I could write a meaningful story with a meaningful message for you to carry with you into the future and beyond.

No, I don't think I have enough time to create a picture in your mind of what I have to say.

There is nothing to gain or give to the words I write in the time I have left.

How about 5?

< 5. Would you be able to pull this off by then?

I can't and I have < 10.

Maybe it's easy for you, but accept the fact that it is not easy to write good poetry with purpose and meaning and feeling and anything that is important to you in < 10 minutes...

Do you skip stairs? I do it all the time. It’s like a pattern I’ve done since I was little, skipping every other stair. But enough about me.

You’re going somewhere, and to get there you had to go up these stairs. It can be annoying and tiring sometimes, but you do it anyway. Because you’ve got somewhere to be, and this staircase is just a small incline, a small effort to get there. Now don’t get me wrong, elevators are nice too, but you don’t have to do anything but push buttons to get somewhere.

So staircases make you work a bit harder, so what? Why do I care? Well, it reminds me of being able to do simple things, and how we go about our days as if we were made to scale mountains or jump out of airplanes.

And we remember that the small stuff, like climbing stairs, is still something we do because we can. And we forget that a lot of the time. So don’t forget, no matter how many stairs you’ve got to climb, you’re still going up. Thanks for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

So you wear a watch right? Me too. Time is a resource that we forget we have. We always wish we had more of it. So we keep track of it all the time. With our phones and alarms and our watches. We keep time close to us to that we don’t lose it. We always try to manage time to make the most of our lives.

And yet sooner or later, we run out of time and our watches don’t seem to matter anymore.

Some of us manage our time too much, and we forget to live. And some of us waste time, and some of us want to forget time. But whether we acknowledge time or not, it’s always there.

And you know that right?

Your watch will prove that much. So my advice to you, is to remember that time exists and to take advantage of what you’ve got right now. Whether it be an hour, or 5 minutes, just take some time to live by you, and not by time. Don’t wait, because time won’t wait for you. Thanks for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

It’s hard to believe that something shining so bright could be so far away from where we are. To think that something like the moon or the stars seems closer to us than it is. And we’ve been there, we’ve been to the moon. Isn’t that amazing? And yet we still look up at the dark night sky…

Looking for something...

What that is, I don’t know. But I guess you see something in that sky right? Whether or not you’re searching for something up there is up to you.

But hey, that sky looks amazing doesn’t it?

So maybe you’ve got a wish to throw up there along with the other shooting stars. And I wish you the best of luck with that.

So keep stargazing if you must, maybe a shooting star will appear for you. I hope it does. And hey, maybe something will happen up there, you just have to keep watching to find out. Thanks for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

Hey,

Yeah I know, you weren’t exactly expecting this, trust me I get it. But I’m not big on writing long letters so I’ll keep it short.
You decided to read this so you might be curious as to what I have to say. Well, to be completely honest, I wanted somebody to talk to.

But listen, this letter is the first of many that I will handwrite and leave for complete strangers. I’m not trying to fix the world, and I’m not trying to change lives. But I think that we all need a little more good in our lives. I guess I should tell you that wherever you are in life right now, keep going.

Let some curiosity take over and open up to the world for a bit. Take this week by storm and live a little. Yeah, I get that this may or may not be the best week of your life. But take a minute to just experience what you’ve got. Appreciate the small things like the sunshine or the quiet. I hope that you’re feeling okay, but I think I’m running out of paper. Maybe you’ll see another on of my letters sometime soon. It was nice talking to you. Thank you for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

That is as honest as it gets.

And I'm not talking about all the political BS and how the world becomes more and more broken each day.

I've already put that in a spot in my mind where I don't venture often.

I try not to venture at all really.

Most days, I am awake but not conscious.

I am eating and not filling.

I am composing and not thinking.

Very much has changed about my life and I do know that most of it was my own **** fault. I have been there.

I have one person I wish I could talk to always.
She is close to me and not close in range.

I am sometimes the embodiment of a donut.
Sweet on the outside with no center.
No soul.
Nothing there deep down.

I am sometimes a corpse who hasn't yet realized its full potential.

A bed is no resting place for a lazy student turned zombie.

I know these things.

So why did 2017 make me this way?

Well... it didn't.

A year by itself cannot make you do anything, it only marks the time that I marked day by day in hopes that the next day would be harder to hate the last.

It is a constant reminder that time is the only thing you know when you don't know God.

It is an epitaph to your future saying "I'm sorry I knew the way out and just didn't take it".

It is to shove in your face that sometimes no resolution is the only kind of resolution you really like to hold.

If only for 365 or 366 days you didn't hate yourself for it.

That you are not only lazy, but self loathing and lazy.

I didn't come home from a war or natural disaster, but I came back a changed person.

And as the clock proceeded to march forward to midnight.

I felt nothing.

This was the second year in a row where my family didn't celebrate with another to bring in the new year. No, they went to bed.

Or at least, most of them did.

2017 was 2 parts trauma, and 1 part self concocted pathological fear of everything.

Eleven... out of twelve months... were disastrous.

And I did not even try to make it better.

Lying is not my strong suit.

So I will once again pass with the resolutions nobody tries to keep.

Somethings are supposed to get better.

This may be the first year when my birthday is once again a forgotten 24 hours nobody knew was important until I said so.

So yeah, 2017 was the worst year of my life.

I just hope it wasn't the worst year of my life so far.

My first thought when I wake up:

Is that I hate you.
You make me so mad
And you cause me so much pain.
You -- are my reflection.

And I'll say a prayer by my bed just for you.
Dear God, teach me how to love myself.
Amen.

Is my last thought when I go to bed.

I guess you enjoy the sound of a good singer or backing track. Am I wrong to assume that you walk around with your earbuds in, and the music turned up to shut out the noise?

