the birds are yelling rather than chirping, almost mocking me.
every time I try to close my eyes, it's like ever inch of energy in my body wants to pull my eyelids back open.
each attempt to sleep is just a long blink.
there's a point in time in the middle of the night where you just think to yourself
"why?"
why in gods name am I awake, most importantly,
but why do my emotions do an intricate ballet dance of grand jetes and pirouettes as the sun rises?
why can't I tell the difference between buzzing from the coffee I mistakingly had at 8pm last night and trembling in fear?
why was I born where I was?
why have I met who I have met?
why is the human brain so incredible yet so ****** up at the same time?
whenever the world gets to me I shut down.
oxygen turns into anesthesia and my bedroom turns into an icebox. all I can feel is nothing.
a grey-blue leaks through the cracks of my blinds, but my tired eyes register it as fluorescent. the only color in my life right now.
the world is grey but the sky is a blinking neon sign, reading "now open: Alexa's never ending emotions."
I read some fact online saying that a single file line of the Chinese population would never truly end.
I'm laying in bed, counting Chinese sheep.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 11:59 PM UTC
tomorrow I'll have to see you again
and act like what you've said didn't leave wounds with scar tissue pinker than my cheeks when our eyes meet
I'll act like I didn't go on a drunken rant tonight alone in my living room about how you make me feel like love will never reach me
I'll act like I never do look forward to seeing your face everyday, and felt like Im missing something when I don't
oh, let's be as blunt as you are,
I'll act like I'm trying not to impress you anymore.
you act so humble and meek, despite being ~fearless~ enough to speak your mind to me
you act like neither my body or mind is captivating, and this isn't arrogance, just me finding the confidence in attempt to shield myself from your ignorance
you act as if it's no big deal that I'm one of your only female friends who doesn't put on a show for every guy she meets, full of anything but genuine theatrics
I keep that **** on the stage, where it belongs for both of us.
I mean, acting is what we both do best, right?
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 12:00 AM UTC
we could make people cloudy with confusion yet emerald with envy.
and that's what I love.
it seems so taboo at first glance.
but if you dig through the dirt on the surface then you'll find what hasn't been found in years;
my happiness.
I never try to let a single person determine my happiness but god **** it you're all what fits in the key hole of my personality.
and because of you I've opened up and determined what falling in love truly is to me. neither Webster dictionary or a google search could even define it until I met you.
this all sounds like some sort of cheesy passage from a Nicholas Sparks or John green book that we'd both laugh over, but love makes people do out of the ordinary things.
to me, falling in love is when you become so utterly intoxicated by how happy somebody makes you that your whole life is changed for the better. you're hard liquor, and you know how much I love things I'm not supposed to have.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:50 PM UTC
there are nights where I feel on top of the world,
and there are nights where I feel like I'm sinking to rock bottom.
nowadays I usually deal with the ladder and I can't find a latter to climb back to the top.
I know I should **** it up.
people leave.
people forget.
people who make your eyes illuminate don't bat an eye at the sound of your name.
it's all the same.
I don't know why I keep coming back.
back to the same thoughts.
back to the same people.
back to the same bed at night, a Petri dish for horrendous thoughts to grow and multiply.
I know it's just another bad night; another night of wondering if things will change in the 5 hours of tainted sleep I'll get.
but what's it going to take to claw my way back up to feeling at least content?
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 9:47 PM UTC
I get nostalgic over photographs and my baby shoes, but I don't know how to compare that to how much I'm missing you.
But the thing is you're living your life, meeting new people. And to you, I'm just another fading photograph or shoe that you grew out of.
It ***** knowing that I somehow always get what I want, but only for a short period of time.
I wanted to get close to you, truly know who you are. And I did, but only for a while. Now I don't know if I ever cross your mind and make you smile.
In fact, I don't know if I ever cross your mind at all. But the amount of times you cross mine makes up for it.
