You know I think we all have crushed dreams. I'm almost done with my small town life, about to head to the city fir college. And in a bout of writing, it occurred to me that I'll never have that young stupid romance that teens have, the ones were you just spend all day talking and laughing with no care in the world. I'll never have her look at me with big smiling eyes as we slowly dance at homecoming. I'll never know what it's like to be one of any of my friends. I really just don't get it. Why does this one thing bother me so ******* much? That I can't find anybody. And now the more I write to some imaginary person I call you just to feel like maybe you will find this, I slowly begin sobbing and realize I'm still just a stupid little kid that had his dreams crushed. Is this feeling, this dry old cough, this stinging crying, is this what it's like to realize your dreams are shattered? This heavy weight on your chest knowing that you can't get back the lost time? That you’re running out of time with your friends and prom is around the corner and you can't live with yourself if you don't find a date. That soon you'll never see anybody that you know again? That now you have to grow up and go be an adult? I just wanted to be a normal high school student and fall in stupid love and experience going to parties and dances but no I sit at home or at night classes to make college better and I'm not even sure if I want to go there anymore but I know my parents would force me. I only have a little time and I can't do it all over again. And I spend my nights writing this ****** book for stupid reasons. Why can't I just turn my mind off and live

To find someone like me. And to grow old with them. Find each other in undergrad, become inseparable in medical school. Both get residences in New York, New York. Work 80 hour work weeks, and on that one day off, walk around the city at night, looking at the stars, whispering into each others ears that we found the one, that it's going to be alright now, we don't have to worry anymore.

I was bad when I was younger

To arrogant with my ways

Spurned those deemed below me

Those kings and queens now hold

My indigo fate

I've always been in the snow

I've always found it fascinating

How something so essential to us

Can freeze and become unique

Only to never be appreciated

For what do we do?

We plow it away

Away from our paths

And drudge on by

Oblivious to the lifetime of stories

We slowly crunch underfoot

I've always wondered why

Why god cries frozen now

And as I stand in the snow

With no protection

Of the mental or physical kind

I can't help but mirror gods actions

And create decrepit copies of my own

So much like my own words

I can never be the original

Only a sham of a copy

Why does it hurt so much to get up?

Oh how I wished I could dream

Some escape from this prison called reality

My head is never my safe haven

I just want a day without worry

No more stress, no more worrying about finding you

I just want to look in your eyes again

As we look up into the stars

I just want to see the reflection of the water on your eyes

I just want to feel you next to me

I feel like I'm looking for someone that doesn't exist. My oculus, my self. Perhaps, my oculus, you are truly my reflection, and every time I look me in the eye, I'm looking at the love of my life. But that can't be, when I can't pull a courages heart out of my magic hat. So you must be real. So please, please be real. Because reflecting nothing hurts like hell.

This is an oppressive cold

The cold that bring the dead memories

Or maybe the memories of the dead

Back to life

The kind of cold kings are afraid of

The ones that **** indiscriminately

The grip of the reaper is absolute

And only in his grasp

Do we find what made us happy