I’ve spent a lot of time listening to the music through my headphones, but not the music throughout every day. Listening to thunderstorms, or birds singing, or the school bell. You’re very lucky to enjoy the music as you hear it. It’s part of the reason why music reaches out to so many people. It’s one of the things I really love about this world. It’s just beautiful isn’t it? It kind of makes me feel bad for people who are deaf.

So listen, music is also part of your communication in a way. It complements your personality and style. So maybe you’re walking down the halls to your favorite song and just enjoying life. I mean, how great is that? Pretty great if you ask me.

In all honesty, thanks for being a musical person. It’s the sort of thing that opens you up to the world if you let it. So keep listening to whatever music you like. But don’t tune out the world when you do. Thanks for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

When walking through a gravesite, you forget that several feet under lies the body of a person you may or may not know.

I have a surname and plot number...

This could have been my family.

Maybe it is.
Maybe it was.

I don't feel worthy enough to sit in the grass before the tombstones.

To place my hands on the stones... they're so cold.

I've read the inscriptions.

Never forgotten by wife and son.
Faithful unto death, may he rest in peace.
A soldier of the great war.
Known unto God

Known unto God

Known unto God.

I have a surname and a plot number written in roman numerals, somebody tell me where I can find the plot under the number 30.

I ran through the gravesite only to find 29.

And I ran out of time.

So tell me where I can find him.

After all... an unknown family wrapped in a common surname is all I really know.

1.    The condition I have scrawled across my face looks like a frown, it’s so red that I might as well be bleeding anyway.

2. School is where most of my family is.

3. My teachers are NOT like my parents.

4. When I say yes, I actually mean no.

5. When I say no, I actually mean yes.

6. When I say “I don’t know”, it actually does mean “I don’t know”

7. You can tell that I like confusing people.

8. A turtle’s spine and ribs are fused together with its shell so they are stuck together. I believe this is an accurate representation of the relationship I have with my bed.

9. Remind me to thank my English B class for introducing me to slam poetry

10. Remind me to thank the Button Poetry YouTube channel for countless hours of awesomeness

11. Ever since I got into slam poetry, I seem to really like the sound of snapping.

12. We interrupt this program to bring you an awkward silence…

13. That awkward silence was where you were supposed to snap.

14. The people who need to hear this poem will never hear this poem

15. I wrote more than 10 poems finished an unfinished. And yet I choose to tell this story.

16. I try to convince myself that I’m not a poet, only a musician. But us musicians just take poetry and add whatever music we have lying around our messy rooms.

17. Random acts of kindness don’t seem to be looking for me, and yet I still have hope for the future.

18. I put capitals in words that shouldn’t be capitalized, but this mostly happens when I type my lab reports for my science classes.

19. If my assignment is due on Monday morning, I will purposely wait until Sunday night just to see if I really can beat the clock.

20. When I don’t finish the assignment I purposefully procrastinated on, yes, I feel bad about it. Yes, I know I could’ve done better.

21. I shake in my sleep for no reason, is it really this hard to stay still?

22. I am the most impatient person I know. So after learning that true love doesn’t happen like it does in the movies, I decided to give up waiting and I just moved on.

23. I’d like to believe that time travel would benefit people, but for people like me, we realized that fixing the past doesn’t make up for the problems of the future.

24. My friends at school are the coolest people I know!

25. I’m trying to figure out the meaning of life as if it were a math problem.

26. The words “Thank you” Don’t seem like a long enough phrase to mean something, when you really want it to mean something.

27. My window is shining with the glow of the amber streetlight on this street corner, and I wonder if anyone will walk by my house.

28. The first time I read this poem, I will wonder why I wrote it.

29. The last time I read this poem, I won’t know it will be the last time

30. It’s not what I said, it’s how I said it. And if you applaud at the end, I’ll know I did something right.

So you must have something you really care about to call yourself a fighter. There is a certain amount of pride that comes along with that.

I’ll be honest with you, this world will try to bring you down, along with everything you care about. Maybe not all the time, but there will be days when it feels like the world stopped caring. But for some reason you didn’t give up… Why? I guess only you know that.

Everybody has something they’re willing to fight for, and maybe you had to fight physically or internally. But you have something you’re willing to defend. Whether it be your family or possessions, beliefs, or even yourself. And I get that, believe me I do. I may not know you, but I get wanting to stand up for something.

Because everybody’s got something worth fighting for. Why else do we decide to defend ourselves for what we’ve got? So keep fighting. In some cases, it keeps us alive. Take care of yourself. It seems like you’re doing a good job at doing that already. Thanks for finding my letter

~Letter Writer

What can I say? I would love to be you. If you really do approach the world with love instead of hate, then maybe you could teach me to be less cynical about the world.

I don’t consider myself to be a hateful person. But It seems more difficult to be a loving person instead. In a way, you could just see it as confusion, but love is a complicated thing, it always has been.

I’ve never truly understood love in general, but I never expected to. So really, how do you manage to live life while still loving? Well, I admire that you can live life like that. Whereas I still have to learn.

So use this to your advantage, remind yourself of why you love, who you love , and why it’s all worth it. Because this is something only you can understand.

Because love is different for everybody. Love may be weird and confusing, but it’s something we need. And who am I to argue? I may not know much about love. But I can agree it’s worth it. I hope you’ve got love wherever you’re at. Maybe you can help me figure it all out. Thanks for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

Growing up in a Christian home, you'd expect someone like me to have committed myself to working for God since I was 4 or 5.

Aha...

But no. I used to think that too.

I was 11 and it was the middle of the night. I was crying and sweating bullets calling out to God to save me. This is the kind of thing I will not be required to explain to a skeptic or somebody who questions why I do thing the way I do. I have never been very open about faith during my life. But this isn't about me.

Let's talk about something else, so there's this guy, Isaiah. A prophet, said to have understood and described the mystery of Jesus. Something people today would never figure out. Isaiah would prophesies the future in such a way that you wouldn't know he was talking about the future. He wrote songs about the revelation songs... I write songs...

