I wake up to a feeling from long past, a familiar feeling, a fear lost. It's the beating of a heart lain dormant, of a person that I thought that I outgrew. The urge to leave, the urge to hide away, I struggle against it, yet I can't say. This feeling wrought deep inside of my heart, buried deep within my subconscious mind, from a time when I was far more alone...

I'm used to being alone, I know that. It might be easier for me that way. Not having to worry about others, not having to worry about my heart, my refugee instinct to hide away, in my mind somewhere it still likes to stay.

I'm worried, because I know I can't run. There are things now that I can't leave behind. I'm unwilling to give up, yet it's hard. Running away was all I once could do, I don't actually like conflict and stress, it's so much easier being alone, what I do like though, is this place called home, I'm afraid of again being alone.

Yet... that's all I've ever known, all I'll know.

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I want to grow, I want to change, to stay. I want to be someone who is not me, I want to smile, I want to be free. Yet... I am scared of staying for too long. Instead of wanting happiness, I'm wrong, part of my heart only knows to be 'lone. I cling desperately to this light you've shown.

As bright as I shine, my inside is dull, part of my heart can't believe it'll stay. There's a doubt that happiness exist long, only flashing once, ending it's quick song.

If only for a moment, a short wink, my heart is happy, so ever serine. If for longer though, it can't, won't, believe. It can't, it won't, it hasn't ever known, a happiness which lasted, which stayed still. The past me holds me back, gives me a hug, the comforting embrace of solitude. So cold, so familiar, so lonely, something I've known all my life. I hate it.

So please, if someone ever reads this post, if someone can still believe in that light, believe in that happiness, in yourself. If you can smile one day, not give up, then maybe... maybe... there's hope for me too.

I want to believe, I want to kill him, the me of the past who still suffers now, the me of the past who just wants to rest.

'rest now, your traumas have passed. rest... sleep... rest... I'll take it from here, your burdens, now mine. Adults should worry, and children should laugh.'

'To the past me... to the younger me... rest.'