One

by

one.

People sign off.
One after another
they say good night.

Now it's time for

one

versus

self.

I'm troubled
at the thought
of facing myself.

I wear my darkest
shade of sorrow
to bed.

Putting my phone down
would reveal a deafening silence.
It's finally quiet? Like I've been begging for?

Only now, you see,
is when my biggest fears
begin to scream at me.

An overwhelming sense of dread
finds a way to overpower
sensibilities' pleas for peace.

What do all my friends really think of me?
I wonder - if they took what I said the wrong way.
What do I have to do tomorrow?
I wonder - if I'll skip class, again.
What does it take? To find the love I deserve.
I wonder - if he's missing me too.

Sensibility manages its last
war cry, but sorry!
Dread wins again.

Great - another night subject
to endless contemplation
of fabricated instances.

As Thomas Shelby once said,
"I know what this is,
it's myself, talking to myself,
about myself".

Eventually, I fall asleep.
Dreaming of a reality where
sensibility will always prevail.

Be kind,
Evangeline.

a/n: Quote taken from Peaky Blinders (2013).