You are in paper now Eddie
my class will know you
in three weeks
they will see your royal nose
and your strong brow
they will feel your passion
your lust for life as you
pull back the bow string
but my heart still stings
still falls to my feet
thinking about you in the hospital bed
the bandage around your head
I thought it would bring closure
or make me closer to you
I was wrong
it just made me cry
made me yell at the night
I miss you
I miss you
I love you...

remember?

To react or not to react....that is the question.

Okay. I need to rant. I send you an incredibly long message about how you're my best friend and what you mean to me and how much I love you, and all that you respond with is a picture - not even an actual text. Like honestly? Are you freaking kidding me?? And then you post "I need someone to watch movies with who won't judge me if I try to spoon" hi, best friend over here who likes watching movies with you and always wants to be right next to you but I'm worried that you'll think it's weird. So really? I'm pretty sure that you don't think of me as your best friend and that really hurts. But I guess I shouldn't care. You have friends and I don't, right? Oh my god it's so frustrating. I really am sick of feeling so ****** about myself because of you. I feel on top of the world because I send a super amazing and heartfelt message to my favorite person, and I get **** in return. So thank you for that, it's not incredibly disappointing or hurtful at all (that's pure unadulterated sarcasm). Maybe this is the problem with being best friends with a guy. I am "more sensitive" or whatever, but you've had friends that are girls before, why can't you treat me like them? And you never say I'm pretty or anything, that's hurtful. You'll talk about all these people that are babes, but you never compliment me. I'm really sad because of it. And I'm really angered too. I wish we were inseparable, but you don't care. And I'm so tired of trying with you...good bye (at least for tonight).

I recently dis covered
Beauty
In such a simple and unexpected way

Brush your teeth
And then drink hot chocolate

Yesterday I cut a gathered lump of hair off of my head
and all around me were the tendrils
and the tail I held in my hand I thought I might save.
Nicky told me "If you think it's so weird, then stop doing it"
But I kept the hair I didn't mean to lose.
Like I did my first night in jail,
after Chris,
When they gave me a comb and threatened to shave me,
I kept a ball in the pocket of my stripped shirt
then later in my underwear for safer hiding.

The box of long blonde braids,
and a thick black pony tail,
and bags of blue hair
sits in my bathroom cabinet above the sink.
But the hair in my hand I discarded willfully.

It is not the memory in front of the mirror before school
with the swollen brush marks across my legs.
Nor was it standing in the dining room across from my sister and mother huddled,
across from my stepfather out of breath,
and she choosing him.

I said I'd answer, "I didn't want it on my head"
Or "It just fell out, oh my God!"
But "I'm losing my mind" burst out instead
And I guess I feel alright just yet.

I've been waiting out these rainy days
with my head down
and my ears waiting eagerly for your call

I had my own whimsical hopes about you
and how maybe we could be
because I liked the way you don't say much
and how you only smile if someone actually deserves it
and when you sit alone in the farthest corner of the gardens
because it's exactly where you wished to be

I was captivated by your mystery
and the possibilities I had told myself were more than a good chance
My hopes built higher after you mentioned one evening alone together
they peaked, and pointed to a plateau of so much fantasy I could finally see clearly

There is always a caveat in these situations
and mine starts with a but,
but, you rarely look at me when I speak
but, you never even held my hand
but, you never ask about me
but, I can hardly get a word in when we're alone
but, I can't be with someone who doesn't value me

I've spent my entire life building up fantastical stories and telling myself that boys liked me because it was the only way that I could feel like I was worth something.
My main objective for as long as I can remember has been changing myself to make it easier for people to receive me,
but i'm not a ******* package waiting to be delivered to price charming's doorstep just so he can open me up, use me, and throw me aside.
No longer will I pretend that I am not a whole being.
The parts of me that are not soft and pink are still worth something.
I have baggage and rough patches but I think those scars are beautiful.
My thoughts may come out scattered but they're still worth hearing,
and I cannot go chasing down the love of someone who doesn't care to understand that I am more than just a sum of a few pretty parts.