Dear Diary

 

Dear diary,

today I feel low. Not because

anything has happened,

but because nothing has...

Loneliness is a shadow that creeps in,

a puddle ever-expanding. Before you

know it, it is wrapped around your toes,

and starts dragging you down.

 

Like gravity then, it pulls you in.

Every footstep becomes

heavier.

Where before you'd bounce,

now you slouch

ever lower

to the

ground.

Until you're crawling

like an animal,

begging for scraps.

 

And I want to call a friend, but then

I don't have many of them. And to call

would make me a burden, so I just stare on

vacantly at the wall, whilst all around, my

sense of perspective starts to fall.

 

Dear diary, it's been a day

and still I'm slumping in the grey.

I just can't lift this gloopy mood,

it seeps over every surface,

like school days glue.

Everything I touch just turns to dust,

and I feel my mental state

has already started to rust.

And I'm flat, like a tyre punctured by glass.

And I want to call, but I have no attire

and I'm tired at best.

 

Dear diary, I feel great. I got a call,

must have been fate - just one call,

that's all it took. Inspired me

to open my eyes and look.

 

See, I'd been asleep,

same as I'd spent most of these days,

just spending my hours in between dreams.

And then a buzz,

a vibration from my phone,

a call - my eyes opened.

Alert. focused.

I left my home. And

whilst I may have been

awkward, and slightly low,

the laughter lifted me,

and slowly

that mood started to grow.

So now I'm buzzed. But stupidly tired.

I'll retire to bed, I'll need a lie-in.