You never loved me.
I knew that. I still know that you won’t ever love me.
But god. Do I want you too.
I want to be in your head like you are always in mine. And no I don’t love you.
But I want too.
You’ve seen my mind naked almost as much as my body. But I know you don’t like me.
You like her. Maybe even love.
She has years with you and I have a few months at best.
She has you and I have thoughts.
In my head.
You will always be in my head.

Someone asked me who I loved today.
And it got me thinking,
a name didn’t pop in my head,
Or I should say your name.
Your name didn’t drown my thoughts like it always did.
What you did to me didn’t start playing in my head like a silent film.
Your laugh and screams didn’t clash in my ears.
Your smile and snarl didn’t cloud my eyes.
Your fists and lips didn’t touch my body.
And wow.
Not feeling you felt really ******* good.
Not having my senses filled with you.
Felt amazing.
Not feeling your fists on my body even after you left,
Feels like gold.
Your hand grabbing my head to look at you so you can apologize doesn’t make me shudder.
I’m fine. And for the first time.
I think I mean it

It’s been a while since I’ve tried to make sense of it all
It’s actually been forever in my mind since I’ve tried to make sense of anything,
My ideas, my thoughts, my problems they all jumble up together in my head,
They all started to look the same.
Maybe it’s Cause I keep looking for love in the same places I loose it,
Maybe it’s one of the many problems I’ve yet to admit I have thats keeping me interested in anything,
I’m so interested in the thoughts in my head I forget the date,
But I’m so interested in remembering the date that I don’t pay attention to the problems — thoughts. In my head.
It’s like when someone flicks the light switch on in a dark room over and over again, for a moment everything makes sense then you can’t see, and then can then you can’t,
And it just becomes a loop,
Like a Spirograph it looks beautiful on paper but once you try to follow it the more beautiful it is the harder it is to follow it. I’m really ******* tired of being a Spirograph. Beautiful on paper
But really hard to follow.

What is important to you in this life?
Who would you go to the ends of the earth for,
Never say no to,
Always be willing to help them in any struggle?
Are they able to be helped?
Are they willing to accept your advice and
Assistance, or are they stubborn and prideful?
Do they simply not want your help because
Someone else has a better offer?
If they are like this, why do you still persist
In your attempts to understand them,
Encourage them, and lead them to where
You think is best for them?
If this is your case, I believe you have the answer
To the most challenging question of all;
What is love?

I always wanted to be a writer.
I wanted to be able to take my thoughts and put them In words, take the Spirographs that are my thoughts and follow the constantly over lapping lines, but it’s so confusing
So messy.
You see I wanted to be a writer,
but every good writer has had a trauma, some sort of thing they went though, I thought I needed that to be a good writer,
In fact I wanted a darken past.
I wanted to be a wilted willow in sunflowers.
You see I asked for it.
You see I always wanted to be a writer,
I basically asked for it.

i am in a haze today. it is cloudy and beautiful outside. it is also pressing down on my chest and i struggle for air. i wore your shirt to bed last night and it helped steady my oxygen supply. i wish you were here to say my name and speak to me in my native tongue to remind who i am and where i've come from. i'm forgetting everything, slowly. recreating yourself is only good when you haven't done it five thousand times over. i just want to be me now. but how do i become me if there is no you? pick me up from the library and walk me to class. hold my hand and tell me that you will stay with me no matter how grey the sky is or how cold my fingers feel.

It’s like everything is still in slow motion, but also a silent film.
It’s like I’m not even sneaking out for a cigarette anymore,
I light one in the room with the door open.
It’s like I’m not trying.
My grades are dropping as well as my bags are growing,
They ask me if I’m sick and I say, yea
It’s the cold
I have a cold