I know a little boy at my church, his name is Isaiah, and part of me wonders if he will write song, or poetry praising God along with it.

Let's talk about silver, a metal used as currency, or plates written on in biblical times, and its brother metal gold, is seen in the garden of Eden, where everything was perfect.

Gold is seen as perfection. Heaven paved the streets with it, can you imagine the glory? But no, silver, seen as second place to gold, seen as "not-as-pure". Because silver will tarnish right? I am silver, tarnish is my sin, I will never be gold in this skin.

And Isaiah was silver turned gold by God and now Isaiah, you are on silver, printed with your own words.

Here me now:

Written in Isaiah Chapter 55 verse 9.

"For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts higher than your thoughts." Says the Lord!

This is not to say that because I am religious that I'm better than anybody. This is to remind myself that I am to be humble, and human, and silver.

Not perfect by any means, but working towards a life I've needed since that night when I was 11.

I am human, and Christian, and nothing can change that. this silver reminds me that I'm not perfect.

This verse reminds me...

That I still have work to do.

You ever walk from place to place with your earbuds in and music turned up? I do that a lot. I’m a hallway walker myself, used to run everywhere at first but not anymore.

So since you’re a hallway walker, where are you going? You got somewhere to be? I find myself walking halls a lot. Sometimes it’s for absolutely no reason. And sometimes we all just need to walk out our problems or feelings.

You get used to seeing the same walls and doors along the way. Sometime that halls are empty and hollow, and sometimes you’re trying to walk through a crowd...

Have you ever wondered about where other people are going? Maybe they’re walking the same way you are, or maybe they’re walking to nowhere. Either way, we’ve all got somewhere we have to go. I hope you make it there safely.

And hey, don’t forget where you’re going, but don’t forget where you came from either. The journey is just as important as the destination. Thanks for finding my letter. Now keep walking, I mean, don’t you have somewhere to be?

~Letter Writer

How’s the view out there? Did you count the cars as they drove by? Is it snowing out there?

I’m only asking because I don’t know how you see it. I’ve looked out my fair share of windows and seen the world. Almost makes you grateful that we have something this amazing to look at. Even when the storms roll in, you feel good that you’re inside watching a natural chaos.

Something about that can make you wonder why we deserve something like rainbows or sunsets. It’s nice to just take some time to appreciate the simple thing like a good view from you corner of the world. Some of us don’t do that as much as we should. So do us all a favour and stare out a window for just a little longer. Not everybody will see the view the way you do. I hope you can see the beauty from where you are.

And hey, it’s a good reminder of what we’ve got on this planet. Enjoy your view, it must be beautiful. Thanks for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

Hey listen, I’m not here to criticize you for spending 10 hours on YouTube or Facebook or Tumblr or whatever. I think we’re all at least a little bit guilty of going overtime online. And it’s not like that's entirely a bad thing. But sometimes we get stuck with things we don’t really need.

And I’m not asking you to abandon the internet for a day of anything. And it’s not like I have a whole lot of influence. I am just writing on a page from a person you don’t know. But still, you gotta wonder where you’ve been when you get lost online. Trust me, I’ve been there. Sometimes, we need to wake up and remember to live life again. Not because we should, but because we can. Because you’re more than you realize.  

So don’t get lost if you don’t have to. Not just on the internet, but anywhere. Remind yourself of where you’re going, and make it there. So now it’s up to you, what you decide to do is out of my control. All I can do is wish you good luck. Thanks for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

I appreciate that you decide to work well. Not everybody puts the best of themselves into their work. Some of us never had to live hard lives or put up with the world treating us like we don’t matter. But some of us have something we’re looking to achieve, something we want.

Something we’re willing to work for. Now I don’t know what or who it is that you work for, but for some reason you work. I hope that whatever it is you’re working for, that it’s worth it.

Not all of us have something worth fighting for, or working for. So don’t forget why you work so hard. But also remember to take it easy sometimes. You may not have time, or maybe you don’t want to, but you should at least try.

I hope that you get what you want, and that the hard work pays off in time. Thanks for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

Hey, I’m sure we all procrastinate at least some of the time. We all have something we should do, and then the things we want to do. And yet we choose easy over practical. Maybe because we’d rather listen to ourselves over others and that’s not a bad thing. But we forget that we aren’t the only ones living life.

So maybe we should stop wasting time and do something meaningful again. And sure, maybe the reason why you’re procrastinating is because you’re bored and I get that. But hey, it’s up to you what happens next. You could ignore me and this letter wouldn’t matter, and that’s okay. You’re not gonna hurt my feelings. Just don’t forget that you don’t have to stay in one spot forever. Take a walk or strike up a conversation, write a letter.

It might not be for you, but it helped me. So there, I’ve said my piece, now you decide what to do from here. I’ll just wait here. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere just yet. Thanks for finding my letter.

~Letter Writer

Here it is in a nutshell:

I want to know that it isn't all for you.

That you knew we were part of this too.
That you knew we went through the same kind of pain.

That you missed me.

That you wanted to make it better.

But if this is all there is.

I'm still going to take it.

Because it's better than nothing.

But hey,

I was there.

I was there.

I suffered.

It isn't all about you.

You can't tell me that you missed anything about our friendship?

Then I guess there wasn't one to begin with.

I almost went to the same dark and empty spaces.

I tried so suppress everything.

I suffered.
And I suffered just as much as you.

You don't get to "win" at having the worst outcome.

Nobody won.

Just because you weren't there to see the pain, doesn't mean it wasn't there.

Just because you never saw me do anything, doesn't mean it never happened.

I was here.

And I've been here the whole time.

Okay.

I'm done being mad.

I'm done.

Being mad.

You have to let me feel this okay?

