Is it possible to be too emotional?

it's been approximately a month and a half since i've had to stay up late studying for any sort of test or working on any sort of assignment, and i still have bags under my eyes.

i'm not talking about small bags that compliment your skin either, i'm talking about the deep bags that turn purple in the pale light of the kitchen lamp - bags that make people think you don't sleep at all.

i can only assume that the people who do not ask me about why i have such heavy bags under my somewhat empty eyes are the people who understand that there is a fine line between not being able to sleep and insomnia and they're treading on it like this kind of tightrope all the while holding more than just questions about the universe, but tons and tons of curiosity revolving around the idea of the end of our existence

i have also realized that there are so many ugly human beings in this world, so many inhumane practices, so many people who forget as a human race we are animals too subject to the natural rules of the world and there has been a voice in the back of my head constantly bickering me about animal cruelty and rights and wars and peace and death and life and i can't shut it off

maybe that's the cause of the two inch bags

I'm afraid to look at the news anymore
2. All I know is that people are dying everyday and mothers and children and uncles and families
3. Taking sides isn't going to help when everyone is a victim
4. I lit a candle for all those 298 people that died in the Ukrainian flight
5. I'm agnostic and I still lit the candle
6. I'm supposed to be on vacation but so far all I've had are allergies and insults and vomiting and cramps
7. I feel like I'm ruining everyone else's time
8. I want to throw up every other minute
9. Two days ago I was so weak that I had to inhale deeply every time I wanted to talk
10. Every night she turns on the news and every night I use my phone

My own self criticism isn't enough; everyone will always have something to say to you that will enter your skin like a dagger.

you've gained weight!
You try being diagnosed with ******* anorexia and then tell me why I gained weight. I look in the mirror everyday and want to break the reflection.

you look too formal, it's too hot out for that long skirt
I have scabs on my legs from the over sensitive skin that decides to cling onto me. Rashes from mosquito bites are not beautiful. People stare.

why aren't you reading
I'm on vacation after busting my *** for nine months. That's why.

you look worried, what's wrong
If only you knew I'm okay means nothing.

you're too naive to understand but you'll see one day
I'm naive because I care about things, because I won't eat chicken that I saw dead in a pan, because I won't throw away a snail through the window from the seventh story because I can't imagine myself falling, because I realize humans are animals too? I'm not naive. My thoughts keep me awake at night.

And all of their voices circle through my mind day after day after day reminding me I will never be good enough.

When it's midnight I find myself struggling to grasp the idea of change
You know, we throw that word around
as if it's a privilege to and now I'm becoming too scared to say something like you've changed or they've changed because I don't think I know what it means
And it's a debate because when I say it what do I really mean
What does anyone mean?

Change

Who's doing the changing? Have they changed since the wintertime when you were all they thought about, did you change since crying in their car, have the circumstances changed since people have moved on from each other faster than teams are getting kicked out of the World Cup? Has he changed since the last time he stared at you in his veil of shyness into a void of loud silence, have you changed since breaking down in front of yet another one you said you wouldn't for three hours? Because times are changing and even I can't fight with that.

People are moving and life is dynamic and sometimes I wish things wouldn't become memories but they do anyway and sometimes we realize that maybe things were never really different and maybe nothing has changed but your view of everything

Your misshapen view

I don't think I understand the concept of forevers and goodbyes. I just can't wrap my mind around the idea of lasts.

And as I get ready to leave for a flight far away from here, far away from the faces I know and the notions I've become accustomed to, all I can think about is

I hope when I go I will genuinely smile

because at the end of the day, we all just want to be happy.

There will be boys whose eyes remind you of the clearest blue sky you have seen all summer, boys who make you think that they will be able to save you from whatever hell you've been living in for however long since the last one left you.

There will be love when the boy decides to do something stupid like kiss you or hold your hand, perhaps just laugh at your terrible jokes enough to seem like he cares about making you feel good. He will piece back that shattered heart of yours slowly but surely with glue or tape or whatever else he can find like his smile or his grasp on you.

There will be pain, and it will genuinely hurt you when you notice either how in love with him you are or how in love with you he's not. It will hurt when he looks into your eyes and tells you you are not what he wants. It will hurt like never before, like no pain you have ever felt and your throat will get clogged and your chest will hurt and you will see snot coming out of you like a faucet and you won't want to leave your room.

