We are, according to society and this grand world that we live in: Nothing.

Compared to the greatest of Gods and vastness of universes, we are not even able to completely understand how we are not even the dust in the wind.

How we might matter so little to the world.
And at the same time, how little the world can matter to us.

But what about us?

What about us is so special?

Why do we fight for our legacy? Why do we try so hard that it hurts? Why do we care?

Well...

Why the hell not?

It is just so easy to disregard that as an answer?

Maybe the reason, we don't accept "why not?" as an answer it because it's so simple.

It is so easy to just say that something is because well.... it is!

But we overcomplicate that. We try to justify everything in its complexity and we find plot holes, or evidence of a crime, something to praise or blame for the answer to "Why?".

I stopped asking that question simply because there isn't a point to asking a question you already know the answer to.

So again, now that I know why we do things the way we do...
What is so special about us being like that?

I see you, you know.
I see everything.
I pay attention to the small things.
And I write about the details when you don't care to notice them yourself.

I do this in order to earn the title of "Poet" but I don't have the goods to back it up yet.

Yet...

I see you.
And I also see us.
I see the suffering that we go through, and try to make sense of it.
I see a car, and picture the destination.
I see a sign, and imagine the paint still drying.
I see myself, and I am left speechless at what could've happened to me, and what I was lucky enough to get, assuming that I got something good.

And I mean, that's true because I had you for a time.

Promises can be empty.
Friend circles can be full.
Text messages can be messy, but I can translate.
And my words will always make absolutely no sense.

You are everything.
And so am I.
We can not be insignificant, or overlooked if we are this present.

Your smile could probably build another universe where we aren't so small in comparison to everything.

And I will never overlook that.

Because every good thing about us is still true.
Why?
Like I told you, it exists... it is.

So... why not?

I would still apologize.
But I would ask why it was so easy for her to leave me.

I would ask...

Can't you just...

Stay?

Please...

Don't leave me.
Again.

I picked out a funeral song back when I was still alive.

Of course I did all the preparations when I was alive. I still sang the song of my life long before I ended up here.

I still want a good song to "play me out".
So I picked "Save Rock And Roll" by Fall Out Boy to usher me into Elton John styled heaven white tuxedos and all.

But death is so simple. It happens and nobody can stop it. I don't need to plan my funeral when I know you can do it for me.

I would joke about writing your eulogy, like we expected you to go first. And we didn't back then. Back when I was still alive.

So now that I'm... here.
Pick the song for me.
I think you know which one would put me to rest.

Shout the eulogy at everyone, tell them how this wasn't supposed to happen, but it does. My family will be as sad as I was thinking about when they would end up here. But now they just watch.

And I guess I that's all I can do now.

I promise you I am safe every night.

I don't need a bodyguard.
I don't need a guardian angel.

I know you're out there somewhere away from me.

And that's okay.

I should tell you I still imagine myself in the hospital.

I sometimes wish I was in critical condition just so you would have a reason to talk to me without feeling weird, awkward or forced into it.

Although hospitalization is a weird way of forcing you to see me out of guilt.

Mostly because if I was dying...

You would show up only if you really did care.

It is not enough for me to just let you go.
I may have stopped talking, or stopped crying.
But I never stopped hurting.

And I reach out, I hope for you with all I can. I'm still on your side.

So if you end up at my hospital bedside...

I want to hear you say it.

That you care.
That you never stopped caring.
That you actually want me around.
That you want me to live.

Or just that you don't want me to die thinking that you didn't give a ****.

Because that's what this still feels like.

That's what walking away does to a person.

I'm safe here. I will not go anywhere.

But I still hold out optimism for you.
For us.

But I was told, "Things will not go back to the way they were."

So I guess that optimism is just ******* right?
It doesn't mean anything.

I know you wish I would just simply tell you this face to face.
But in all honesty...

I'm not brave.
I'm not as strong as you thought I was.

So I write instead.
You told me I could write to you anytime.
And you would be here.

But now you're gone.
And I can't do anything about it.

So I will continue to pray for your safety for as long as I can.

Because I don't know when I'll see you again.
And I've told you I fear the day when I don't.
You told me I would.
But that was before...

Things are different now.
And despite all the pain...

I'm still safe.
And I'm still...

Holding on.

It feels like a trial.
Like everyone knows you're guilty
And yet they still want to hear you defend yourself
Because they still want to know
For whatever reason

"Do you like your pain?", They ask.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

"So all of this... is what you want. Like you don't even want to get better."

"No."

"Why do you keep feeling sorry for yourself? You know it's not getting you anywhere."

"Yeah. I do know that. But I don't know how to get out of it."

"It's so easy."

"You can't possibly know how difficult this has been for me. For 4 months --"

"Stop making excuses, whether or not you spent the last 4 months feeling like **** doesn't mean a **** thing. You did that all on your own. And yet you are refusing help."

"Because I still believe I can do this myself."

"And how well has that worked?"

"Please stop."

"Should we call a witness?"

"NO. Please no. I'm begging you."

The whole court stares at me
The witnesses are in sight, waiting to place the blame on somebody...anybody

I can hear thunder outside the courthouse.
It's about time we had a storm.

"Please don't call a witness.
I can tell you everything
And you'll know that it's true because nobody will object saying that I'm wrong. This isn't that kind of case.
But they do not need to answer for my crimes, nobody here does except for me. The person who committed those crimes. Justice... right?"

I have told this story so many times

I might as well start crying again

I feel like the witnesses won't even defend me. I don't give them a reason to
I don't even say their names
Even if I keep someone anonymous
The truth will come out
And everyone will know

But it won't solve anything
And I will continue to feel like I'll never be happy
Because this trial... has changed my life
I guess it still is
Because it doesn't feel like I've even left the stand.

Speak up
Stop shaking
This is not part of your character
I'm not mad
I believe you are completely wrong
You continue to believe a lie
Get you hands away from you face, stop shaking, breathe, and say something
I am not causing you anything
If you don't like it here, get out, go live under someone else's roof
You can **** me
I hate that they did this to you
I blame them
I'm not the bad guy
You make me out to be this monster
This is not you
Where is my daughter?

And as I'm walking to my car...

In a church parking lot.

With the rain pouring down and the sky dark...

I start to shout:

Hey it's RAINING!!
Do you know what we do when this happens?

Nobody answers.

I stretch my arms out and feel the cool air.

As if I was in another conversation I shout:

Because I believed she saved my life!!

Look at me, I'm hysterical!

I can't stop laughing.

I've cried so much that my pain is just... funny.

I get in my car and blast the music as I drive home.

The rain really coming down, so much that my sight is almost hazy.
And I fear that I might hydroplane my car into oblivion.

But as I drive smoothly, I start to feel a sense of peace.
And I didn't care if I was about to die or not.

"Hey God, if I die right now... I think I'm okay."

And then I proceed to hit a bump and scare myself into driving again...

Not my smartest moment.

But I do eventually make it home.
I turn off the car and just watch the rain hit the windshield.
Watching the droplets fill the windows and blur the scene.

And I think to myself:

*How did I get here in my life?