And ******* if you think that we are getting better.
We're not.
You're not.

Everyone is sick of hearing about this.
Why can't you drop it?

Because it means something right?
I've fought for this.
I deserve a better ending than this.

You coward.
You've done nothing but run.
You can't keep work on track to save your life.
Everything has gone awry and you can't help but watch from the sidelines.

What the hell are you doing?
Pick yourself up and be happy like everyone tells you to.
Nobody wants to be around someone who makes them feel as sad as they are.
Your emotions are ******* contagious.
Why are you doing this to yourself?

It would be so easy to just be happy like everyone else.

But no, you decide to be a ******* and be stubborn about it.

Stop it.
STOP IT!

I don't deserve this.
Give me something else.

I will not drive myself to the edge by standing on one higher than most of my hopes.

Don't give me what can happen.
I want good and I want it from somewhere I can't comprehend.
I want my life.

Don't you?

Nobody gets what they want.

Stop.

Where are you?

Stop it.

You are ******* unbelievable.

Don't.

You're sick and susceptible to getting even more sick the more you haul your body around. You act like you're drunk, and you don't even care.

I do care.

Act like it.

I do.

*******.

Nobody suspects what they can't bring themselves to see.
You don't even want help do you?
You just want this pain until you're nothing but that.

I WANT TO GO HOME..

I want to go home...

Have you been writing suicide notes again?

No.

Don't end them with "I'll be home soon".

I don't.

I don't end them because I'm not finished here.

I don't want this.
I don't need this.

YOU HAVE TO LET ME FEEL THIS.

Please.

Do not make me guilty for crimes I didn't even know existed.
People have done worse things.
And yet they get second chances all the **** time.

Where are you?
Stop it.

Who are you kidding? You're nothing.

You can't decide if you want to suffer or make others suffer for what they did to you. So instead you complain like a ***** and nothing gets done.

Why can't you just accept what happened?

Because it meant everything to me.

And nothing has happened to acknowledge how much this changed my life in the worst way possible.

Stop chasing me.  

You know I can't do that.

Haven't I already paid for all of this?

Yes?

So what gives? Something has to.

Or someone.

I already have.

And I'm ready to go home.

Me?

That can't possibly be right.
I never planned on being this kind of crazy, but I don't hate it. This is not what we expected and yet somehow we're okay with it.

I'm being very vague, I know. But only some of us are going to know what happened. So I don't need to shout it to the rest of the world. The rest of the world doesn't really need to know what happened to us.

I'm not afraid to die some days.

Mainly because when I do get on with living, I get caught up in being so busy that I don't have time for death.

Or maybe that death will be gracious enough not to have time for me.

I wish I knew how to pick up the pieces of my life and try to put them together without losing anything on the way.

You know that I don't belong to anyone. And that no one belongs to me, I am not one to claim anything for myself.

I think that you are awesome. And you can decide to throw that to the back pages of your life story and I won't be mad at you. I'll just decide to keep writing and maybe the book won't seem so heavy on your heart.

But even as I say all of these great things about you. I cannot tell you that I am sure of what will happen to us. You can't have me.

And I will not be able to explain why. But I will say that I feel comfortable where we are now. Held in hugs and folded away with stray sheets of paper. I don't want to lose you, but I cannot say with confidence that I can be what you want.

Because as much as I care about you. We must understand that we are single people looking for connections in the network of our closest friends and family. And we don't always find what we're looking for.

And that is okay.

So when we decide to stop.
I will still call you gorgeous.
I will still walk with you down hallways.
I will still lean on you in the worst of times
I will still call on your name.
I will still call you awesome.
I will still call you amazing.
I will still call you beautiful.

I will still call you...

And I hope you will still call me.

Hi!

My name is ___ and I'm _ years old. My favourite subject is ___ and I like to ____ in my spare time. I believe in __ and from time to time I also go ___.

My family is pretty cool, I've got siblings and I really enjoy my time with my family. My father however is currently ___ and my mom is trying to cope with that.

My school is very ___, but I enjoy being there anyway. My friends are very ___ and I enjoy my time at school, it's a nice time to enjoy my own existence in a building.

But you don't want to live my life. It's too ____. Underneath this skin lies the ___ I try to hide. I'm constantly ___ and ___.

Why am I just so ___ with this?!

You don't know how much I go through. You barely know me. There is always information lost in translation. You shouldn't feel bad that you don't know me. How could you? You're missing something. I can tell you what it is.

You-- are missing ____.

Whether or not it's also over...


Is not up to me.

You...

Are still in a relationship.

I have never been in one.

You... are travelling to Costa Rica.

I went to France a million years ago.

With..
YOU...

Are still subscribed to my YouTube channel.
And I have no idea why.

For all I know, you're only subscribed because you don't go on YouTube all that often...

Therefore... you've forgotten.

I don't blame you.

I'd like to forget me too.

I... am lonely.

You.. not so much or at least it seems that way..

I... am blind to my own pain.

You... are probably the same way.

You... still keep certain people as friends on social media despite how things ended.

I... don't even have Facebook.
Or Twitter.
Or Snapchat.

Or anything that would make me any "Friend" of yours.

You have no idea what's happened to me.

And vice versa.

You... have changed your hair for the hundredth time.

I have cut my hair for the first time in months.

I... have no idea what I'm doing.

And you are going to be set to be a history buff.

Funny thing... history huh?

How you will go on to study world history.

While I fall apart over our history.

What a mystery, the inconsistency of our lives right?

Because we weren't supposed to be friends.

I was never supposed to send you songs.
I haven't in 7 months give or take.

I cannot bare the weight of an unwanted conversation.

I have been told not to worry about hurting people.

But I don't worry about things I have already done.

So congratulations, you got out while you could.

And I deserve it.

On any other day, I would asked you to be alone with me.

But tonight.

I'll just be here.

And yet...

