I started cutting up the strings on my dream catcher. I guess I was hoping that they would somehow come true if I shook them out. The only thing that's happened is that I started bleeding. I don't know whether it was from my heart or the fact that there's a blade in my hand and I'm slowly remembering how I used to use it. These empty hallways have such a resemblance to cemeteries. The walls hold pictures of our memories. Each frame is a gravestone for a time when I was happy. My life is haunted by the concept that we had once completed each other. The ghost of our love's past and the future it never got to see. You can give someone the world and they'll just throw it back in your face. I guess it wasn't good enough. It always felt like we were born from the same star. Spending all of forever searching for a way back home. They say all air is recycled. God I hope that's true. I stare at the ceiling in the middle of the night taking deep breaths, I hope there's still traces of you.

You'll think of me when you see clovers
When you hear jokes about Shrek,
when my twentieth birthday rolls around
you won't have the courage to call drunk or sober. When you hear Ed Sheeran's songs, it will remind you of how I went to his concert, you were mad as heck. You'll see Agnes from Despical Me and I will make way into your memory, you'll remember that I cared for you when you were sick, sad and alone, that you messed up and pushed my heart to roam. You'll think of the times we had and how it ended oh so bad, you may try to forget, treat me like **** but don't you see? Long from now something and somewhere will make you think of me.

When you're falling short and solemn,
when your head falls to your chest,
and your chest to your knees.
Mother kisses your forehead as she lifts it up,
she hugs you tightly as she pulls you up.