There will be blame, to yourself and him. Him for breaking down your walls and making you believe he could be different and you for falling for the process all over again even after you told yourself you would not.

There will be acceptance and then the cycle will repeat. You just have to accept the fact at 1am that you no longer look at that boy with love in your eyes anymore but rather just a friendly fondness and you have finally moved on from him, and you come to a resolution with yourself that you cannot avoid the next boy that comes along with that smile and those sparkling eyes that seem like the life jacket you need to wear in the hurricane of your life, because the truth is you're always looking for that boy who will actually throw it. Each time their hands are behind their back and each time you look to see if the jacket is there.

It's comforting staying awake in the dead silence of your house at midnight and it's comforting to look at the moon and realize you are not alone but are made of the galaxy and each of the stars above and the great big world of outer space makes up who you are in a romanticised eye

I like knowing that I may be the only one awake in the neighbourhood sometimes and I like daydreaming in complete darkness sometimes and thinking about my future and how life will spill out of the bag whilst all the marbles of possibilities roll everywhere on the tilting table

I like pretending sometimes when the early hours of the day begin that things are different and so are circumstances and the past never happened and it's only the present because it's comforting

Sometimes all we need is comfort.

I'm not going to write you a sappy poem about how your squeaky shoes make my heart pitter patter like raindrops when you hear them hit the asphalt outside your window pane because they don't anymore, and I think I'm finally okay with that. Meeting you was exhilarating and it reminded me of the feeling I would get before going onto a roller coaster when my stomach would churn and all sorts of butterflies would make their way from the air I breathed and snuggle into my stomach where they would stay for the whole ride. Maybe I should have known that was a sign. I can't forget the moments where you made my heart beat so fast I was convinced it would pound out of my chest because you were different and I knew this would end better, and I can't forget the times that we would joke around to the point where people thought we were dating because those moments are apart of me and I don't think I regret them anymore. My cheeks are permanently burned by the hot tears that streamed down them when we were together and when we were apart and I don't think I've ever known how to truly feel not good enough until I met you and realized that I'm not who you want but you told me I deserve better and I finally realize that I do. Summer is outside of my window now and it may not be as promising as I wanted it to be but I think it's better than the storms that would freeze my window and it's better than the white that would fall with every time I cried and the raindrops that would pour whenever you told me something new about your new love. I don't know what to do anymore and I think we're probably going to become strangers but regardless you've changed me and I don't regret that and sometimes my heart aches whenever I look at old photos or I see old text messages but I remember that you don't keep your promises and you forget half of what you say and I don't feel as bad when I think about your scent because it's just a coincidence that you have good smelling laundry detergent and squeaky shoes and would stay after with me. I was a convenience when no one else was and I don't know how we happened but we did somehow and in that time frame I managed to slip harder than I ever have before but I'm on my hands again and I'm working my way up to just my feet. Maybe you won't be there to walk by my side, and I think I'm finally okay with that. Maybe my heart will roar like thunder when I see your face again in two months but maybe it will roar for someone else in those two months and will forget the melody it used to beat for you. I used to be torn apart by missing a message from you and I thought I would be physically sick and my knees grew weak when I thought I messed up and all I wanted to do was listen to sad music to the point where my bed remembered the shape of my body, but now I'm happy we don't talk nearly as much, because it's helping me realize I don't need you as much as I thought I did.

I think I'm finally okay.

Искам да си тръгна от тука

This year I've learned that memories can play on repeat like a broken record, even memories you wish never happened when you're all alone in the dark and you cannot stop thinking about them

And I also have learned that I sometimes wish I had selective memory to wipe some of those moments away; out of sight, out of mind.

But I don't get that option, and so I'm stuck here with the dark only to comfort my tears and as I'm left crawling in this empty space all I can think about is how I cannot be too loud because they might hear me and how can I explain myself when it's midnight and all I can think about is a moment that happened over two months ago?

