I have been told that I am stupid, in love.
I don't know if I'm stupid, or simply in love.
Either way, I have no clue what I am doing,
But when others try to advise me what to do it goes in one ear and out the other, like things do when your parents lecture you,
Because in all honesty, I don't want to hear it.
I understand, yes, you love me, watching me break down isn't fun, watching my sanity slowly ebb away like the light of the sun in the evening is not easy,
But I need you to understand, I am in love, and love makes us do stupid things, but I am not stupid for loving who I do.
Because this love is true, and something I will be holding onto.
Mistakes may be made, and yes, they might play themselves on repeat,
And yes, forgiving them over and over is a feat, but I need you to listen to me.
I have never loved this much, I had always been either sad or numb,
And he is the one who changed that, he's the one who didn't make me feel fat, for once, he's the one who accepts my flaws and holds on when I am afraid and try to run away, he is the one who loves me back, and I am not willing to loose that.
So if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all
Because I will be holding on, and I need you to respect that, or step back.

I reflect on my recent youth,
And realize,
I chase empty husks,
Seeking a love I’ve never felt.
I suppose I have always known,
Always seen that I seek home in others.
Perhaps it was home,
Once,
Or twice,
But if it was,
It was built in lust,
And their luck.
An object in their eyes,
And they a god in mine-
Not once did I fall because it was convenient,
It was quite the contrary,
Really.
My lust is a reflex,
A cry for love,
Not this petty game,
Of white lies I am often subjected to.
Feeding into your fantasies,
To get what they seek.
I feel like a plaything,
That sweet, behaved BabyDoll.
A pawn on their tabletop
And willingly, too,
Title upon my collar.
Ashamed, I am,
Of this toy I become,
For boys who claim to be in love.

I am rather emotional, and honestly, you all probably already know that.
Each of you has probably seen me cry once,
Or so full of rage that silence was never an option.
Some would say that this makes me too much to handle,
That I need to control myself.
But how I am now, is better than how I used to be.
The screaming and the yelling and the crying and the falling apart,
It's all so much better than sitting in my room at night, unable to sleep, my mind racing, but my heart numb.
It is so much better than being unable to smile a real smile,
It is so much better than despising my life and everything within it.
I'd rather fall apart over something small than be unable to shed a tear over something big.
And maybe I look crazy,
Maybe I am out of control,
But at least I feel whole.