I wish we could talk about something else...

Like music.

I'm no longer one of your favourite artists.

Okay.

I'm glad we still have something in common.

I wrote the date at the top of the page.

And nothing else.

I flew into this day from the second flight and stayed up the entire day.

And yet...

I wrote nothing.

I want someone to love me as much as I want to love God.

And yet all I want is a day where I don't feel so alone here.

When I tell my testimony, it becomes a tragedy known as my "6 - month story".

Unique in its weight, age, and mental destruction.

And I'm a broken person, you know that.

But hear me now, I'm trying to say what's important.

I don't write much about God these days, but I find myself in a position where I need to say... something.

I don't blame God for what happened to me. If anything, I blame myself. And I know blaming God gets me nowhere.

But being on this camp ground for the fifth year in a row seemed different, knowing I may be older, but wisdom and experience has fallen beneath me.

The friends I knew, younger than I am, and yet they surpass me.

And I fell into sadness again.

An easy crier, I am.

But then, suddenly there was something here.

A curious voice, wondering how I came up with all these song titles, and claiming how awesome I am.

And me... being absolutely floored at how much you wanted to talk to me. Let alone... learn my songs?

Nobody has ever done that before.

Suddenly I don't feel so alone. I feel like I can sing again, like I can smile again, and this two hour session with you learning my song is the longest surge of happiness I've had in months.

And I don't want it to stop.

I feel... at home.

This old campground, and having someone to talk to.

Or hold my hand and tell me it's going to be okay...

Instantaneous connection.

I've had it before. With many other people who have left me what feels like a lifetime ago.

I fear I may get too attached, or scare you away.
That I might find a peace here in your friendship that may pull itself away before I can say "thank you"...

So..

Thank you.

If God has helped me through anything in life, He didn't never had to give me riches, or fame, or reputation.

He gave me people.

So many people.

It's been so long since anyone has been a new friend to me.

And I'm so glad that you found me. Even if it was ten years later.

Time has a way of being like that.

God being bigger than time, knowing something like this would happen.

Of all the people who could've found me at that time in my life...

I'm glad He picked you.

I know, I'm sappy and cliché, and write sentimental things too early because I'm afraid of losing good people. Mostly because I have lost so many already.

But I hope you'll stay.

I'll have that sad song written soon enough.

And you gotta be around to hear it.

I met you 3 years ago.

5' 2" and terrifying.

You never got any taller, but your rockstar personality shot right to the moon and back. And you never let anybody bring you down or tell you what to do. I admired that about you.

I remember the dumbest things about our friendship. I remember working with you on a group project we both didn't care about. I remember becoming friends with you like it was an easy thing, like we both knew we would be friends eventually.

I remember the first song I ever sent to you, and not expecting you to like it but you did anyway. You told me the song would even get stuck in your head. I promised to send you every song I would ever write.

We were close. I would always make time to talk to you. It didn't matter whether or not you were interrupting anything, I would set anything aside to talk to you.

We shared our jokes, and our pain. Our laughter and longing, we were good friends and we never let each other down.

Until now.

And I will admit that this is my fault.
Please don't place all of the blame on her.
She may be guilty, but so am I.
2 out of the 3 problems were caused by my impulses.
I can handle 66.7% of the blame and consequences.
I can do that.

You can hate me if you want.
You tell me you don't want to talk to her anymore.

I tell you I respect your decision and that I will be here if you need me.

I am sorry.

I know I ******* up our friendship, and I wish I could take it all back.
I wish you could remember me as the innocent songwriter who held out arms of comfort instead of words of contradiction.

I am terrible.

And you don't need me.

But if your heart finds enough forgiveness to see past this.
I will give you a way out.
And if you choose not to take it.
Then maybe you believe that I am worth taking back.

That our friendship is worth fixing.

So tell me:

If I am worth that much...

Are you okay with the idea of starting over?

Because I want to make this better.
You don't have to be around me if you don't want to.

But if I can start over.

I will live through my life thankful that I got a second chance at all.

To the girl I wrote the song for:

I'm sorry.

I shouldn't have said what I did over the February break. Sometimes too much truth is just as deadly as one lie. And maybe that's what shot your silence across the ocean.

Even though you told me I shouldn't be sorry for the way I did things, I will continue to to apologize for everything I did. And if I have one request for your next decision, I can only hope that you don't hate me.

Because I can't forgive myself for what happened.

To the girl who watches TV with me:

I'm sorry.

My impulsive behaviour on that March night was my fault.
I knew what I was doing, I knew people would get hurt, and I did it anyway.

I will admit, the rush was not the worst thing in the world. But it came with too many consequences.

So please, with every episode of a TV show that we both enjoy, just remember that we will never be what we were.

...And I will never let you be sorry.

To my brother:

I'm sorry.

You were the first person to find out what happened and I asked you to keep me safe by keeping my secrets in your chest. I prayed you wouldn't let the words fall from your heart, I begged you not to tell our parents.
I shouldn't have put that kind of weight on your conscience.

To my parents:

I'm sorry.

Telling you what happened was the hardest thing for me to do. But I can only hope that I haven't lost all of your trust because of what happened.

To the bodyguard:

I'm sorry.

Actually.... you are the person I really don't want to apologize to. But I am still sorry.

Mostly for my actions and because what I did hurts the person you love most, and that I can accept that as my fault. I know somewhere in your soul, you hate me. And that's something you and I have in common.

But I can live with you never forgiving me. Because you are just here to protect the people you love. And I am sorry I threatened your comfortable life. I didn't plan on hurting anyone... but I did.

Just promise me this:

Be good to her.

Because if you don't do that...
Then what the hell are you doing?

To myself:

I cannot be sorry for you.

I can promise you that these next few days will be some of the most painful. And to a point, I am too much of a ******* to care. You will want to punch brick walls and bleed for your mistakes. You will want a perfect stranger to beat you close to death and walk away like it's no big deal.

