it's all these feelings
welling up inside me
that make it impossible
to sleep at night.
it's all these memories
of what you did to me
that make it impossible
to cry for you.
it's all this confusion--
am i supposed to or not--
that's making it impossible
to let you go.

i wish it wasn't like this.

22 years old.
but sometimes i feel
the childishness rising within
to the surface
and all i can do is
be a child again.

i scrape my knee:
it's bruised and bleeding.
i cut my finger:
it stings and hurts.
i'm scared of the dark:
I sleep with my Sock Monkey.

Children don't have insomnia.
22 year old's do.
i do.

it's like that song.
"i'm waiting in the dark/ thought that you'd be here by now."
no one's here. you're not here.
i'm alone.

A phone call from someone who loves me
and i love him.
never a call from you though.
never a card, an email, a note
that says you're ok.

and i think to myself
all those years
all those months
all those weeks
all those days
all those hours
all those minutes
all those seconds
all those moments
all those slaps
all those kicks
all those lectures
all those screams
all those punches
all those kisses
all those "i love you"s

i think to myself
i don't want any of it back.
you took all that from me
and i don't want it back.
i don't want you back.

i don't want the pain
i don't want the abuse
i don't want the beatings
i don't want the worthless feeling
i don't want the constant failure
i don't want the loneliness

i want to be happy.
i want:
moving on.
moving past.
forgiving and forgetting.
letting go.
i want to sleep.

i wish i was strong
resilient and fearless.
i wish i was okay.

and i wish you were here.

but i have to stop wishing for those fantasies.
i have to stop dreaming fairytale endings for this story.
i have to stop trying to rewrite unwritten history.
i have to let what is be.

so watch me closely. listen to the sound of my voice.
hear the strength and the surety.
let it fill you with its honesty and truth.

i am walking away from this.

i am not turning my back on you.
but i am walking away.
this is not the life i want.
this is not the life i choose.
if you want me i'll be there.
but you'll never get me like you used to.
i'll never give you all of myself again.
the trust is gone.
and i can't bring it back.
i'm tired of the lies
so i'm walking away.

i never dreamed of this day
i never expected its coming.
i never thought anything like this could happen
i never imagined i'd be saying
Mom, goodbye.

I saw
Finding Nemo
which is
a Walt Disney movie
awhile back,
and I remembered it
tonight
and the story
that it told,
so the story
is about
being home,
leaving home,
and coming back home,
so I realized
that is
a great story,
so here goes -
"I am sitting in this chair,
thinking,
I'm getting bored of it,
so what's there to do?
I know,
I'll go write a poem,
and I leave
the chair,
and go write a poem,
and then come back
to the chair
and think"
so that's the story
and I hope
you liked it.

You and i both
Know what it takes
To live on clouds, floating in space
In our mystical dreams that we rarely loathe
That is for the vibrant beauty that hides within
My passionate eyes whenever they see you grin
So what if the power of our fantasy
Is strong enough to win over reality?
Would all our dreams come true like you promised me
Or will we feel so overwhelmed that we'd fail to be
The perfect image of each other's imagination
Drawn with critical observation
Of the things we like
The things we don't
Like the way you smile
Your heavenly cologne
Or the way you get cranky
When my mood swings and i stare at you blankly
What if the power of our fantasy
Is strong enough to win over reality?
Would all our dreams come true like you promised me?

Unfortunately, I suffer
From a perpetual desire to lean
Towards you when you're most unaware
And silence your lips with my own.

I'm afraid I selfishly cover you in kisses,
In an action of petty mortality.
As a fool with a view of the stage.

And yet what's worse, I fear you are
Entirely to blame.
You see had you not been so perfectly flawed
I could have resisted.
And lived a life so blissfully mundane,
That I might remember
Not to drink on Sundays
Not to laugh too loud
Or stare too delightedly.

But the world is not kind in that way.

I'm not a winner.
Now, before you all rush to tell me how great I am, and how I should really have more confidence,
Take a breath because that's not what I mean.

When I say I'm not a winner, I mean I don't want to be.
I mean that whenever I try to cut corners in my life, and get the better of it, and come out "on top"
I just end up feeling...
Empty.
I'm not a winner.
I don't get to do the I'm-just-having-fun, wild, crazy stuff.
Not because I'm not able, not because I'm restricted,
But because at the end of the day no matter how much I think I've changed, it does nothing for me.

Who I am is the person who would rather, despite numerous but half-hearted efforts to the contrary,
Spend my life alone than with anyone but the girl I love.
The person who's done with the party after a couple of hours, and wants to go do something quieter.
The person who looks long,
Thinks deep,
And doesn't win because she doesn't find it fulfilling.
What I mean when I say I'm not a winner is that I am a lover.
I know what I want, even when I try not to.
And I try to ***** out feelings that limit me, that confuse me, that make me afraid,
I try to at least shelve them and pretend I have control.
But always it boils down to a moment of clarity:

I am not a winner.

I do not win over my heart.
I do not want to.
I have no use for excess, no time for compromise, no patience for pretense.
I fought to be the one who has control, the one who doesn't care,
Who takes risks just to prove she can,
But
The truth is my real risks are being saved up like lucky pennies in a jar, and I can't truly spend a single one on anything but love.
And I've been spiriting them away, trying to give them out to everyone I know
Just so I won't have to be brave enough to box them all up and set them on her doorstep, but I can't do it.
I'm kidding myself- It's already happened.
There's a girl walking around some far off city
With my love tucked away in her coat pocket like a stray coin
That you don't spend because its weight against your leg has become habit
And I am fooling myself to think I have even the slightest bit left back here to offer anyone else.

No matter what I try, the answer I come to is always the same.
I think I'm so clever, getting around it, finding a new path
But in the end it's always the same shade of lame attempt to be
Less serious
Less in love
Less... brave.
It always boils down to cowardice, and once I see that, I quit trying and smarten up.
Plain and simple, I've been trying to win.
And I've failed.
Not because I was not strong enough for the fight,
But because I never wanted what I was fighting for in the first place.