I had those random thoughts again.
Such as; how people pick you last for the first game of the semester played in a gym class, even though they don't know how good or bad you are.

It's off of appearance alone, which is *******.
"Oh they look thin, they're probably not good at (sport)."
What the **** does that have to do with anything?

When we played soccer, I showed up everyone else,
even though I was picked last.
They had the nerve to say to me, "Wow, good job!"
As if the notion that I was good at a sport was some sort of miracle.

Whatever.
Not like I played soccer for eleven ******* years.
Not like they knew that since sixth grade.

The way they say, "Wow, good job!", makes me sick.
They say it to me as if I'm unable to be good, just because they perceive me to be horrible at sports.
They sound so surprised.

Another thing's been stuck in my head ever since I've read Paper Towns.
John Green mentions people seeing mirrors of others as who they believe the person to be.
I find this true.
People love to think that they know someone very well, when they only know the version that they've created.
Green says we need to see through the window to see who the person actually is.

Which seems ******* impossible.
But it's not.
Just talk to them instead of assuming.

They've already built a mirror of who I am.
Of course, it's completely wrong.

I'm not some boring skinny twig that can't talk right.
I'm not smart, and I'm not rude.
I have emotions, and I really care about others, much more than myself, even.

That's not who I am to anyone else, though.

i.

I find that it's often other people's things that we accidentally break
except for our own hearts.


ii.

In a dream I once had, my dad said this bit:
I know it's tough right now, but you need to pull through. You can make it.


iii.

And from my mom, in a few years her picture will sit on the bookshelf:
I love you. You will survive yourself.


iv.

Maybe all of this was one big ******* mistake, but oh god, not you.


v.

Be there for those who care, otherwise, those who care will seldom be there.

you had your eyes on him for a while,
and i could tell that you really did love him.

for a while, you guys were happy together.
i was happy for you because you were happier than ever before.

but i wish that i told you what i had discovered earlier that year.
that while going after another's heart we often use our own as a stepping stone.

it wasn't until you came running into my arms, crying, after musical practice
that my resolve shattered.

it had been two wonderful months between you two,
but nothing good ever lasts, as you discovered.

I held you close as you choked out the words, explaining what happened.
"he's been looking at others," you sobbed into my shoulder.

"and...and, i asked him if he loved me," you took a shaky breath, barely able to squeak out the next words. "....he said no"

you broke away from our embrace, still unable to control your misery.
i hated that i couldn't help you.

but as the philosophers did say, history repeats itself.
and two weeks later you and him are friends again.

i see the way you look at him.
even though he shattered your heart, you still love him.

i'm okay that it's not me.
as long as you're happy, i'll be happy.

like how two wrongs don't make a right,
two broken people don't make a stable relationship.

Cold hands,
pale skin,
blue eyes.

Snowflakes,
ice skates,
gray skies.

Bad news,
illness consumes,
happy dies

Cracked lips,
fake smile,
telling lies.

Lonely boy,
wondering if
he can fly.

Bleeding knuckles,
broken body,
sobbing, "why?"

Rainy day,
dressed in black,
try not to cry.

Cold hands,
pale skin,
glass eyes.