You will want to apologize every single day until you blow out your vocal chords. *You will want to suffer.

But you will not cry.
You will believe that crying is not worth it.
You will choose to be silent, you will choose to become numb to all of your pain. And I will not be sorry for you.

I will never be sorry for you.

But I will tell you that you are not going to feel this forever.
So do me a favour and walk.
Walk with your regrets and live on.
Work for your trust back, and maybe then you'll have a chance to start over.

I hope you find what you're looking for.

2 pages and too many ashes.

The smell of smoke still lingering in the air.

And so another piece of my life falls.

And I don't know where to go from here.

I read back, looking at old texts.

Searching for the moment when things changed. And I found it.

And even if I never recreate the better part of myself.

Those conversations, those meaningful stories, that friendship will always exist.

I mean... it's the eternal bond we share.

I try not to write in past tense. Like there's a chance to be okay again.

And there is.

There always will be.

Because I will never look back and be bitter. I'll look back with a smile.

Because I was honest... and that is the best I can do.

I'll never shut you out.

But we have to meet halfway do we not?

I'm here.

I wish I was in love.

I wish that a lot.

I wish most days that someone would love me.

But it all seems like so much to ask of a person.

To love a broken person like myself.

I won't bother giving reasons to love this empty shell of a body.

Most days I just want someone to hold.

Or perhaps... someone to hold me.

I think it is easier to love after pain has been brought upon you.

Because people will tell you that love can bring pain.

So if you have already experienced such pain...

It cannot be much harder to not only love, but to love someone with pain.


I wish so much that I would be swept away with the blissful thought of another in my head.

But such things do not come to the broken hearted.

After these past 2 weeks...

A bowl of cereal that's 35% grain and 65% milk seems best when it's 100% cold.

And isn't that just the simplest thing for me to do right now?

I haven't eaten cereal regularly since I was a kid.

It seems nostalgic.

Bring me back to a time when things were simpler.

When things were easier.

Just between you and me, clowns…are extremely creepy. And whoever decided that clowns were funny and appropriate for children….. Just noooo.

But even though I hate clowns, I’ve seemed to become one. My red smile on a white coat of paint that is my face.

No…

I didn’t always look like this. I used to look like you. But now I have this, A red painted frown plastered on my face and guess what?!

It’s stuck there.

This is not the kind of make up you can just wash off, scrubbing the skin until it start to bleed and I can’t take the pain anymore.

And I don’t just mean the physical pain. I tried to paint another colour onto my skin, I tried to cover it up but I can’t. People still see it, they ask about it as if it bothers them more than it bothers me.

Yes! Of course! Eyes up here remember? Stop staring at it. Don’t ask me about it, it’s been there for too long…

My clown face can scare people. Do I look like a scary person to you? Is there a reason why children are afraid of me? There is still a person underneath this face paint, underneath this skin.

And people say clowns are supposed to be funny, no wonder people find my face so easy to laugh at.

Come on! Tell me it’s funny, TO MY FACE. I dare you, tell me exactly what it is, and why it’s so funny. I can laugh at it too you know, because I’m supposed to. I’m supposed to just laugh it off.

At the end of the day, I decided to visit the house of mirrors. I walk down the hallway mirrors on both sides and I stop in front of each one and stare at myself in the mirror.

I’m not happy with what I see in it. I’m not content with it, I am not okay with this image being forever, I don’t want this to be me forever.

So, one day, I will find a mirror that doesn’t show me like this, and it exist in people’s eyes, these mirrors exist in the people who see me the way I should see myself. So when I look into the eyes of my friends and family, I can see myself, and I don’t look like this.

One day, I’ll find a way to get this red frown off of my face one day I tell myself.

One day, I’ll stop being a clown…. And I’ll start being me again.

I've always said that I wouldn't mind being in a coma.
Because the world wouldn't have to worry about me so much.

Now truthfully, most of the world has no idea who I am, so the world doesn't have much of a reason to worry, but still...

The small percentage of people who do know me, would be so worried all the time.

I would always be in one place.
The hospital.

I would always stay in the same position, and have the same reaction to everything.

Good news, bad news, no news at all.

And yet...

A coma for me is just a cover up.

I wouldn't want this to serve as an excuse for someone to visit me out of guilt.
And I would be able to respond if they told me they were sorry.

It kills me to know, that beyond being a limp body, I'm also a lost soul.

But even as I am here now, awake.

I feel closer to dead than anyone can ever know.

Only because I finally lost it.
And by "it" I only mean... me?

Like I was put on this planet just to hurt people, and I sure did...

I sure... did.

This feeling..

Of having people around, but still feeling like the most truthful thing to say is "I have no one left".

I can say it, and it still feels true.

I never wanted to hurt anyone.

So maybe people would finally feel guilty for leaving me if they just saw me close to "drifting to sleep".

Breathing harder, and feeling my T-shirt suffocating me.
And then feeling the vice grip of my sins wrap around my neck.

And I can't take it any more.

Sins...

Sounds too biblical and cliché right?

I'm tired of fighting to live well.

I'm tired.

Let me sleep.

Or induce a coma.

And put this whole thing to rest.

It’s 11:30 at night, and I’m staring at a screen that no longer notifies me that anyone I know is awake. For I am once again avoiding sleep, but I am waiting for a reason to stay awake. I do not want to sleep for fear of never waking up, but if you send me a message, I will have a reason to get up in the morning.

Fact: Our communication is more body language than it is words but not that this applies to the text message you will send from your phone. For the only thing that doesn’t involve words in a texting conversation is silence.

You’d be surprised at how often I’ve had to be silent for the sake of others. You see, I have been told by many that I am too selfless, and that I need to look out for myself a little more. But I can’t. I do not have the ability to stop caring about people who need me, even if I am suffering more than they are. It hurts…to know that people I care about are in pain, so I pretend my pain isn’t there.

