Yes my depression is slowly eating at my soul, yes I'm crying, yes I miss him, no I wont tell him how I feel, but if he happens to read this (highly majorly doubt especially since he doesn't know this account) then I hope he figures out through his dense stubborn head that I really fucking miss him and I love him and I'm sorry to everyone I've ever hurt mentally and/or physically. I know I'm a selfish bitch who's insane and I'm selfish for wanting the one I love rather than the one's that love me. This isn't a suicide note for my body, but it is for my heart, soul, and mind. I have 2 regrets in this life I will NEVER be able to fix or change and I accept that so please let me be selfish one more time and mentally die. Sincerely, Ashley Capes
__That Cage__ You say you're trapped in a cage with no escape. You believe no one knows how you feel. I've been there in that cage of no escape. I was caged with a beast ripping my soul apart. My mind, restless waves, full of rage. Torn from my home, my pack, and my heart. Caged with no food for my mind and no water for my soul. In this cage, beside me was a single rope hanging, calling out to me. I won't lie; I tried. Tried to end it all, the only escape we think is to end it all. I tried; I failed. "Tommorrow" I said. Midnight strike the gods shot their arrows and down came the rope. "Not yet" they cried. Morning came. I went outside;. To my surprise no cage to find. There is escape from that cage. You just can't see the light. --Ashley Capes
There is a story, behind the way she pours my coffee at 7 in the morning. There is a story behind the way she smiles at me, when I leave the house for work. There is a story behind the way she welcomes me, even when I am late, which is almost everyday. There is a story behind those broken vases. There is a story behind her silence. There is a story behind our story.
Today, the gale is flowing in the direction of my transgressed home. Blowing away the photographs and reminiscent sentiments. I can feel my feet going numb just like my heart, so I choose to sit somewhere. On a bench, few miles away. I can see the silhouette of a lady; reading something perhaps. So I sit beside her. I won't look at her, she seems to be succumbed in whatever she is doing. For some reason, she appears aloof. So I resume my thoughts.
What went wrong? She chides me, like she uses her soul as a canvas to fill laundry basket upto the brim. She sacrificed a lot, she still does, I know. But, had I not? She is my other half, I am supposed to understand her, but what about me? My mind, is reverberating with the same questions, so I sit straight and look around. I notice no one is sitting beside me anymore, well atleast a living being isn't. I pick up the beige handbag she probably left in haste. What should I do with it? May be there is an ID inside. So I reluctantly explore. It's a bland bag, nothing special or atypical. Except this piece of paper. Why doesn't she carry an ID? I unfold the paper for hints. I read- ______________________________________________
I dreamt of a happy life today, again. The city is littered with broken dreams and promises today, you asked what went wrong. Well I will tell you what did, ransack my bag once more will you? I hope you are going with the flow. Now in that small handbag you'd find-
✓ A half eaten chocolate, forthwith you must be wondering what significance does that hold, well the other half belongs to you. I am supposed to share everything with you without whining, you see.
✓ House keys, you know, to capture all the warmth from the imprints of your memories when you leave the house and when you return.
✓ Lipstick, I am supposed to please your eyes because you are a man and I am a porcelain doll and my lips shouldn't be chapped.
✓ Tissue papers, your tears only matter. Mine? Well mine are meant to be soaked into the sand of a broken hourglass.
Did you find any ID proof? Well I suppose you didn't. You know why? Because I am a wife and you are my ID. I don't have an individual existence. I am leaving the world to cleanse the mark you gave me.
Now, I am not John and I don't know who Anna is, maybe it's the name of the lady. But I do know something; I have to see my wife. Dropping the handbag on the bench. I start marching, but there is something inside my head that is telling me to look back. So I turn my head to look for the handbag. It is gone. Like it was never even there. Now that I strain my mind a bit, I don't remember the lady's face. Not even a glimpse of it. 'who was she?' I sprint, as fast as I could. The buildings, the cars and the stench of hopelessness fill my nostrils.
'I see you everyday how come I never noticed your pale skin, sunken eyeballs and the dark bags under your eyes? I hug you tightly and enchanted "I love yous and I understand." I am afraid you'll vanish in thin air.'
There is a story behind her veined hands and the way she adds her name with my name.
There is a vastness in the sky, tonight That I've remain untouched by, for long.
The stars scatter soundlessly On the floor of the charcoal night. They've been too restless To remain bound in constellations, For letting us trace our steps In the endless void.
The moon grows with every hour It yearns to be seen, Unmindful of its inadequacy. It has been too patient to wane, For letting us feel an ease With flaws that we allow to diminish us.
I stare into this sky, expanding, Into the infinity, in which I've born. It hurts to realize it is too large To be enclosed in these eyes, That have learnt to see a smaller world With dreams still smaller to hold.