Your touch still burns through my skin
and I can feel it every day and your words still attack the neurons in my brain and send the message of comfort whenever I feel terrible and your ghost still stays in my eyes whenever I turn around thinking I saw you and I notice you aren't there  

it's getting harder and harder to pretend that everything is okay because I don't feel okay and I know we aren't okay even though "we" never actually existed

it's scary to accept that you no longer care

I think I'm finally ready to shed off my old skin

I think I'm ready to remove the bruises from my heart and the scars in my mind from the memories that were tattooed there almost permanently

I think I can finally look at a warm day and smile, because I don't have to see you every day

And I don't have to see any of my mistakes anymore, for they all have gone

I am ready to open my heart and marry the pavement outside my door, kissed by the lips of the sun that didn't shine during our harsh winter

I am ready to dedicate myself to a single airplane and fly far away from here, to divorce old feelings and date new ones

I am ready to stop sulking over any of them, because they do not sulk over me, and I'll be ****** if I let them ruin my summer.

My worth is not measured by my standardized test score number. My worth is not measured by the amount of AP classes I am taking. My worth is not measured by my GPA. My intelligence cannot be measured by how many pages of a review book I can do and get a 36 on the ACT, a 5 on the AP exam, an A in the class.

I am so much more than these numbers. I am so much more than a transcript.

Perhaps the worst part about making a decision is that you cannot anticipate how you're going to feel the next day.

And perhaps the worst way to feel is to feel remorse, to feel like you are mourning the death of sometbing you could have prevented.

This is an open apology to all of those people that do not know what to do anymore but have problems keep reoccurring in their lives.

This is an open apology to a boy who all I've ever done is hurt, because even though he's hurt me he's been here for me. I cannot say the same.

This is an open apology on behalf of my defence mechanism, I'm sorry my walls keep going up and I always want to end things with a bang. I'm sorry when I'm mad I ignore you. I'm not a perfect human being.

This is an open apology for the tears I have shed for you and in front of you. You shouldn't have to deal with that; no one should. I should've kept to myself and I didn't and I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for all the pain and confusion I've caused you. I'm sorry I ****** up. And I'm sorry that I can't control how I feel and I can't turn my heart off. Because it's times like these I really wish I could.

i want to tear off my skin


i'm stuck in the pendulum of a world
that's purgatory for moments where i feel
numb and moments where i feel
like completely losing my **** and breaking
down into sobs

i don't know what to do with myself anymore

i don't think i've ever known what to do with myself

it's so truly amazing that the moments that you love and the moments that you hate
simply go away in a lapse of time and become the scars in your heart that
seem to define you

What to do when you don't know what to do anymore: a beginners guide to how to repair emotional impairment**

1. stop trying to force yourself to write romantic poetry and listen to romantic music like you used to and think about him when you write it [[i'm thinking of him now]]. the spark that you saw in his eye and the flame that burned through your chest and touched your heart is gone, don't try to start it again [[even though i want to]].

2. accept the fact that maybe that flame was never there to begin with [[but i thought it was]]

3. take every single **** moment you two have ever had, everything he has ever told you, all the memories [[and the hugs and smiles, the jokes and the laughter, the way you remember his eyes lighting up like lightning when you would make him laugh]] you keep replaying whenever you see his eyes even if it's just for a moment, all the stupid texts that he's sent you at one, two, three am about life, and try to get over them [[ignore that you've been trying so **** long already]]. don't shove them to the back of your mind because you're too scared to let go [[im scared]] and don't push them to the front of your mind so that you can just sulk over the fact that they are gone and ended and you two don't act like you used to around each other anymore [[but i wish we did]]

4. delete those songs that remind you of him [[but its all of them]] and get new one for new memories that are promised in the summer kissed air outside of your constrained bedroom that has heard all of your nightmares and seen all of your tears [[and all of the hatred]]  

5. try to move on [[but i cant]] and dont be afraid to let down the walls of your heart again. don't put your walls up to begin with anymore [[i thought he was different but he wasnt]] because you know that you have to be the strong, independent, beautiful girl everyone sees [[but i can't be her]] so that you can win over his heart with a single swift smile and eyes that gleam like the last summer sunset he saw

6. try to repiece your broken self and try to have fun [[im too damaged]] and smile in the mirror at yourself because in the end he does not matter to you anymore [[yes he does]] and so what if he is starting to forget you? you can forget him too [[but i cant]]. dont be lonely [[im so ******* lonely]] because you choose to just focus on him; allow yourself to be loved by every inch of someone else, from their golden soul to their golden heart [[who can love someone this broken?]]