But slowly, I begin to realize that listening to others and caring for them is not a bad thing, but it does give me a reason to ignore my own problems. I don’t want to ignore my own issues, but I don’t have the courage to tell them to my own friends, why is that?

One time, my brother was so sick he could barely swallow without feeling pain, so I only asked him yes or no questions so he could nod or shake his head to answer. His pain, kept him silent, and my pain keeps me silent. The only difference between his situation and mine is that my communication with him was working and this silence within me prevents me from even saying hi to people.

I want to tell people everything, I want to have 5-hour conversations about everything that makes me silent and I want to be able to send you a text message without worrying about whether or not I just interrupted your life for 2 seconds. I want to tell you that I’m having a bad day, but I can’t because seeing you makes my day so much better that I have to smile. I want to tell you why I hate the weekends because I love school because my friends are at school, and that I had a fight with my parents, and that I hate looking at my own reflection, and that every time I say to someone that I’m sorry, I’m also trying to say that I love them. I am sorry…sorry… I want to tell you that I sometimes feel so much pain that when you say hello or goodbye, I will only have enough energy to give you a small smile and a wave, I am lonely…


I want to get better, I want to say everything and be honest and just WHY GOD WON’T YOU HELP ME?!? I want to play music, and have fun, and live my life, please somebody hear me…

Ding

1 New notification:

“Hey, are you still awake? You seemed a little out of it today. I’m always here for you if you need me.”

It’s 12:00am and I’ve missed the moment where today became tomorrow. So maybe today is the day I tell you everything. Maybe our communication isn’t broken. I write back saying: “Thanks for checking in on me, it means a lot. Now that you mention it, there is something that’s been bothering me, I have something I need to tell you…”

Welcome everybody to the most exciting event of your lives.
Welcome one and all, and thank you so much for attending my funeral!

And I know you’re probably confused as to why this is an exciting event, but believe me, this is an event you do not want to miss!!

Make sure that when attending my funeral, that you do not wear formal clothing, and do not wear black.

I want you, to wear the most colorful thing you can find in your closets. I want my funeral to have so much colour!

There will be so much rainbow, that my funeral could be the set for a Skittles commercial!

Die with the rainbow, Taste the rainbow!

I, of course will not be dressed formal.

I’ll be working a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, an open jacket and a snapback turned at 180 degrees, because IT LOOKS AWESOME!

You all should also look as amazing as I do. But do not, under any circumstances look better than I do.

Remember, this is still MY day, I am the most important thing in this room, Why?!!??

Because I’m super dead!

Side note: I’m afraid of dying…

But it’s not like that matters anymore, because I’M DEAD. Literally living my eternal fear. (Or dying in my eternal fear.)

Anyway!! Another rule! Do not… get drunk on my funeral day. You MUST be sober, in order to fully experience this event for what it is. And what is it?? A celebration!!!

Why would anybody celebrate MY death, you ask?

This question has a simple answer: I don’t want you to cry at my funeral…

I want you to laugh, I want you to laugh so much, that you end up crying anyway. Laugh because even though a journey has ended, it ended on a good note.

I want you to party! Dance until your tire of moving! And when you dance.

Tell yourself that you feel good.

Because even though I’m dead, I’m thankful that you came to my funeral.

Enjoy the celebration.

And if, you write my eulogy, write about the times I made you laugh, or the times I won medals, or hugged you so tight because I really didn’t want to let go until I had to.

Don’t write that you’re sorry, or that I deserved more time, or that I’m in a better place now.

Thank you, for everything. And my last gift to you is giving you a reason to be happy in a time of sorrow.

Be happy knowing that you got to be a part of my life. Because I’m happy knowing that I was part of yours.

Over the past year, I’ve convinced myself that I am some kind of villain, because I don’t exactly hold the redeeming qualities of a hero or protagonist.

I have no idea how to combat this thought, so I decided I’ll just confess my non-redeeming qualities until the sun sets on my lifetime.

I change the subject a lot, I can never stay focused, and I never stay in one spot, I’m always trying to run somewhere, while trying to get away from something else.

I’m not really a good person, but I'll go my entire life believing that something is incredibly wrong with me. No one is good all the time, and no one is really innocent either. A lot of what I say doesn’t really make any sense to anyone but me, and I’ve come to accept that when I realized that I am pretty crazy and a lot of other people would rather be crazy pretty.

I’m simple, I don’t want much, and I gain very little, so like an actual villain, my desires a pushed away until I need to make someone hurt like I do.

I have very little patience for anyone but myself. Sometimes I wish my grandfather would just die already just so I can write poetry about it, and part of that makes me selfish, and part of that makes me merciful because not all deaths will result in me making art but that’s how it is.

You have to admit, that whether or not you like Jesus, he was probably the best example of the designated driver. He made water into wine just so his buddies could drink it. You might not like him, but you have to admit he knew how to party.

Every time I drive my brother home from school, I wonder what would happen if I died, does my car just drive without me? And then I realize that dying is probably the most gripping experience I will ever have and it is always going to come for me.

There are people in this school who do not know me, and yet I want to tell them they have the world in their grasp long before I came to tell them. I can prophesize what it will be like to die, but not to live like dying can’t touch you.

I cover up my blunt attitude with comedy just because I can and it’s been working for 18 years. I’m a self-manipulator who somehow just gives away the best parts of myself just so people will listen to me.

I’m not good, but I’m trying, and maybe that’s all death will ask of me. I don’t know what a good life is like, but I know that good people are in it. I don’t actually know tomorrow is coming, but I want to be in it.

I don’t hope that I will someday wake up at 80 years old and realize my life is over. Villains don’t live that long anyway. Villains get to watch everything good happen to someone else they hate, but I have no energy to hate so I just watch.

