I hate it when people speak to me like i'm unstable.
I hate it more that i've given them reason to treat me that way,
Like the way my parents penelopize all their decisions, 
Or when they have to go outside their comfort zone to keep me from spiraling.
I hate it when you laugh at my dull jokes to keep from hurting my feelings,
Or when you agree to my insane ideas just so i'd feel sane.
I hate how all my first greetings are awkward and the way my smiles seem strained.
I hate how anxious I feel about not being accepted and how it stops becoming important after.
I hate how the sky with all its stars and the lonely moon make more sense to me than a crowd of people.
I hate how i always get sick after my walks in the rain and how my body never adopted to it.
I hate that I NEED to walk in the rain like an addict needing his fix.
I hate how my sadness makes me treat people, how I learned to shrug in the face of their pain.
I hate how I don't care about a lot of things and how others drain my whole soul.
I hate the way I love; how it tricks my mind in to believing the world belongs in the hands of that one person.
I hate how I never learned to let go of that world.
................ But most of all I hate the way all the things I hate about myself have made me who I am and i still haven't learned to accept them.

'How to apply eye shadow' the title of the video said.  I looked at it with bewilderment, amazed at myself for finally resorting to this.  I was to dress well today. I was to look pretty for people so when they'd look at me,  they'd miss the dark circles that lined my eyes like a clingy lover.
I was to hide all the diprived part of my face from luck of proper supplement with foundation that resembled my skin.
I was to conceal the acne that started appearing a couple of weeks ago with a powder I didn't quite recognize. 
I was to decorate my eyes with eyeliner and mascara, my eyelashes curled way past their normal size, to hide how puffy they were from the night spent in tears.
I was to brush my eyebrows for they'd lose their shape each time I rubbed my eyes to  hold off the pending emotional storm.
I was too put blush on my sleep deprived face so i'd have an illusion of being lively.
Then i'd pick up the bright red lipstick and draw precise lines on my puffy lips,  making them glow with a ferver I never felt.
I would look at myself then, make up hiding every inch of the parts people would see and it would amaze me how even the well done mask could never truely hide the ache that shattered my soul. 
I start to walk out, then stop to look back at myself.
"You forgot something," I say then pick my smile up from the hidden place I keep it and plaster it on my face. 
"There you go."

Its not the big things that are hard to get over but the simple, seemingly detailed ones,
Like how you would miss ice cream in the winter,
The way coffee never touched your lips unless it was 2/3 milk,
How crossing your leg on my bed would make you look gawky from your sheer height,
The way your fingers tangled around the pen I gave you on your birthday,
And how you smiled,
Adoration lighting up your eyes when you received it,
The time we caught a terrible cold because you convinced me taking a stroll in our pajamas under heavy rain was a good idea,
How you titled yourself the worst cook and all those disastrous moments you proved yourself right,
The deep thoughts you shared that forced me to lose myself in my day dreams,
The day we tasted alcohol for the first time and how we chugged it down even though we despised the taste of it,
The way my thoughts opened up to you in a way they hadn't learned to do with me,
All those silly moments we spent, heads upside down on your bed, faces pink with the rush of blood,
The day I found you huddled up at the corner of your room, your long legs pulled up to your chest,
as you rocked back and forth, your face washed with silent tears,
How we stayed there for hours, huddled together in to a small ball until the screams outside the door died down,
The moment I experienced the very frist and seemingly last shattering of my heart as I saw you wave to me from the back of your moms car,
And the weeks that followed where our conversations died faster than they revived,
Until the day I stopped getting replies,

.... All the seemingly detailed moments you just can't forget.

You were spontaneous,
Impulsive
Charged with a million ways to fuel my lust for you
Or perhaps that was what my young mind thought
For I have learned to be much more spontaneous now and at the same time, less graceful
More myself
I’m not quite sure how I should feel about that.
You were my first lover not because I didn’t have boyfriends prior to you
On the contrary
I was wilder
More impetuous
For I was the one who noticed you on the crowded dance floor
Where you clutched the sweating beer by the waist
I knew you were an observer from the way you studied the swaying crowed
While managing to seem quite immersed even though the distance you comprised was palpable
I thought you’d be shy when I approached you
Shy men where a fantasy of mine
Yet you spoke like you owned the world
Like it should be lucky to worship at your feet
And I realize you were a force all on your own and I wanted, so desperately, to be a part of your wave
A feeling I never quite felt before.
So you see,
This was why you were my first lover
For the fire you created in me
On the roof of a strange building we accidently stumbled upon
Where the night air stole our breaths away
Yet our touches felt like a hot summer day,
Burning away my desire for the men I had always thought were my choices
And searing me in your peculiar head,
So when we parted that first day, at the peak of dawn
With my number scribbled on your left arm from the spontaneity of our choices,
You had left a mark on my soul,
One I had never thought could be composed by a random stranger
And it wasn’t from your ragged but handsome looks or the hair my fingers wanted to spend the night entangled in,
But rather from the dark way your eyes glinted when they whooshed past my bare neck
Or the various ear-rings that decorated one ear
When your fingers made a light brush against the strained front of my dress and my hardened *******,
But most of all, it was the hunger I saw in your gaze
And I realized, in that very moment, all I wanted to do was spoil myself with the lavishness that was you.

I feel like summer,
Like sunlight and humidity,
A delight but also a force to be recond with
Capable of reviving your wilted soul
But still etherial
Ghostly.
I feel like winter
Chilling to the bone
Unwanted
Misunderstood yet packed with potential.
My moods are of the fall,
Gloomy
But if you look closer,
Much closer
you might find beauty in my colors
In the sunset orange
In the faded green
Around my cracked edges.
I feel like spring,
Touched with new beginnings
A part of the equinox
Of mysterious and outerworldy things
A fraction of the universe.  
I feel like the distant waves
Overflowing with ups and downs
Unstable
Yet exciting
Wanting and calling
Seducing
I feel like the kiss you left on my cheeks,
Immortal.

I don’t want to lose myself in my thoughts for I have been there too long. I have seen and moderately felt what roams in the dark cave constructed by my fleeting deliberations, neither coping nor moving from the trap that it truly was. So I chose to write.

I wrote it all on paper, on the clicking pads of my computer, on the tiny keyboards of my phone, on the tissue paper that came with the drink I ordered in a bar, on the walls of my home yet it was never enough. Writing on things that do not breathe or react is trivial, at least for me; I could not know how much of a difference my words made, how much I affected the world. Thus I chose to write on a heart.

Why not?

It beat. It was alive. It was vital therefore it would not be ignored.

So I set out to find my perfect writing pad, my specimen, the thing that would carry the impression I chose to lay down. My only oversight was not realizing there could be one as needing and wanting as I, looking for the same sample to leave a mark on.

Deception is easily learned, like how to appear trust worthy, how to make people laugh, how to make them feel special and seeming quite in love. But where I thought myself proficient, you were truly the one with the skills; and where I though myself the marauder, you thought me I was nothing but the pray. You danced with me using my own melody, letting me have a taste of control but drinking away the very last of my resolve; waiting with the patience I could never learn to open myself to you.

I live now with your art scribbled on my heart with the ink that I could only get from you.

Lead me on
Break my heart
Make me dance
Under the gaze of the moonlight
Then leave me there
Waiting
Hoping
Wanting
Needing
But remember to lead me on
Because this heart of mine
Exists for the thrills held in your arms
On the tip of your tongue
On the lies you sprout
On your burning fingers
On the balcony of your room
On the floor beside your bed
On your pretty lies
With all the times we've wasted
With our made up feelings
Where yours was as real as my dreams
And mine as false as my nightmares