Look at you, looking away
I look above
and the sky has filled itself with grey

Nothing can stop the storm now
have worn myself out,
all over again!

What’s there to mourn
When all that you had
has been washed away?
Maybe it didn’t have to be this way

If only
I had been more wary
Nonchalance has cost me gravely

Everything lost,
Everything gone with the rain
I’m soaking in the remnants
of all that we were
Before it became,

All that we
used to be;
Once upon a May.

Little poem I scribbled on a torn notebook page in class, it’s called cashing out your sadness guys, it has proven really useful :3



In the saltiest of waters you will learn to breathe;
And strength shall you find in agony.

You are not a shipwreck.

You have found yourself in tears and suffocating lungs; have forgotten to breathe. You are drowning. The water is everywhere. Your blood runs heated through your veins, desperate to get to your muscles but seemingly failing. You cannot move, cannot breathe. The sails have all been torn.

There is nothing and no one to offer you help. And you do not know how to fix any of it. Not yourself, not the waves and not the cruel wind from the South and North and East and West. You feel incapable but it is so urgent; you need to save yourself from being shattered, you need to do something!

I cannot.

But you need to.

I do not know how.

You still cannot surrender to death. It is extremely important.

I am destroyed already.

No, my love. No. You are not destroyed. You are not a shipwreck.

You are a chaser of mighty waves; you like riding them to the sky. You are exactly what the storms are afraid of, that is why they keep coming to try and knock you down. That is why, love, you are so miserable.

Storms do not care about wrecked ships and dead people. They only chase the ones resisting, refusing to give in just yet. They chase beating hearts and life.

The tempest is most furious with the one who possesses the power to beat it.

Just reach out. One hand, one voice. If the claimers of love have abandoned you reach out for strangers. Reach out for the air above the clouds. I promise you help will come. From inside or outside. From above or below. Help will come.

Everything that is not deceased can be redeemed. The pound of an organ you feel inside your chest is proof that you are not past saving. You are not drowning until you have drowned. This is not the end. Your end will not be at the hand of frightened waves. They can crash against you, over and over; but you are a fighter.

If you have battled them to survive up till this point in the present, then you already know how. Once you learn something, you can never unlearn it. You have the skills of a splendid warrior, and I know that because you are here right now. Not inside a grave, but here in front of me.

All you need is more armour. Better armour. New anchors and sails. A new wheel perhaps. Reach out for it. Be patient. And most of all, do not forget your love of the extraordinary.

Trust, love, breathe, fight.

You are not a shipwreck. And you will never be.