7. stop with the "i'm fine's" and be honest [[lying with my smile is the best tool]] because he will listen [[when he wants to]]

and finally,

8. acknowledge that you are a [**]t, [pe]rfect, al[l]uring, [e]nthu[s]ia[s]tic girl

Lately, I've seen poems trending about how no one should fall in love with a poet, nor should they make a poet helplessly fall in love with them. However, something no one has mentioned yet is what occurs too often: stealing from a poet.

When a poet writes a poem, that poem is the perfect combination of metaphors and imagery created by them for you -- a compilation so beautifully intricate that you can get lost by reading merely a few words, overtaken by an empathetic tide that you did not think would come to the corners of your eyes when you sat down and opened your book or tab or paper.

This is the beauty of poems; they express words that many cannot say in any other variation of any way. Ask a poet to describe their emotions and they will beg you for paper and pen, a computer and a keyboard. And these poems eventually combine to become a part of the poet.

The poems a poet writes become a part of themselves.

That being said, it is not okay to take away from a poet what is rightfully theirs. You do not steal from a poet because you are searching for an idea, or because you would like to go trending. Stealing is not poetry. Stealing is not beautiful.

We are a community of people with a love more affable for poetry than for ourselves, and we should all respect all the pieces, because if we do then we are accepting and respecting each other.

So I ask you from the bottom of my heart, do not steal from a poet any longer if you have, or at all if you have not. Your pieces are your own raw emotions, not mine. My pieces are my own raw emotions, not yours.

I don't know whether I am full of emotion or just **numb

never did i believe that the biggest compliment
that would ever leave my lips for you
was the image that i created of you and who i thought
you were

and honestly, i think that might be the biggest compliment
anyone's ever given you

i painted you as someone who could cure every broken part of me
but in reality you are ignorant of this broken side, and ignorant of the
true pain of sadness - of complete loneliness

and in your ignorance you found a way to get under
my skin and remind me that i am a human and i have
emotions

you found a way to remind me of the flaws that i
cannot forget no matter how hard i try

and i dont know if i can forgive you for that.

You wanna know what hurts me more than crying myself to sleep
because I think I'll never be good enough?

Knowing that when he talks he says no one loves him, when I
have told him repeatedly that I do.

But maybe he's right -- after all, I'd consider myself no one, too.

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.

**** 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

i think what hurts me the most
about people is that they all
just sort of leave
whether it be to the restroom
when you talk or to another
girl who seems more beautiful
or to that boy who youve
always strived to be like
for her
they all just disappear
and it is in those seconds
those little moments when
they are gone and you dont
know whether or not they
will come back because
they did not warn you
it is in these moments
that you realize how
incredibly alone you are
as a human being
and how you are
starting to care less
and less everyday
for things that do
not seem to care about
you
and i know that failure
seems to be my
middle name but
i hoped that things
would be different
this time and this
year and some things
changed but others
remained the same
and he reminded me
of everything i love in
him and everything
i hate in myself
and he reminds
me of the flowers
in may and the snowstorms
in december
and he reminds me of
the ice that hit my
face back then and
the hail that hits it
now
and as he goes on
to do his daily things
i realize that i am
clinging on to him
because i am afraid
that every time he leaves
it is for good
it is for something
better
something happier
someone better
and that hruts
and its scary
and i feel so
insignificant
in his vast life
that is constantly moving
while i feel like im
cursed to this
feeling and cemented
to the floor
unable to move
for anything or
anyone
and if poetry could win
your heart over id write every
poem in the world and put
it in a novel and give
it to you so that you
could fall in love with me over
and over again but ive
already tried to write
**** poetry and none
of it is working
because half of what comes
out of my head isnt meant to
and i try to romanticize
these thoughts but theres
no combination of flowery
language and imagery that
can make self loathing and
heartbreak sound beautiful
no matter how hard i
try
and trust me
i try
i try so **** hard

