Realizing I am slipping away from her when she didn't text me happy birthday this year. Even though we haven't talked in four years, the very least we could do is say, "I thought of you today, and I hope it's going great." The absence of that sank its fangs into my throat.

Sipping a hot cinnamon dolce latte while sitting on the second floor deck of the student center. Watching students stream in waves to classes, and wondering what their story is.

Hearing the three chimes in 'Cassy O' and the guitar's chaos at minute 6:47 to 7:45 of 'Freedom' live at the Hammersmith Apollo, 2007.

Gazing at the sky when the sun is on the other side of the world, but a shade of crimson tinges in a terrifying drench.

Conversely, when the sky is so white, all one smooth blanket, I wonder what color will I see when I finally go to sleep- or will I be stuck in a black film?

Knowing a boy is near me so I stretch my neck, straighten my back, and hope he notices everything I want a person to notice and grow to love.

The disappointment people have in me swallows my whole body. Sometimes it's an act of cannibalism, and I can't push away regret faster than it starts to lick its lips at the sight of my glistening blood.

Seeing a picture of my younger self from sixteen, and it seems I have changed far too much to connect with the person in the image. She didn't know anything. I still don't know anything.

I stare at myself in the mirror, sometimes fully clothed and sometimes naked, and I wonder, "Who the hell is this? Who is she?" I detach my soul from my frame, and my face does not match my mind.

My eyes can just take a picture. I know the quality and the subject, my camera does not. I see angles and perspectives differently, and it frustrates me that I cannot get my vision out.

Some days my hearing does not affect me whatsoever. I don't even think about it. But others, particularly when I make mistakes, I blame my disability. And I hate to make excuses.

I want someone to film my passing moments, catch my laughter, study my ****** expressions. Expect me to glow and beam when I hear my favorite sounds, know where my dialect comes from, smile when I mention my friends.

One day someone will hold me and reach intimate places, and I'm afraid I will not be sufficient enough.

The scariest thing, however, and I absolutely have no way of explaining it, is life after death. We live for a fraction of time. We will forever live in white space, and not come alive again. Doesn't that terrify you?

You are selfish!
You are cruel!
Have you second thoughts,
Of our significant rule?

You are an imbecile!
You are heart-shattering!
Have you no shame,
Of leaving me wailing?

I see you have decided,
The minute you Soared off that terrace,
May all of my deepest prayers,
Be heard by you, my seraph

You have left me mournful,
Grieving, and full of betrayal,
I won't even ask why,
I'll just continue to wail!

But
I Love You!
And I know you know so,
But I am too much of a weakling,
To let you go.

Will you ever come back?
Are you thinking of me?
I am blinded by this aftertaste,
Finally, I see.

My backward footsteps are causing my kneecaps to rub against themselves
The creaking and squeaking is sending so many vibrations through my feet and into the ground,
it's creating ripples throughout the sky
and the stars skip over the blanket of blackness like stones being thrown across a lake in July

My footprints are always misleading and pointed in the wrong direction
My tracks are untraceable
I've never been the same person long enough to have an identity
My fingerprints are constantly changing to fool my surroundings into thinking I'm alive

I tripped on my own two feet for two weeks straight
Simply trying to take a step in the right direction
But all I did was get myself even more lost

Every screeching tire, each smoking set of brakes,
They all bring me back to the same vacant place
Where the walls are all I have to rely on
And the silence is the only thing that's guaranteed

Everybody seems to know
What to do,
Where to be,
What to say.

And among all that chaos there's us.
The lost ones.

Everybody seems to have
A goal to reach,
A place to be,
A person to meet.

And among all that determination there's us.
The lost ones.

We're searching for an answer,
Or a certain somebody,
Or a way to feel something.
But eventually we're just waiting for this always present confusion to vanish.

This place gets old
Stained walls,
Broken roads..
Surrounded, crowded..
Still, familiar..
Only familiar
Something's different
The scent?
The people? You?
Ah, No more you...

Your walk,
How you look..
More certain..
Different from what I've known
Is it change?
Is it the clock?
That keeps ticktocking
And every tick is a step
Taking you away
Far from me..

Time changes everything
Wait, no, no..
Time leads us..
To 'who we're suppose to be'
We don't change..
In process of getting to know
We discover,
This life
This place
Ourselves.