“It’s alright”. But it’s not.

It’s alright,
As I look away,
The tear in my eye,
Face turned away.
But it’s not.

I smile,
Knowing its a lie,
Seeing the path ahead,
Telling a white lie to a friend,
A smile, hug,
Kind act.

Tear in my eye.
Knowing.
“It’s alright”, but it’s not.

A needed lie,
To a kind soul.
Shutting the door,
Closing the blinds,
Leaving be.
A letter without a goodbye,
An ending abrupt.

I haven’t got the heart to tell ya,
Such a noble lie.
Kindness, help.

My sour reward to your kindness.
But you’ll never understand,
And this is exactly why.

Why this lie is made.

A smile with one face,
As the other cries.

But you.
It’s alright.
It really is.
Even if it isn’t.
It really is.


Been thinking a lot. My current physical situation, the future, plans, practicalities I cannot see ending well, people who care too much, lies I have to tell. Wrote a lot on my Moodtrack. My body is dying, the mind kept alive at this cost. Either way, loss of one or the other.

Writing this, thinking of the physical struggles I’m going through after an amazing night it with friends. But still these exist. No one ever sees me, the truth, because I always hide. A lie of myself, easy to tell if I believe it in the moment. No one needs to hear my struggles, pain, hurting.

One thing I feel sad about. My best friend. I always try never to lie to. But this cannot last. I’m walking down a path, they wouldn’t let me without help. But I can’t burden them.

A path I foresee an end, but would never burden them with it. My end.

This path, two roads, one the death of the body, the other the death of the mind. Either path, the only paths the same end.

What I do. What I try. My best. My all. Never can do anything to solve this.

One thing I plan to do, after my degree, is to write a story or poetry series or blog about it. If I make it that far. A story I have wanted to write for a while, but will put it off until it’s a story behind me.

One of the body dying, the mind dying but still dragging the former along. Like a dying horse pulling along a dead elephant.

All the practicalities feeling so bleak. I can only pretend for so long that everything is okay. Feel bad for the lies.

I feel bad for the lies, I have to tell to my best friend. They’re the best person I know, the person I care about most. Would do anything for. It is for this reason, I’m okay with lying to them in this case. For them as they’d never accept it, they’re too kind, too nice.

Was going to talk more about the problems I’m facing, but can’t. Maybe they’ll be left for another day. Or that retrospective post.

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