people to puncture their skin to worry about the trouble within.   i wish we treated broken hearts like broken bones and sent ambulances for bleeding souls.