It's sadder than you think, Trust me.
I can't even relate to those stupid songs about daddy issues and broken homes. I cry to them, wishing that I would feel only what I was singing, but every time, it's so much more.

It's deeper than "my dad left my family" or "my dad's in jail" or even "my dad's abusive".
It's all of the above, multiplied by fifty, and made to make no sense to people who aren't narcissistic and psychopathic.

We were just pawns in his game of chess, but to us, that game was life.

It was my life.


My heart drops just a bit every time I see myself do something, or hear myself think something that reminds myself of him.

Norman Joseph Nail.
He always, always carried around a purple bandana.
He wore white-wash jeans that were ripped at the heels.
He sat like a businessman on vacation, with his left upper ankle resting on top of his lower thigh.
Graying hair that stuck out in all directions, but was short enough to work.
stubble.
Electrifying, tired, light eyes that were a mix of grey and pale blue, that never showed emotion unless he was surprised.
Skin that was tan, red, and spotty all over.
Silver wire frame glasses.

Is it that I think that he really cared about me? I know he didn't care about my feelings for the sake of them, but maybe he did care about me, even if it was just for his own personal gain.

He had so much pride, but alot of it was rooted in us.

He's sick, but I love him, even though I have every reason to want him dead. I'm contradicting myself...I hate all that he's done, and it's selfish and unhealthy to want any of that back, but I miss my childhood. I miss him. Not Norman, but my dad. I miss the person I thought he was.
There's a hole in my chest where the father figure should be.

I miss him so much.

I adore her.

I don't know why I look at her the way that I do.
I've memorized her features.
I'm just drawn to stare at her, in wonder.

I look at her the way I look at the moon on a clear night in the countryside: in awe.

I wonder what it would be like to be inside her head. The thoughts that pass. The thoughts that she clings to. They must be so beautiful. So intruiging. And most importantly: different.

I struggle to put a name to what sets her apart from everyone else. Why do I feel like this about her and not those who actually notice my existence. I haven't found my answer yet.

I'm in awe at her beauty, stunned by the way she holds herself.
Not too confident, but definitely not shy.
Always unique and subtly charming.
And that **** smile. It kills me everytime.

She's a mix between Cole Sprouse and some femme fatale-character that I made up in my head.

I crave conversation. I long for days of talking about anything, discussing everything and nothing. I want comfortable silence. I want silence with similtanious conversation through looks and body language. I want to stare into those eyes without being afraid.

But I don't think that I will ever take the risk of telling her how I feel. Maybe one day, but not when I have everything to lose...even if everything is just the ocassional smile or laugh that I might get from joking around with her.

The only reason we're ever around each other in the first place is because we share first and fourth period. It's actually really sad, we're acquaintances...maybe friends. Nothing more.

I hate when people go along and try to write romantically about others. They might say "I looked at her like I looked at the sun", but I think that this is just so ignorant. Do they really mean to say that they squint angrily at her?

Why don't they, instead, talk about her as if she shares characteristics with the moon?

Describe the way she shines, making her light from the rays that shine on her from others. She thrives off of kind words and gentle encouragement. She takes those seemingly random ideas and opportunities and reflects and uses them to make something all her own.
She goes through phases. She may seem like she's not even there at times, but all you have to do is wait. Wait for that exact moment when everything falls into place, and she finally shows herself (it is always worth it to wait for the exact moment: when she is ready)
She is so far away, but she affects so many people. She raises the tides to help all who feel like they're lost at sea.
She shines the brightest when the situation is trying her, spreading her patience thin, and darkness seems to consume her.
She has been here through it all.
Even though many different people see her many different ways, few know what she looks like up close.

Luna, you are incredibly unique. I love you.