As I cry myself to sleep,
I hear the fallen angels weep.
If I shall die before I wake,
the world will have one less mistake.

What am I scared of?
I'm scared of the dark.
Well not the dark itself,
but what might be lurking in it,
slinking through the shadows waiting to ***** out my life.
What am I scared of?
I'm scared of heights.
Because when I'm standing on the edge, looking into the unknown,
I have the overwhelming urge to jump.  
What am I scared of?
I'm scared of anything dead.
No not death itself, but the chills I get round a corpse.
The feeling of something beside me,
holding on to life.
What am I scared of?
I fear fear itself.
But what do you fear?
That's the real question.
What are you scared of?

I look at you and I’m unimpressed,

but I quickly look away when you meet my eye.

The things you say make my insides quake,

and it makes me angry that you make me feel.

I make friends with strangers and I flirt with girls,

My confidence is my calling card.

My cheesy pick up lines and charming smile,

are admirable traits that people point out.

But when my voice wavers and I force out a joke,

and I become impulsive to cover up my uncertainty,

its because I don’t know how to be me around you.

I get angry and I am forthright when I don’t like people.

But that doesn’t mean I’m cold.

I just have so many emotions inside that I start to lose control.

And when I find myself so attracted to you,

so confused,

trying to become distracted from you,

I start to make myself hate you,

because if I hate you,

then I won’t like you.

And I can go back to feeling like me.

I) Mama, I’m so tired. I’ve taken 10 hot showers and rubbed my skin raw but I still taste him in my mouth. I still feel him, trapped beneath my fingernails along with all the refusals I yelled out repeatedly. Mama, why didn’t he listen to me when I said ‘no’? He still lingers in the spaces between my thighs; he’s seared himself onto my skin, and it feels like the time I was 5 and playing with an iron. Except this time, I know the burn marks will not fade. They’re all over me mama, and I think I want to die.

II) Mama, it’s been four months now, and I flinch whenever someone touches me. There seems to be a problem with the synapses that weave themselves like tapestry across my brain. All they do is transmit warning signals and sometimes if you listen close enough, they scream danger when the boy in chemistry class intertwines his fingers with mine during a panic attack.

III) It’s summer now, Mama, and the beautiful boy from chemistry generates heat with me in my room, instead of within the whitewashed walls of the chemistry lab. You should see the way he looks at me, Mama. All the formulas in the world will never be able to explain the way he loves so selflessly. He’s different; gentle and slow, patient and kind. The corners of his eyes crinkle up when he smiles and god, when I’m with him, I almost start to believe in a heaven.

IV) I think I’m going to be okay, Mama. The burn marks are fading and my soul is healing. These days, I've started to take long walks on the beach with chemistry boy and at sunset, he pulls me into his arms and we just lie there, soaking in the explosion of colors above us. He tells me that he loves me, and I know this to be true because his heart is beating so fast; I think he just might combust. It is a beautiful life, Mama, and I know I’m going to be okay.