i could give you so many reasons why you should kiss me
part of them being simply because i want to feel your lips on mine, want to feel our bodies pull together while i melt into your arms
part of them being because i want that awkward moment after it when we just stare at each other with a look combining oh **** and that was amazing
because i know that i'm worthy of that and i know that you still have a promise to keep
because i know that every time you touch me my pulse soars to levels ive never thought were possible to reach
because that's all i think about anymore, about a lost longing that seems to stay with me
because you make me inexplicably sad and irrevocably happy
and because in those happy moments i realize that i am genuinely smiling
because i never want to leave your side when im with you
because i have stayed here for you and you for me and youre confused
because you have to have something to convince you that its not her but rather me thats the right person to channel love into
because i will be the sponge that will take in every moment im with you
because i already am that sponge
because i think i love you and im not scared
because there's only one song playing on repeat right now and it says it all
                                      *"kiss me like you want to be loved"

my heart is an open wound that internally bleeds under the skin of my chest
and you are the acid poured into it

it burns knowing that i am not the one that makes you smile that way, not the one you get ready for, not the person you would drop every engagement you have with in order to be with

it burns through the muscle and into my veins, it makes them boil the way that you talk about her with a look in your eyes i know all too well

my veins melt away and seep through the atoms holding together a broken and pathetic excuse for a girl with too many emotions and too little rational, too much heart and such few brains, a girl who never understood mind over matter

maybe i don't understand it because your acid seems to work its way to my mind and cause it to explode in an array of emotions that spatter words across a computer screen

your acid makes me gasp for carbon dioxide, makes me crave self hatred, makes me vulnerable

it has created a beautiful intoxication of ignorance and denial, an extraordinary composition of atoms that seems to combine in the way we learn in science classes

and they **e x p l o d e

I                                                                                                                        You



                                                     ­         want



her.                                                         ­                                                          you.

There is an inexplicable sadness reserved for
the melancholy moments when we accept that the
one we love does not love us back.

There is an inexplicable feeling we get when
all we are forced to drown in are the pools of
sorry's that are thrown at our ears, mercilessly.

There is an irrevocable pain we feel in the pit
of our stomachs, things we never thought we could
feel, worse than any physical pain, worse than the laps
we have ran around endless fields of thought in
our mind, when we hear the words whispered quietly
and under held breath, uttering
"You deserve better than this."

I do not. I do not want better than this. I deserve you
and everything you have to offer and everything you have
to give.

But resignation to the inevitable is something we all
must learn to do, just as the flowers learn how to bloom
even after the harsh winter storms.

Maybe I will be okay, I just need some time to bloom
into something beautiful once again.

"I'm sorry"

"What for?"

*everything

oh god how it hurts to ignore the one you love
how it takes every bit of energy left inside you to prevent your fingers from hitting
that familiar keyboard and responding in the way muscle memory has grown to know
it hurts because i want you to care but i know if i do not show caring you will stop
and that scares me
but what scares me more is another type of pain i feel
because it also hurts when you mention her and i see her
it hurts when you two are together and the way you smile around her
it hurts the way her name pours off your tongue like the sweetest honey
and now im hurting myself to stop hurting myself
i am deliberately preventing myself from taking in what i felt like i needed
and that hurts

In a matter of months my life has changed, taken a sharp turn on the gravel road
I could have sworn to you I would have never walked, and has been bound to infinite
travels upon it's painful path. I walk barefoot, feeling each of the pebbles, even the smallest ones, stabbing the skin of my feet still too sensitive to become accustomed to the pain that I've been feeling.

The voluminous leaves of the trees have fallen to the ground and been covered by endless bounties of rain. There are thunderstorms everywhere but on me, or maybe I'm just so drenched with the tears of angels that I can convince myself I am dry. Maybe that's why I haven't totally lost it.

November was promising, but fall was too short and soon the winter months sailed into my harbor and have not left since. Everyone is getting ready for spring and I am here trying to cover my body with more and more clothes so that I don't have to be cold anymore. But I cannot escape this feeling, no matter how many layers are on me.

I sometimes dream the road opens up and I can see the sunshine once again, but this has not happened yet and probably won't for a really long time. The amount of passerby's I have seen have all taught me to think twice before I trust my instinct from being lonely, because right now only one person has stayed and the other is slowly fading away in the thick fog that I leave behind me from my delicately painful steps.

