Queen sized beds are dumb
My queen isn't here tonight
So it's just a bed

In search of your warmth
This bed stretches forever
So much for my rest.

I know you're not really in love with me,
Or rather,
I know if you were ever in love with me you aren't now.
I'd bet my last breath you don't talk about me
the way that I go on about you
when I'm not with you
I keep asking myself
What you see in me
Because all I do is try to find a way to hold onto my happiness.
I already know what's coming
A "I need to be alone" spell.
And after tonight
After tonight I don't know what I want
Rachel, I want you to be happy
But I want to be happy too.
I say that I don't need a title to love you.
I mean that.
But I really hate how your love feels like half love.
I hate knowing that literally at any second without warning you could demote me from "lover" to "best friend"
I hate it.
I hate feeling like I have to constantly do something to keep your attention.
When I'm sitting there, in your bed, kissing you,
I'm having panic attacks
trying to figure out
how to kiss you better than last time.
That goes for everything we do.
You'll read this
and your simple solution
to hurting me will be to run away.
I just want you to say "I'm sorry."
I just want you to act like you do when we're alone.
I don't need a title,
What I need is for you to back the words "I love you" because I'm insecure and you pretend like you don't care.
So how can I believe that you love me when you ask me to tell your friends
you're single.
I hate myself for not being as strong as you seem to think I am.
I hope that when you read this
You just start treating me like you love me.
Because you're hurting me.
Not even as your lover
You're hurting me as your friend.

My heads a ****** up place
I spend time swimming against the current that is the whirlpool pulling me deeper into my depression
I try so hard to keep my head up but these days I feel like I'm holding the weight of the entire planet by a string with my teeth. The girl I'm in love with only loves me when it's convenient. I kept telling myself it wasn't like that until she humiliated me today. My job doesn't make me happy anymore and I can feel the last of the "post high school magic of life" slipping through my fingers as if to say, "remember you have to prepare for real life." Suicide seems more and more like an option. It seemed so far away yesterday when I was telling every person who would listen how in love I am. How in love I am. I hate breaking. I hate being reminded I'm only good enough behind closed doors. I hate everything. I paint with vibrant watercolors but I always paint in the rain. My life is bleak and bland. My only solace is this bottle and video games. **** everything. I'm bitter and sick of crying. But I know that I love you so much that I'll forgive you. I just wish you weren't so oblivious to the fact that your words, much like sticks and stones, break bones and hearts

I forgot you don't have a boyfriend.
I forgot that you can't have one.
I set up this delusional world
Where it's just us and we are an us
I'm gonna try and stop slipping
"I love you" into conversations as much.
Because all it'll take to rip you away is someone else.
Someone else.
Someone else
Why does your love hurt so much?
Why can't I be enough?
When I'm with you I always forget that,
at the end of the day,
I'm probably just a vacation stop.
I'm fun to visit.
I wish I hadn't heard you say
"I don't have a boyfriend"
I wonder...
Oh, how I wonder
if I'm supposed to feel this way.
My heart hurts
And
Crying is probably inevitable
But smoke your week
But sip your drink.
I'll sip mine
And into sleep I'll sink

My paranoia is my poison
"She doesn't love you."
It plays on repeat
I try to stop it,
I do.
My paranoia is my poison
Cluttering the tidy room that is my head
I know it's not true
I know that we're okay
My paranoia is my poison
It's unfair to her
It's unfair to me
That the lover that wasn't her scared me.
My paranoia is my poison
Like petals pulled from a rose
My head plays the back and forth
"She loves me not...
She loves me so"
that plagues the clichéd romantic comedies.
God, I hope I land on an even number
My parinoia is my poison.