I fought against the rising waves,
Trying to keep my head above the water,
Refusing to let myself drown,
I used up every ounce of will I had,
And pulled myself out of hopelessness.

I couldn't stand,
But somehow I found a way,
Lighting the darkest tunnel with light,
Painting the world with my hope,
Using the brightest colors to live my dream.

I never thought I could be broken,
Molded into the perfect tool,
To destroy others,
The same time I was destroying myself,
Turning the paintbrush into a weapon of steel.

Determination flowing in my veins,
I never thought I'd lose it all,
I started with so much,
Only to end empty-handed,
The fallen darkness too much to bear.

No way to fight the insanity,
I've pushed myself far past the limit,
My determination ****** my energy dry,
And I can no longer fight what's ahead,
I already know I've lost the war.

I find the pain in paint,
Even the simplest things can be complicated,
the most colorful things can be found colorless,
The most mended things can be called broken,
In this twisted excuse of reality.

Come as you are,
              not how you ought to be

Eyes see what the
Heart allows.
I love you, and hand
You slivers of silver.
You curse me for
My needles.

Roller coasters
Dinosaurs
Man made lakes
Wooden floors

Taylor Swift
Instruments
Middle school phases
Humid wind

I'd talk about the weather
I'd talk about the sky
I'd talk about everything
That ever happened with you and I

I'd talk about your favorites
But I already know them all
I'd talk about my fears
But you know about my walls

We could talk about everything
Really
Besides religion
And politics
And everything else on the list
If you would just pick up the phone first for once
And actually call me

I saw you in winter,
and thought of tree branches feathered by starlight in poorly lit neighborhoods. A hearth where the more honest parts of myself, I am bared fetal, warmed upon, welcomed.

I saw you in spring,
and thought of long drives in the countryside in the rain. Ice cream melting from our chins dancing petrichor upon our toes, kissing by the sea shore.

I saw you in summer,
and thought of sleepy boathouses, uncovering ancient childhood treasures in the woods. A secret lake somewhere, the sky's reflection in promise. Windy hilltops upon which to blame each other for the sunrise.

I saw you in autumn,
and thought of scarfs and cafes, city streets and sunsets where we watched each others breath escape. Apartment staircases where windchill hibernates, the world slowing down around us from your window.

The first time I saw You, I thought to myself, "I could live there."

there's a difference between listening and waiting to talk and it's important to be with someone who wants to listen to you as much as you want to listen to them, even if it means that someone is you, even if it means you only have yourself.
listen, you can spend your whole life talking and still not be heard.
how terrifying is that?
you can spend your whole life screaming at the top of your lungs and still not be heard.
HOW TERRIFYING IS THAT?
too often people stop listening before you stop talking and the most important things are lost in translation.
i love yous are cut off by the hurry to get nowhere fast,
by hanging up the phone two seconds too soon,
by shutting the door too quickly behind us.
we need to stop shutting the door too quickly behind us.
one day, there won't be anyone left on the other line to pick up our 2 AM calls.
one day, the phone will ring and ring and ring and nobody will ever call back.
one day, the door will be permanently bolted closed and you'll be left knocking on an empty house until your knuckles bleed. there will still be no answer.
our time is so limited.
so really, what's so wrong with saying all the right things at the wrong times instead of never saying them at all?
what's so wrong with moving too fast, with being desperate, with dropping i love you and i'm so sorry and i miss you as often as we drop see you later?
what's so wrong with knowing how permanent goodbyes can really be?
what's so wrong with knowing that when you're six feet under, no one will be able to pry your cold, hard lips open to spill all the words you took to your grave?

i think the sky has lots to say to us but we never care enough to listen.
i think that at least once in our lifetime, we need to step out of our bodies and into somebody else's.
the world holds a cacophony of deafening sounds
but don't you dare for even a second think that is a bad thing.
the sky keeps saying
LISTEN TO SYMPHONIES OF CATASTROPHES AND CREATIONS. LET THAT BE THE MUSIC THAT GUIDES YOU.

we have forgotten what's important in life and i think the sky keeps trying to remind us that money is worthless when you're dead,
that there is more good than bad inside of everything and everyone,
that fighting will never stick to our hearts more than the image of watching someone's eyes flutter open in the morning,
that the only times you should worry about the weight of the world is when the people you love don't pick up the phone anymore.

It needs to just leave me alone.
Let me sleep.
Leave me with thoughts of love.
Not thoughts of panic.

Welcome to my Panic Room.
Where instead of sleep,
Thoughts of terror come into play.
And I can feel the swelling of my throat;
As if I were allergic to the tragedy.
My heart beats as if it were a horse race.

Welcome to my Panic Room.
Where a bed lay in the center.
One I wish to sleep upon and dream of fearing nothing.
Yet I sit in the corner;
All curled up to protect myself from the monster that's coming.
Only to realize, every time,
The monster is inside me.