I do not complain except to the one by my side, as I listen to all the others place their problems on my back, speaking from somewhere way off in the clouds. I still hear them and I wish I didn't because my own problems are enough to cover the earth around twice, because her problems melt to the core of our sphere and **** all of the heat out of it. But we both do not say a thing.

And so, we are left to walk on. Alone and by ourselves.

a.* people don't stay
b. even if they promise, don't believe them
c. mind over matter is so much harder than i thought it would be
d. loving someone unconditionally is like cannibalism, because it causes you to slowly fade away in the shadow of their achievements. you have to force yourself to be there for them with a smile even though you want to cry
e. people truly can have only one best friend
f. and that one person will *always be there for you
g. life is full of disappointments
h. people don't just disappoint you, you disappoint yourself
i. there are mornings where you won't want to get up
j. there are nights when you won't want to sleep
k. no one except that one person truly understands you
l. hugs are the best medicine
m. they can also lead to streams of waterfalls gushing from your eyes as you realize you won't be able to move on from this person
n. "i'm fine" is the most common lie
o. most people know this, many do little about it
p. everyone moves on with their lives
q. everyone moves on from you to someone better
r. there are an array of metaphors that can be used to describe how ****** life is
s. people will not understand that the metaphors are not a joke
t. there are boys that can turn your world inside out and outside in
u. there are boys you will stay up with until three talking to, boys you will talk to all day
v. there are also boys who do not care
w. there are boys who will not notice the little things you do for them
x. times when you just want to give up and cry for the rest of your night are not few and far between anymore
y. raindrops crashing into the soft barrier of your skin cells are surprisingly comforting
z. it will be okay is hidden with the phrase eventually and not right now

1.) I led  him on
2.) if you saw us together you would think we were dating
3.) at one point I wanted to kiss him
4.) at another point I didn't
5.) we held hands the second day
6.) I remember shopping with him
7.) I also remember crying in his car
8.) I cried when I heard his voice
9.) he gives the best hugs I've ever had
10.) I'm scared of commitment
11.) he's now moved and I don't know how I feel
12.) I'm so torn emotionally
13.) this is turning into a jumble of sentences and words that mean nothing
14.) I've always hated attention
15.) this is the same year I've cried in front of more people than I have in my lifetime
16.) I can feel us growing apart
17.) but I will always love you, always

what they didn't tell you is that you will soon give yourself away,
because every time you see this boy he takes the whole galaxy and
puts it in your pupils, the sparkles radiating from each look you give him.

you try to say his name with a serious face and just end up effortlessly smiling,
because he's the boy who can do that to you.

you can't call him a thief, but you know he stole some part of you that you won't
get back any time soon. and what's worse is that you can't hide how you feel anymore, because you give yourself away.

you turn each time he walks in the room, you look up with that galaxy hoping to
find him sailing through the constellations, you smile uncontrollably while he takes
invisible tape and seems to tape each side of your lips farther away from one another.

and with each step he takes towards you, you fall harder.

sometimes i wish that photos didn't exist, and sometimes i wish that i could win you over with poetry, and sometimes i wish that i could write all the things i love about you and give it to you and have you understand what i see, and sometimes i wish memories didn't happen, and sometimes i wish emotions didn't exist, and sometimes i wish i didn't have to write in a single huge paragraph about how confused i feel, and sometimes i wish my heart didn't sink when i look back at those stupid pictures, and sometimes i wish that those **** memories would just go away, those memories of it all and the cold ground of a hall and the dark lights and the 3am and the tears, and sometimes i wish that i could rewrite my luck into stone, and sometimes i wish that you for one time wouldn't say her name when we talk, and sometimes i wish that ill wake up to a text from you telling me how you feel, and sometimes i wish that 11:11 wishes came true, and sometimes i wish that i could stop wishing for things, and sometimes i wish that i could forget and stop feeling the way i do, and sometimes i feel like im chipping away, and sometimes i think that you forgot it all, and sometimes you convince me you have, and sometimes you ask for my approval, and sometimes i want to shout at you and tell you it's all wrong, and sometimes i think about it, but i never do.