Sometimes when I'm tired,
I'll think that I don't want to exist
This life is suffering, striving,
And why should I continue
I hate the life I've made.

But there are other things
There are dreams
There is presence
There is support
There is beauty

When I'm in these things,
I don't think life is suffering.
I think issues can be managed
I don't think, really.
I just love.

I’ll get there someday, I just know it
I’ll get it right
I just have to get out there and
Keep trying
And refuse to compromise
With less love than what I give
I’ll get there but it’s scary
To get out there again
I have my memories
I have my comfort
I’m not ready
To let go
Yes
Go ahead,
Say that I’m a coward
But I just need more time
I need much much more practice
Saying that things can get better
Saying that the pains of leaving the status quo
Would be worth it for a happy love

My heart hurts and hurts and hurts
It hurts when I don’t distract it with media, or stuff it away to do work
It hurts with a low ache, a mourning
Hasn’t it always hurt?
Even when we were together, I hurt
What’s wrong with me?
Everything feels somehow wrong
An undercurrent of dread
Nausea
I want to throw up, but there’s no bile
It’s the thought of you I want to push away
Reject
Expel from my dreams and my memories
Why did you not love me?
Why did I love you?
Why did we do all this?
It’s disgusting
It’s wrong
The kind of thing that someone’d wrinkle their nose to
It’s just boy problems
Stupid silly
But all’s fair in love and war, I remember

You have taught me
that I can want birth and kids and marriage
You have taught me
that I can give myself pleasure
You have taught me
that mindfulness is based on curiousity, not belief
You have taught me
that I want security, as well as a partner and friend
You have taught me
to speak up for what it is my heart wants
You have taught me
some pieces in the holes of my past
You have taught me
to dominate
You have taught me
to receive
You have taught me
to massage
You have taught me
to climb

When you break my heart, it will be worth it, because you made me feel the whole of it again
You poor deprived boy, you are the tragic one to not feel the awe of love
While you see in me a book that has opened its pages for you
I see in you our happiness, our selves, our life
I feel like a medium
I feel like a clown
I feel like the worst *****
Who sold herself for her heart, in the rush of a holiday sale
I feel like I am stripped naked and returned to a truth clothed by logic and scorn
I trust you to care for me when you break me
You sweet beautiful thing

I want to tell you that I love you.

“I love you,” isn’t necessarily a romantic sentiment. “I love you,” can mean all types of things.

I want to tell you “I love you,” because it feels important to tell people that they are loved, and someone telling you directly that you are loved by them seems like it could give a lot of comfort.

Though if you panic instead, that doesn’t seem like it would bring comfort.

I suppose my urge to tell you “I love you” is an urge to wrap you in the burning thought of a strongest hug.

I want to convey that I think you are worthy of care, that I want you to feel loved, that you are beautiful, that I am so glad I have you in my life, that you push me and comfort me in ways I’ve never gotten to explore, that I would be there for you if you let me.

I want to give you a kiss on the forehead and see you smile, pleased and content.

I want to go back and take you and shake you and tell you
      “NO they are not right for us”
I want to make it so neither of us gets hurt,
   but instead we grow old and heal together,
with fewer scars and more time.