I keep letting you back in, and it's gotten to a point where I cannot explain myself. Every single time you have a way of feeding into my delusion that maybe this time will be different. I think it's about time I accept that I might have lost you for good. I hate myself for holding on to a version of us that is dead and gone.

Maybe I'm overthinking it? But I couldn't sleep that night because I knew it was over. That night you raised your voice at me, I felt gutted. I replay every conversation, every silence, every goodbye in my head, wondering if I should stop holding on.

And you know what the hardest part is? You are nowhere close to the man I fell in love with. Somewhere along the way something in you changed. Maybe it was the pain I caused you. Maybe it was time. Maybe it was both. It hurts because I had hope of spending my life with you. For the first time ever I felt safe.

I know I made mistakes. I know I hurt you,and this the price I have to pay but if I could go back and undo every decision that broke us, I would. I'd choose you every time,but I'd choose you better. I would love you more carefully and listen more. I would have protected your heart the same way I wanted you to protect mine. I never intended to be the reason you stopped believing in us. I am so sorry.

I've defended you in rooms you've never walked into. I've held you with so much pride because loving you never stopped feeling natural to me . The people who know me know you and that pretty much sums up how much I feel for you.

I know you don't love me anymore but God do I wish it was that easy for me. I love you so much it feels like I have bolts of lightning inside of me. I wish you were gentler with me, not because I deserved perfection but because I carried so much guilt. Sometimes your words cut deeper than you realised. Sometimes all I wanted was to feel like we were fighting the problem and not each other.

Despite everything, I still find myself hoping you're okay. I still pray for your happiness. That's the cruelty of love, it just doesn't dissappear. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for the trust I broke and every moment that you felt unloved. If I could rewrite our story, I would. Not to erase the memories but because I'd choose to love you in a way that never made you doubt it.

Maybe this is goodbye, maybe it isn't, I really don't know anymore . What I do know is that I love you with everything that i am, even if I didn't always love you right my sweet boy. Safe to say I've loved, and I've lost.

~ Ashley

..and now I'm waiting for a rush

Lately, life feels like a daydream and I just wish that I could wake up. If there is light at the end of every tunnel, I am too tired to keep walking towards something I am not even certain of it's existence. I am literally in the backseat of my own life, trying to take control but I don't know how to. Even hope feels like a story I used to believe in. I hate myself for not being able to make this graphic enough.

Memories linger longer than they should and my routines lacked meaning. Sometimes it feels like the world around me is shifting in ways I can't explain, it's as if i am losing grip on what is real.With no intended exaggeration, I think I am going crazy.

The noise is getting constant and overwhelming. I am seeing things(literally) and i can hear voices too. Moments where my breathing gets faster, and my arms tremble and the world spins until i feel like I might dissappear into it are my new normal. I don't feel fully here, but I'm not gone either. I just happen to be stuck somewhere in between.

And with all that, there is a silent understanding that I can't go on like this forever. Surely God does not think I am this strong. I do not know what to do, who to blame, who to tell and this uncertainty makes everything heavier. Masking this while surrounded by people is an exhaustion on its own. But maybe I shouldn't have it all figured out and it's about time I shed light on speaking rather than dying even if part of me wishes I could carry this on my own.

Reaching out feels like exposure, it's like peeling back layers I've spent so long trying to hold together. I don't want to be perceived as fragile or even worse, to be met with sympathy that feels distant or rather rehearsed. People will never understand or reduce everything to something manageable while in my only residing reality my whole entire world is crushing me in. This silence has built its own weight, it dwells in place of what was once flesh and passionately hugs my bones.

I am slowly but surely morphing into what I was afraid to come. I am losing touch with what I am and/or was. I have an unsettling feeling that my time is running up. May the lord show his favour upon me.

You always do. In every conversation we've had since forever you always pop up a question ‘Is my skin getting clear’ ‘Does my hair look amazing?’ ‘Am I on trend?’

Opening up to you feels like a chore cause at the end of the day you will side with yourself. We keep arguing because you always expect things to go your way and ironically you told me that in life things never go the way you want them to, I wish you would listen to your own words mom. I wish you noticed I don't eat as much, I wish you noticed my grades mom.

Despite all odds I will crawl back to you because I have hope that you are waiting with a mother's tenderness to untangle my thoughts. You will approach me with open arms and not as a lady whom I robbed her years of youth. Maybe one day you'd understand that I can't solve your problems , I am a child. A human being of bone and flesh with emotions and thoughts. Not wishing me a happy birthday but doing the most for my siblings, attending to their needs and not mine, all this will never sit right with me. Yet I still come back because you are all I've got.

I am not the best friend you needed to maneuver through life, I need you in ways nobody can fathom. I was bullied to be a parent of children who are not mine but yours. I am drained. Why won't you see that Mom?

XOXO,

Ashley

The night of the day you seeped through my flesh, I went home with tears in my eyes. Your scent still lingered on my skin. I still felt your touch on every corner of my body. I gave my mom a false story of were I had been. I lied about my friends wellbeing and laughed it off. I went to the washroom and sat there. You were still there. Your warmth was still in my body. I was in soo much pain Sean. I did not take a shower, it would not hide the fact that I was dirty.

I stared at my phone for your text back which you did not. I watched the videos we took together that day, you seemed so in love Sean. Maybe I'm a fool? I had it coming, I defended you with my life Sean. I just hoped that you were misunderstood and what people said about you was false. On this very day you proved me wrong. It all happened so fast, the music , your arms. It haunts me Sean.

The whole night I kept shutting my eyes and seeing us. The silent wailing, the begging for you to unhand me. I should have stayed home huh.

Tell me what did I do wrong? If giving you my body, made you love me more, I'd do it again Sean. Was it really rape Sean? I will rest my case here.

XOXO,

Ashley <3

Everytime I stare at those tablets with the intentions of ending everything my mind tends to wander far and wide. Chiming up excuses to keep going. In blank default, I lack momentum to take away that of mine that is considered of most value; life.

I imagine better days that are yet to come and suddenly it relights my purpose on this earth. Regardless of having to lead a miserable life each and every single day , I am a firm believer of better days. What will my children look like? Will I ever get married? Will I move countries? Will I get to see the world? How long will I live on this planet?

Suicide is a very sensitive topic. It lingers under many men, a force so powerful is needed to eradicate. Looking at life via all perspectives and collectively accounting for the fruits of your actions. Is it really worth it?

The closest death has gotten to me is when a certain relative passed away. In real sense life does go on without you. Everybody will find a way to fill that space that you left one way or the other. The beauty of this all is that, all your trials and tribulations will be at ease. All that trauma that held you down for decades will be removed from your shoulders. But I tend to think of this everytime I hold a blade up to my arm, have you imagined listening to your siblings eulogy at your own funeral?

I have a strong belief that the dead do listen. Are you ready to listen to your parents wail as they lower your casket? Even if your family doesn't hold you as of value, somebody will have an unfillable gap to fill after your gone.

This is what keeps me steady in my tracks. This is what nullifies my actions. Curiosity embraces me in times of need but for how long?

For how long will these voices coax me? For how long will I keep having mercy on my soul? I hope that in hell, there's a place that burns a little softer for those that committed. I rest my case, for the intended depths for this cannot be achieved.

In my parents defence, I was born in a time were everything was tight. I dont know how to feel about that. If anything I just want to be part of a family. Being moulded by African beliefs and religion really messes with ones mental.

Having to be the perfect child with perfect grades and perfect behaviour. Having to guide others with no guidance for yourself. Having to mother children not of your own and always have a smile plastered on your visage. Watching from a far while the strangers so called family have a bond amongst each other while you exist as a mere shadow.

And as you grow older, speaking up is your one way ticket of being labelled as narcissistic and that you shouldn't compare yourself to your family; your siblings. Being gaslighted by words like your just conceited and think everything is about you.

Maybe I actually am dramatic and should suck it up like a big girl? I am TIRED. Birthdays to me are the most magical times of the year, the last time I had mine celebrated was at the age of 9 . I had a small party at home with my family. I have never received gifts other than the birthday cake, not to be materialistic. My siblings always have grand parties in hotels with friends and family and the gifts OMG.

I remember with sombre nostalgia talking about it to my parents and they concluded with the same thing, don't compare. Sure comparison is the thief of joy but I feel like they shouldn't rub their favourism in my face. In a few days I turn 16, no celebration of course but I'm glad I have two more years till I can free myself from all this.