there were a lot of small lifesavers
but like the candy, they only lasted for a short while
and after the flavor of one was gone i would find a new one
going and going until i ran out and had to buy another bag
music was one of themwh
i would listen instead of think
friends were one of them
i would talk instead of sleep
dreams were one of them
i would dream with eyes wide open
writing was one of them
i’d write to keep myself hoping
you were one of them
but you were different than the rest
the others only lasted a few months
but your sweet flavor never left

i’d rather not be in rooms so small that every time a voice is spoken all eyes meet my two in accusation

i’d rather not be in a house so small that midnight trips to keep ones self from dying of accidental starvation are welcomed with a booming “Why are you still awake? Go back to sleep!” rather than a “i’ll see you in the morning, goodnight”

if rather not be in a house so small that every time something goes wrong i’m the one to blame because i’m the smallest of the small in this small house

i’d rather not live in a house where water bills matter less than haircuts and even haircuts don’t matter when it comes to me

i’d rather not live in a house where any time an outsider comes in they become afraid of the silence; never have they been an a house with no soul

i’d rather not live in a house where a bedroom needs to be kept clean at all times yet the living room could fall apart in shambles and we wouldn’t touch it for a week

i’d rather not live in a house where the walls are so think i can hear the voices on the other side speaking my name and saying terrible things

i’d rather be almost anywhere but here most of the time, but alas here i have to stay hoping that this all will end one day

weave
in and out
breathe
in and out
beat
up and down
feet
up and down
words
in my mouth
push
their way out
words
in my mouth
i
swallow them down
and smile delicately
as if i have not another thing to say
because who can stand
the lengthened sentences
of a romanticist ?
it seems, only me

I try to teach myself to stand on my own two feet
But i don’t know how well i can anymore
“Your grades are great”
“You’re really pretty”
“What do you have to worry about?”

I have to worry about how long i can push myself and how much of that studying i have to do tomorrow because i can’t stay awake on four hours of sleep through another day

I have to worry about how much this will bring down my grade compared to that because i don’t know how much homework i can force myself to do when i don’t even feel like leaving my bed

I have to worry about talking to my boyfriend for at least thirty minutes just so he doesn’t think i don’t love him anymore

I have to worry about sounding happy and looking happy and smiling happily and laughing happily

I HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT PRETENDING TO BE HAPPY

I have to worry about what to wear tomorrow
And the next day
And the next day because heaven forbid i come to school in my pajamas because i would loose all my social standing

I have to worry about how long it takes me to make that shake in the morning so i have time to have SOMETHING, just SOME calories in the morning so people can’t say “that’s why you’re too skinny” and just enough to keep my stomach from sounding like a whale, because God, do i know how people love to laugh at that

I have to worry about when i want to wear my makeup and when i don’t because i don’t want people to always expect makeup out of me but i still want to look nice

I have to worry about how i do my makeup because oh do i know how too much for a normal day or a simple slightly off shade can make everyone see me as a terrible monster

I have to worry about the color of my hair and the colors that i wear, does it bring out my eyes? who even cares?
Me.
Everybody.

I have to look perfect i have to seem perfect my grades have to be perfect my outfits have to be perfect
I have to be
Perfect

Ladies and Gentlemen,
That is what i have to worry about