how many times a day
do you close your eyes
and say
"there will be leaves
and flowers on the trees again."
reminding yourself that
it doesn't rain forever.
but it's been cloudy for at least
3 months and you can't
remember the last time
the sun showed through
your eyes.

I wonder why as humans we try so hard for so long.
we work and we destroy ourselves for things
that never seem to work out in the end
but we keep trying.
it's hope.
hope is going to **** us.
it's that little thing in our hearts and brains that tell us to keep going
when we're already worn down and torn up to the bone.
it tells us go try one more time
give it one more shot.
hope is going to **** us.

I can't decide if the grass is greener on the other side or if it just keeps getting brown as I walk to that side.
and I thought maybe if I drank myself to sleep tonight I'd stop having dreams about me dying.
have you ever noticed how the sky can be a bright blue on one side and the darkest black on the other right before it storms?
do you wonder if the bright blue side knows the dark black thunderstorm is coming,
or is it a surprise just as it is to us?
maybe if the storm waited a few more days or minutes it wouldn't have been as bad.
maybe it was always that bad.
maybe the rain is what makes the grass greener.

the people around me
don't understand what it's like
to be stuck living in
what seems like the smallest town in
the world
with a mind and dreams bigger
than the whole galaxy.
it feels like suffocating.
like each day passing I'm going
deeper into the water.
only hoping to one day
be set free.

I was always stuck.
always in a rough patch but I was also
always inspired.
and no matter what, I just kept
writing and writing and writing
and trying to yell
to scream about how I felt
but all I was screaming at was
blank pages.
and blank pages listen better than most people
and I could've sworn I was absolutely
out of my mind,
but I don't think I cared anymore.

And you see, thats the thing about me,
i don't know what i want.
one minute i want to live in this
beautiful city, and the next i want
to burn it to the ground.
I'm like a walking paradox
i want to quit but i also
want so badly to never stop trying.
and i'm never sure about anything
but i'm 100% sure about you.

there is no worse feeling in
the whole world than
trying so ******* hard
to only fail.
like i swear to god it smells
like this house is burning down
but everyone knows it burnt down
years ago.
and maybe i'm a little drunk,
but maybe i always am.
like god didn't give me
the power to do anything,
except write.
like i will never be heard by
anyone.
and my face lotion
smells just like you,
but now a days i smell
a house burning down
and i think it smells like you.
and the word "sorry" seems
to slip out of my mouth a lot
more than it should.
i think thats what a
burning house is like.
maybe its saying sorry, agreeing, and failing
even though you know
you shouldn't.

Have you ever wanted to take away
someone else's problems so much
that they become your own?
You want to get them a one way
ticket to God knows where
and say "Just for you and I."
so the world will stop crashing at their feet.
and God knows it'll stop crashing at yours too.
You love someone so much that
you just want want to take away their
pain so bad
that it starts to become your own.

you woke up one day and ripped my
heart out of my chest
and I'm happy that I picked it up
and grabbed it back from you before you left.
I think you thought I spent my time searching for my other half
but what you didn't know was that
I was never half.

I know there is going to be a day where I will be able to sit on my basement couch and not think of all the nights you had spent on it.
I will be able to eat my favorite foods again without thinking of you.
I'll be able to sleep in my bed, alone, without feeling lonely because I had used to sleep alone only two days out of the week.
I'll be able to walk through a nice town with lights stringing in the trees without thinking about how we used to walk hand in hand
for days together.
I will be able to sit in my car and look at the passenger seat without picturing you sitting there with tears welling in your eyes saying
"I can't do this anymore."
I will come alive again.
I always do.

you are going to build your walls so high
and one day you will meet someone who
you'll let tear your walls down
and then one day they will wake up and change their mind
and it will feel like the ground is going to break
underneath you with each step you take
and you'll not want to wash your clothes or sheets ever again with the fear that
you're washing them out.
and you'll feel like you're going to die.
but the sun will shine again one day and your walls will build themselves back up.
you will be okay.

stop destroying your life
and yourself
for people who
don't deserve it.

sometimes I think about what I would do if someone handed me a liquid that ended my life right away without feeling any pain or putting in any effort.
a few years ago I probably would have taken it without hesitation,
but now I would stop and think about how the sky turns pink when the sun sets in the evening.
I would think about how my dogs lick and jump when I first walk through the door after a few short hours.
I would think about how the sun reflects off the buildings in the city on a beautiful day and how good it feels to look at while drinking a cup of coffee-
I would think about how at ease we laid on the train ride home that day and how whenever we're standing under a sky full of stars we look at eachother instead of up.
life is full of little moments that set us free

*do not drink the liquid.

how many times
have you told yourself
you would be better
off this way.

I can't believe it took
me this long to
realize people
will never be able to
save you,
but only destroy you.
it's either yourself
or nothing.

alcohol ruined my life
and I wasn't even the one
drinking it.

It's so hard to believe
In any type of light when
All you see is
Darkness.

You don't understand it.
you won't understand it until they tell
you they'll save you and then never
show up.
until you feel the glass shattering inside you.
trying to tear down walls that won't budge.
people start thinking you're better and
you smile and nod because you
even start to believe the lie.
You become your own scary movie.
and they don't understand because
you're fine.
you always were.
they don't know you're made of broken glass
and that's fine because
they wouldn't understand.

I think the silent write.
I can't get out a sentence without stuttering
or sounding like a complete idiot.
I can go over a sentence 12 times in my head
but when it comes to saying it,
I am not capable.
but I can put a pen to a piece of paper
and write you a story.
I write because I cannot speak.

I hope where you are the sun is out and the sky is clear, because here in Chicago it's been a bit colder since you left.
Rains a bit more.
But maybe that's how it always is.
Or maybe not,
Maybe that's just how I feel.

One night I was sick and tired
of being weak
so I looked up at the sky and screamed for something to save me,
it turns out that I had received a pair of wings.

I am not sure I would always call things a coincidence but maybe more of a miracle.
Like the way flowers tend to bloom in the concrete cracks of sidewalks, or even in the darkest parts of my mind.
Miracles, I do believe that.