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
It's the middle of the night and all I can think about is how disappointed I am in myself. I haven't felt this broken and miserable in such a long time.
Or maybe I've been feeling this way forever and I've just been denying it.
Face it, every meltdown at therapy, every time I felt like a misfit leaving the psychologist office, every "calm down Alexa" I've said to myself--it's all proof.
Or maybe it's just a couple bad days here and there.
But then again, that's what I used to tell myself when I truly was hurting. Even though that's like looking at a stab wound and saying "it's just a paper cut."
If bad days are paper cuts, then I have too many **** paper cuts and not enough bandages.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
July 11th, 2014. I saw you.
I mustered up the nerve to talk to you. I didn't think I'd ever see you again.
July 19th, 2014. Well, I saw you again.
And you knew who I was. My heart skipped maybe 10 beats when I heard you say "Yeah, I remember you!"
November 23, 2014. I was the one who purposely saw you.
We had somewhat kept in touch, even though I desired more than just "keeping in touch." You made me feel alive.
January 18th, 2015. Most likely the last time I could say that I saw you.
We didn't talk, but you looking me right in the eyes and smiling, that made up for it.
February 2015. You said "I miss you, darling."
March 2015. You said "Your voice sounds beautiful, darling."
"Make me happy, darling."
"You should be happy I'm talking to you, darling."
"It makes me sad when you don't do what I want, darling."
April 2015. Silence. I couldn't tell if the guilt you made me feel made me miss you more or less.
May 2015. Exposed. I was a victim of your mind games. I wasn't the only one. Someone broke the silence that broke your success.
May 2015. You say "I'm embarrassed."
I say "so am I."
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
whenever I try to write poetry, I have a tendency to make things more minuscule than they really are.
I don't let my true colors show in fear that someone may notice how I really am feeling.
Because I like to convince myself that I'm fine. I convince myself that I'm better than I was two years ago.
And maybe I am. Maybe this is as happy as I'm going to get. That is, if happiness means having anxiety attacks at parties or crying over the small flaws of my day.
Happiness might also be letting people use me and reject me. If that's what happiness is, then I'm over the moon.
Face the facts. I'm talking to you. And me. And everyone in between.
Broken.
Notice I didn't say "I'm broken." Or "you're broken." Or "we're broken."
That's because it's for you to decide. You have to be true to yourself.
Broken.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 11:10 PM UTC
When I was little, I had a big fear of stages. I was afraid of falling off of them.
When I was little, I also had my first dance recital. That's the day I realized that the stage is my friend.
I got a little bit older, but I was still young enough to watch Disney channel. This was the era of movies filled with song and dance. My role model was Miley Cyrus, and she was the one who made me think, "I want to become an actress."
Fast forward a few years. Middle school. I had the lead role in all the school plays I was a part of. I had never done a musical. I admired them, but I didn't have the guts.
But, I had to keep in mind, "the stage is my friend."
And I realized that right away as I did my first ever musical when I was in 7th grade.
I've never smiled as big as I do when I see hundreds of faces all smiling and cheering for us performers. Never have I heard someone say, "musicals make me miserable."
The opening night of my first official musical in high school, I had a little girl come up to me, big smile on her face, asking me to sign her program.
I didn't get the chance to tell her it, but kid, if you happen to see this one day, just remember.
The stage is your friend.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
I've never felt like I belong.
Whenever a sense of hope comes along that makes me feel accepted or befriended, it burns up, leaving behind the ashes for me to clean up. It leaves me wondering, "where did I go wrong?"
I'll sit on the couch at parties, hoping for that one person to notice the underdog and maybe try to make conversation. I expect people to bandage up my feelings, but these people I interact with, they aren't my nurses.
When people ask who my best friend is, I wonder if it'd be an acceptable answer if I said myself.
But I find myself at midnight, staring at the ceiling, mind full of regret, wondering, "what did I do to make these people shut me out?"
"Where did I go wrong?"
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC