We wish to have loved and lived, and we wish to have died then to not have tried at all.

I remember everything we ever said and did. We both had our problems, and we both made mistakes we sometimes couldn't take back.
I will forever hang every mistake I ever made over my head. Yet, the only mistake I could ever hold against you, was this.

Couldn't you have thrown me down just a little harder? So I wouldn't have had to bounce back, so I could have just cracked instead.

I laid in bed, the blanket caressing my skin. I could hear you breathing

in,
out,
in,
out.

I lost count of your heartbeats in the verses of a song ever so quietly upon my ears.
I lost myself in it all, my senses overflowed, and time was nothing but a thought for a moment.

Then I awoke,
the moment
lost in a dream.

I wish to see you one day, full of happiness, and not a single regret in your smile.
Being unnoticed, I would leave that memory of you behind like a flower I never picked.

I start looking at past conversations as I wait for a reply, my heart has sank. I am shaking as if I'm standing in a winter wind, but I'm alone on my bed.
This girl that I once loved speaking to more than anything is terrifying but calming me all at once.
I get her answer, and I realize that she doesn't hate me. It's something far worse, I am no longer someone she cares for, I am unexistent to her, I am nobody.

And when she responded, some buried part of me that never sees the light wished that I was dead.
Perhaps I would be somebody then.

I met an amazing girl, and yet again I'm terrified. The apathy looms, and scratches at my head, while I wonder if she will leave me. I can feel the disassociation laying next to me in my bed, telling me to go back to sleep.

I don't want to hold her back. I don't want to be her shadow.
I want be her inspiration, her light. Please, let it be.

Sometimes making amends to someone you did wrong, is moving on.

And hating someone so much, isn't letting go.
I hope you really let go,  because I'm moving on.

Time goes on, as I grow older, the fear and doubts grow with me into a chasm in my mind. You fall awake, I'm another year older and you don't know who I am. You fall away deeper and deeper into this chasm in my mind.
This abyssal feeling wakes me from sleep terrified that you aren't next to me. Only a ghost in my arms, staring into my eyes, feeding this chasm in my mind.

Enough is never truly enough, is it?
Something is always there, always keeping you awake at night.
You don't believe in yourself. You hold everything so dearly in your arms out of fear of losing them, and you don't understand what you are or how or why something would stick around to help find out.
But I want you to know, you are an inspiration.
Let me tell you, there isn't a one object in this universe that cannot prove to be inspiring in anyway. This world was meant to keep you alive, all you must do is take what you were given.
I plea that you will always choose to remember these words when you are at a loss for hope.
We are not here to judge one another, we are here to inspire.
And you my dear, you are my muse.

This is for the one I love.

Funny how such a small thing can cause me such happiness. A chain reaction: mistakes caused me regret, I destroyed myself from the inside out, sadness envoloped me, my loved ones kept me afloat until she came, I learned, and now I'm on a marathon.
Gonna keep running with her, and we're never gonna see that finish line.

I've come to terms with being forgotten, being left behind. I had gotten too far ahead of myself, I thought my life dreams were right around the corner, but my life is more than just a teenage love story.

It's a Shakespearean tragedy.

When you get dealt a **** hand, and have no eyes to stare into along with an,"it's okay".
Remember that you can walk away. And you may not be the happiest you can be, but you can still be happy. And you can tell yourself that it'll be okay.

Maybe we're afraid there will never be a catastrophic event that ends all of us together. Maybe we're scared of a normal life, a normal death. We want things to end in a crash of absolute chaos. We don't want to go quietly in the night. And by we, I mean me.

Today a man spoke to me; a drunkard, telling me what I should and shouldn't do. A part of me felt like a child again. Responding to others with that silence, they barely mean a thing in that moment.
Once I got home, I couldn't help but think about who he thought he was, what reason he had to tell me this. Out of want for respect, decency? In a world full of drunkards, murderers, perversions, and death.
Insanity pocketed in beings who believe they are sane, telling others that they should also be sane.
Tellmewhatthatis.
Another language.
A shape.
A joke.
A man who stumbles through life, for the next alcoholic fix, until his eventual death.
No one would care in the end. They all speak the same careless language at the end of the days. We sleep alone with ourselves regardless of who is there.

So what would be the point of me listening.
Why should I feel ashamed of doing something I wanted to do, when we're all going to die someday?

Cut it out, remove the dead tissue from the past. Leave it there on that bed you used to sleep on with her. Burn your fingertips clean of her touch, disappear from the way she remembers you. From the tabs she kept on you.
You've tried to sympathize now that you've done your time, but sympathy from a sinner doesn't mean a thing to an angel.
You've become something without a future or a past, but hated nonetheless. You've become a derelict, waiting for a storm to tear your old walls down.

A will of written beauty, only visible to truly wholehearted. The wonders in his eyes seen through words, the atrocities witnessed.
He always asked if these words would last forever.

Another night, taking the dog out, headphones in, the moon's glare in my eye. Like a limelight.
A moment clear as I walk down the flight of stairs, and everything around suddenly becomes like stone, to sand. My clarity becomes fleeting..
again.
My delicate heart could cease on this midnight walk beneath this warm glow, and would anyone know?

Would even I, know?

I've had this feeling lately, a feeling of not knowing what I'm doing, but no longer caring. Feels like the wild, full of danger and fear. Stupidity and stumbling.
Feel as though I'm a child all over again.
So much to be afraid of, but oh, so much to see.

I am a very sad and tired little boy, with little to look forward to. Not  a birthday, not an adventure, not a curiosity.
Everyday I realize what I lack, or I don't.
I'm only taking what is given to me, and trying not to look back.

Want to pretend like I'm having some sort of Revelation. But I still feel alone, I'm still holding back my anger, and my urge to curl my hands into fists, my urge to leave behind everyone and leave myself royally *******. I want to destroy myself entirely.

I don't know how I feel towards you anymore. I almost feel like I can hate you like you hate me, but something scratches at me, a million people tearing at my insides.
The naive highschooler, the little "man", the lustful *******, the vengeful ******* in me now, and the one that wishes you could just be okay.

I can't ******* figure out which one is me, was me. What I want for you, from you, or why it even matters..

I want to be sorry, I am sorry, but the vengeful ******* still screams ****** ****** in my head.
"It was all *******, she wants to believe she's any better when she used you. She wants to judge and not be judged. Blame you for everything she hates in herself."

I try to drown him out with noise, music, love.
But I can't stop the nagging that you were selfish, and even more so, you were entitled.
You've always been everything you hate in me, and now more.
A victim that always denies herself love.

Memories like sweet black cherry; ****, sour, soft.
Memories like the salty black sea; crashing, stranding, flowing.
Memories like plain bleached oats; vapid, flavorless,over.

I can feel the trembling in my ear, I'm afraid of myself. Worried I'll predetermine the rapture, and have you running away.

Everyday since she left it seems as if the world is going to just stop spinning. The feeling lingers like a cough or a sigh, a slight pain in the head that happens when you're alone.

I don't want to think about it, so just let the world end while I sleep on it.

What you said taught me something. How passionately you claimed to not care for me, but yet how much you hated me, gave me something.
A passionate disposition for not being a good person, but something real.
A truly realistic human being.

An attempt to remind us what comes out when the sun goes down, but I know what the darkness brings.
It brings your smile. Nothing could have been as bright and magical in the dead of this summer night. Not even the willow lights.

I keep finding myselves in places where I should play that role, the one who carries the stick, but I just don't feel strong enough for it.

To move on-

1. To leave.
"His mom told him that he should move on with his life"

2. To ignore.
"To see a beautiful flower, and not pick it. You will see it, then never see it again.  You move on."

3. To leave her alone.
"She left you alone, so you do the same, move on."

4. Beautiful, isn't it?
"To move on?"

Antonyms: to obsess, to bring up the past, to pick the flower.

Pathetic, isn't it?
You'll never move on. You're grasping at the past.
Grasping at  innocence.

I was six, heard a sound in the night, I slept the night away. Woke that night, tired, confused.* We leave, gripping my mother's hand as she yells.
This is it.
The day comes and we are back in that claustrophobic house, I'm choking on cigarette ashes, thirsty. Slight memory of the crackers in the cabinet I could never reach. I had a bath later, and little to my recollection now, he was there, my mother is there, vaguely remember. Faint sounds of loss of breath, splashing.
They aren't there now. I had forgotten entirely. My sisters had not.
I am  twenty one now, a loss of innocence grips me, I am angry everyday and I hurt the ones I love. Everything that I never want to become brings me fear, and haunts like a sound in the night.
Tired, confused.
**This is it.

I'm coming to realize that selfishness courses through the veins of others like a river of red, and I'm a foolish child flailing against that forever flowing current.

And the one and solitary way of telling another's true death was in their eyes. A chasmic color of some sort attributed, to prove a loss of hope and a gain of want. Had it never came to flesh and bone, it was not a death, but a hopeful wish for the soon to come. Now leave the flesh unturned and welcome the new rising hope, the blessing of the east.

I spoke to her yet again.

I've seen all that she can do even though I've only ever seen her once. I've heard promises and spoken words. They slide off her tongue as smoothly as the genuine truth, but it isn't the same as when I first met her.
I've come to terms with no longer knowing who she is, but the fact that I can still read her like the palm of my hand has me asking why I still speak to her.

I'm fully in control of the outcome, but I'm still lost. Engulfed like a moth to a flame, dying slowly knowing that I know her better than I know myself.
I'm a fool.

Tattered and bruised, feeling used.
Let the dust settle, and wonder where I am, where you last left me. Kept me in the dark long enough for me to understand that I don't need the light. The dust has sealed tight upon my skin.

Yet again, I feel the doubt filling in my pigments.
Are you different?
Forgiveness is something I've longed for, what right do I have to strip it from you.
Am I different?
How many times must I forgive you?
Am I truly deserving of that forgiveness as you are? Are we the same?

I didn't know what your heart desired, and we can say that's all there is to it. I'm very afraid, but you don't need to say it's okay this time around.

Life comes naturally to the unnatural, it comes as easy as a sound to the ones who don't give a ****.

Smell of me in the back of your throat, gurgling and choking you up.
Picture blood rushing to the inside of your skull, baby. I'll give you an aneurysm faster than you can say," I'm d-."

I'll give you peace of mind.

Now this may be a bad idea, it may be worse than the conceiving of this very writing, but it is what I want to do.

Brother, we knew each other.
And then it was gone, like laughter on the wind.
It faded to a gentle breeze on my skin.

Brother, we knew each other.
Though, fathers we never knew, we did what we could to become what we wanted.
Things we didn't say, if time had been kinder, you'd have been a great uncle to my kids one day.

Brother, one day I'll find your smile etched in the grass.
The wind still carrying your laugh across those green fields.
I'll carry you with me wherever I've gone, till I'm gone.

Her beautiful brown eyes no longer stare into mine, I don’t have much use for my eyes.

No longer an ear to hear me say I love them, I have no use for this voice.
My bed is void of her to hold, no use for these arms any longer.
I can no longer feel her head pressed against my chest, I have no use for my heart.

I’ve lost the one I love, I have no use for my life.

This is a story of a girl, lonely since the day the dust was given life. How deathly afraid she was to return to that dust. How deathly afraid she was to tell her family that she felt alone, even in their arms. How could she tell them she had no friends?
Those people she wished she knew, those people who she wished would just remember her name. Those people that really shouldn't have mattered at all.
Without
realizing,
she
buried
herself
deeper,
and
deeper.

Every last breath of her soul snuffed out, crystalised personalities, smiles, laughs, humanity, blanketed by false securities given by every friend she had.
Including me.

Do you still want someone to say goodnight to you? To talk to you everyday, dream of you, give you their all, to climb in that hole of yours after you.
After you realize you aren't who they think you are and attempt to claw out of your hole? Leaving them alone.

If so, the night will come, and they will return as dust upon your shoulder.
A final goodnight, a last blanket with a whisper of your name, and an
I love you. Still.

Looking out past that horizon. A mirage appeared, everyone he had ever loved. So distant, like sleep on a nocturnal night.

He can't fall asleep, his dreams call to him.

I just woke up, and once again, I'm unsatisified. I hardly have time to do a thing, it's never enough time being with you. My happiness feels so frail, waiting to be turned against me at any given opportunity.
How many times will I have to leave before it becomes enough?

I'm sorry to say you don't know me. You say I'm a good person, while I look you in those reflective eyes. Glossed to the point I can see my lies in your eyes.

Now all is misery in the beauty of others, I admire their eyes and think of her. I admire the way they can make me laugh and think of her. I admire their passion and think of her.
I try my best not to hurt them and *I think of her.

This feeling leaves me lost of my senses, like the sound of rain in a dream.
Loving her makes me feel like I'm lost in a world where everyone wants to be found. An infinitely expanding universe, that I will never fully explore but will never grow weary of.

And missing her is like death in a bottle, that I sip in miniscule doses prescripted by the second.

What does it matter that I'm good . I'll never be alright with who I am, what I want is only a dream. And the ones that I love are as real as life will ever be.