You may think I'm crazy,
but I find it one of my only talents to look at something mangled and torn
and to find a sort of beauty in it.

You look at a corpse and say what vulgarity, but I say what peace.
They have finally escaped this game of a thing we call life, and are
free to have a silent mind.

Insanity is darkness's best friend.

You see, when you die you go back into the earth
unless you are preserved in a room full of cold tools designed
to dissect you - cells trying to understand cells:
competition exists even in the most minuscule forms.

There is no beauty to that. There is scarcely beauty in the human race
except in the faces that are forced to smile everyday against their will
and in the hard determination of hearts that want to give up.

I find beauty in the broken ones. I find beauty in the soil covering
back the flesh that it has created in contagion with the stars above
and the universe held together by the small particles that make up
who I am.

Don't tell me that a girl crying herself to sleep is not beautiful,
don't tell me that a boy crying in a hall is not beautiful, do not tell me
that these are ugly people and that bags under their eyes are just another
sign of weakness; because really, the bags under their eyes are large
spheres of purple designed to tell the story of late night thoughts and
struggles -- the bags, the stretch marks, the scars, the tears, the dripping
mascara, the screams, the gasping for air

They are there to remind us of the effects of sadness -- and in that way,
of beauty. Don't you see? They form the masterpiece which some of us
call ourselves. They each tell a story, and when we die, they die too. They
follow us unwillingly to remind ourselves of the past because who are we
without masks and secrets, lies and hateful treacherous thoughts?

We are nothing, that's what.

And that is not beautiful. That is hell.

this is not a conventional poem, but it isn't meant for anyone's approval anyways.

this poem is what i'd like to call a soliloquy for one, one describing someone that means a lot to me.

first off, i would like to say that it's 11 and whatever i write from here on out will probably sound like gibberish. second off, this will probably be ****** compared to a five page essay of positive attributes she sees in me that i dont see in myself, but here goes nothing.

honestly, i dont know where to start. i'm terrible with words; terrible with writing how i feel when asked to do it directly. i have pushed back this task for a long time now because of exams, but the time has come and i can't think of any other time to do this. if you're reading this (yeah, you know who you are) sorry that i couldn't say this directly. a surprise is always nice

well, she's the sweetest person you'll ever meet. i don't mean sweet like symphony music on a summer's day; i mean sweet like bulgarian watermelons or cocoa, skim milk, and hazelnuts combined in a jar of nutella. i mean sweet like always has your back, always is there to smile with you and sometimes for you when you need it most.

she also reminds me of the sun. i know in her eyes she'll tell you, and tell you honestly from her own opinion, she reminds herself of the clouds that form on top of a town before it rains. she'll tell you she reminds you of someone who's broken. i'm not here to preach her being put into pieces again, because trust me she is broken. but, she's the beautiful kind of broken. she's that mirror that breaks, whose shards reflect in the sun and make a rainbow. she is the sun, shining every single day, if not to anyone else she is to me. her smile, her genuine smile and her "**** finger legs" are enough to make even the grouchiest man let out a relentless chuckle.

inevitable beauty comes from the sun. so it only makes sense that she's beautiful. i already mentioned her smile, but then there's her personality, her stamina, her charisma, her diligence, her kindness, everything. it's a package of perfect atoms combined to form the perfectly imperfect human. she is always there for me; i dont think theres a time she wasnt. and she will always be there for me, and i dont even need reassurance on that. and that's beautiful -- it's a beautiful thing. she's beautiful with all the scars on her heart and her sarcastic and sassy humor when she's done with the world; she's beautiful with her empty eyes and her lack of sleep. just absolutely beautiful.

memories? oh god. where do i start. well, one time we walked outside and it started pouring rain. the weather gods normally hate us, but that day it was buckets of water thrown at these two in particular girls kind of hate. we've talked to six hours downstairs multiple times, gotten weird looks, smiled with a face full of lies a lot. a lot of people think we're sisters, and what i don't tell her is that i'm honored that people would ever think that. if you ask me, i feel unworthy. there were also the walks we had during the winter, that were completely therapeutic. it was snowing outside and we would casually walk out there braving the flakes that were warmer than what we felt. and when it was too cold outside, we would walk laps in the garage. really, it's like we were unstoppable. she waits for me every single day (who would do that; waste their time just to accompany a friend home?) she's listened to every single time ive complained about something -- and for that i can't ever repay her. she's one of the very few who havent left me, one of the only people that has picked me back up. and she is the only person that has kept me up after that.

when im with her and i cry when she does, i cry because she does. i cry because i cannot imagine someone could make her feel that way; cant imagine someone would ever contemplate making her feel that way (*******.) she is so incredibly creative, the metaphors she writes are so strong i feel them pop out of the page and grab my chest to pull me inward more emotionally. my heart beats the rhythm her stories flow. her words are so well chosen with her eyes looking up in her imagination and not the screen that sometimes i wonder how a human can come up with a summary of the human condition in three pages. and she's empathetic -- she does not just get it...she gets it. she understands everything i go through, and i likewise her.

sister. do you just let go of your sister? do people just let their sisters stop being their sisters after a while? no. and i will never do that either. why? because she means more than the world to me. she means the galaxy, city lights, memories of songs, memories of garages and rain and nutella and records and knowing its over and latching on to people and 19th nervous breakdowns. she is literally a part of me; a part i cant let go. and i will never let her go.

never seems like an awfully long time -- it seems like forever. forever seems scary but not for me and not for this. i will forever cherish you. i don't even know if you're reading this and i'm near you or not, but that doesnt matter to me. i just wanted you to know, no matter when in the day you do.

i love you, girl. more than so many things in my life. i wont let you fade into the background of my mind or memories. i wont let you gather dust and draw pictures in the dirt in the back of my mind. you're front and center, chief of staff of my sanity, and i wont do that.

thanks for putting up with my ****.

love, sos

there are moments when i think i want you more than i want hot chocolate on a cold winters day or a nice book to read and warm tea when its raining out. moments i think i want you more than seeing my favourite band live, moments that seem so tangible i could almost grab them out of my mind and form them into something real. there are moments that i feel like i need you or your comfort more than i need the clothes on my back, more than i need the shelter on my head. there are moments when my chest begins to tighten and my lungs begin to close, moments where i think that i can't breath, moments where i wonder how i havent died yet. there are moments when i begin to fill my head with dreams higher in the clouds than the airplane we flew on goes, moments when i feel like i need him more than the soil needs water. there are moments where i realize how lonely i am and how sad i am because of it, moments where i realize that everything i want is too elaborate in my own mind, that the plot line of this fails every time because it is already written in my head and erased in yours.

there are moments where i sway from love to hate, from happiness to tears. but i read somewhere that means that you really love someone; someone who makes you experience that. and i think about that a lot.

They asked for drugs
and i showed them your smile

**** you.

im not generally a happy person i have happy moments but im not that happy
i legitimately get inexplicably sad and its gotten to the point some days where i cant look in the mirror because i hate the reflection
its like dreading every single time your alarm goes off
its like constantly feeling like a failure for everything and then just giving up
its like not studying for an exam that matters to you more than a lot of **** right now
its like realizing you dont know how to survive in life
its like feeling really insignificant
its like always being there for people but never being able to say anything
its like living in a constant world of fear
and it isnt getting buff for someone
its like eating food because you feel like thats all youre good at
its like wanting to cry because your friends are so much better than you
emotionally physically spiritually
its just
its like hell
its like hell every single day that youve become so accustomed to that its turning into reality
its like crying in a hotel room on the floor next to your suitcase and then lying to people telling them you cleaned your face and got mascara in your eye
its that kinda thing