Dear ghost,

I, too, am here with all of my anxiety. Riddled with vines of what I ought to be, and what I cannot be. I am yet to discern what causes this uneasiness. But my symptoms...

it trickles...

...

..

.

When nobody matters,

Yet every soul matter

My mind,

Grow weeds of thought

Hides the sun and drugs me

As I sleep like a corpse

My heart,

It will beat about my flaw.

It will beat about my want.

It will beat me up inside

"You are flawless."

Liar.

The cicadas mock me.

Even the bed doesn't want me.

Nobody wants me.

And when I like loneliness

Yet stretch my arms for a hug

That's when I know

I am anxious again.

HappySkull's Dear Diary