This isn’t a confession of my sins or my faults, it’s a confession of character and identity I thought I figured out years ago.

Religion might be my last “Hail Mary” before leaving and as much as people want to joke about hell, I’d rather just be at a campfire for the rest of my death reciting stories of my life over an endless night sky.

The villain usually dies first, but the happily ever after is an ending we all forget about. When everything is gone, I can only hope my stories are told forever, and when I’m gone I will finally be able to see… everything.

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.

Here's to hoping that day 2 actually happens this time.

I'll throw up an "Amen" because I need it and because I want it.

So just...

Hear me.

I'm still in my car after the school day ends and I cry again.

It's non stop.

And I have to wait, for my brother to show up and then I can drive him home.

And not long after I start crying, he shows up.

He gets in the car and sees me in my guilt ridden, sad, apologetic state. All wrapped up in my pain.

And he tells me, "You should know that I love you."

Time stops.

My introverted brother, who rarely shows any affection towards any of our family, reached out to me in my time of need.

And God couldn't have given me a better little brother.

Despite all I've done and all the pain I've caused...

He could still say that.

And I drive us both home. Still crying, but definitely feeling a sense of hope again.

I still act as his role model most of the time.
And he listens to me.
And for a guy who doesn't talk much...
Listening is the thing he does best.

I have never been employed or earned any money for the work I do. And yet I still have a job to do.

For I am the door keeper, a guard, a lookout... a friend.

My job is simple yet complicated, for I have many jobs rolled into one.

I stand by the door and wait for people to approach me. Some talk to me, most people don't. Don't you know that I do my work for you? I don't get paid for my work, but I still think it's worth it to keep working.

I am the door keeper.

I stand by the weak, injured, and the broken with the strength I still have. When the people who I help finally regain their strength, they walk away from me, not even leaving a "thank you".

I am the guard.

When danger arrives at someone else's doorstep, I am there to see that they are not harmed, I will warn the of danger and guide them out of harms way.

I am the lookout.

Whenever you need me I will be there, I'll hold your hand and help in any way I can. I will always be here.

I am your friend.

I have always been here, but people don't see me anymore. I have become a ghost. I wonder what it takes to become alive again. But I can't just leave, whether or not people see me. I need to keep working. My job doesn't cost money, it costs lives.

A treasure more valuable than money.

I can't stop working.

I am the door keeper watching for their smiling faces. I am the lookout for their lives, and the guard of their hearts. But most importantly a friend.

A friend they might never see, but I'm still here.

I can't leave just yet. Because I still have a job to do.

I've had a series of dreams where things went differently then they did in real life.

Where nobody left.
And nobody was hurt.

One dream in particular keeps coming back, the one where nothing really makes sense, but it makes me feel better sometimes.

I remember running, and she was beside me.

But I immediately knew it was a dream because she was taller than me.

She's never been taller than me. And here I am...

Running beside a 5 foot 8 version of my once best friend.

What?!

This dream is so weird.. and yet it feels so normal.
She's never had to look down to see me.
Heck, she's never had a reason to look up to me either.
For height eye contact or otherwise.

And somehow this dream follows me, her, and her significant other into a building.

I'm in a hallway saying that I'm on my way to a specific room.
She says she'll follow me there.

For some reason, because this is a dream, I go to a completely different room, a shop actually.

Woodshop. Like the one I went to at school.

I don't even know what I'm doing there, I'm not sanding or doing any work, they are. I don't know what they're doing, I'm watching this alternate version of a person just...

Exist.

And suddenly she cuts her hand on a saw blade. Much like I have in shop class.

I don't panic, I grab paper towel, and start wrapping her hand.
She's gonna be fine.

She's gonna be fine..

There's no dialogue, nobody says anything, I'm just taking care of someone I care about.

This dream is just playing out.



I wake up...

I feel content and somewhat happy for a second.

But then I remember I was dreaming.

I was dreaming...

And that's okay.

But I return to a reality where none of that happened.
And I suddenly feel the utopic dream leave me.

I can't even remember most of the dream, and this is all I have.

This isn't the first time I've woken up from a better dream life to find that I'm here.

But I do need to realize that I'm here.

Despite everything.

Tuck Everlasting


A musical that didn't exactly live up to its namesake.

Ironic isn't it?

As far as I know...

Pain is just that..

Everlasting.

It's constant.

The crying.

Like a scene on repeat, and I can't turn the TV off.

I feel lifeless.

I want to be the pendulum swinging beneath a broken bridge over cold rushing waters.

I feel drunk.

Without being drunk..

I hate what happened.

I don't want this anymore.

Even if I do manage to fall asleep...

I have to wake up and do this all over again.

Never escaping this nightmare.

And continuing to cry.

Every day.

Living through my tragic life, and then talking about it to the point where I can't even defend myself.

It's killing me.
There's no point to standing up for yourself.
And no point in arguing ever if you're right.

Living my life, and then being sad about it.
Telling people who can't help me.

It's like being on a treadmill.

It's exhausting without going anywhere.

And get up.

I'm picking up everything on the floor and dividing it up into piles.

Things to throw away.

Things to recycle.

Things that don't belong to me.

Things to preserve.

Things to hang up on my wall.

Things to reconsider how much I want them.

Things to stare at.

Things....

Things I don't want anymore.

Things that pain me to get rid of but I have to.

And I look at all the dust piling up around my room and I wonder how long it's been since I did something like this.

And yet... I still have to much work to do.

She was there.

7:25pm

I'm out with some friends., we find a spot on a hill, I know some of the people, I don't know some of the people.

I'm there having a good time. Trying to make conversation, not seeming like a complete loner loser.

I make due with what social skills I have left.

10:45pm

The fireworks have started, sparks of colour fill the sky and loud exploding noises fill my ears.

It's so dark out.
I watched the sunset not too long ago...

The sounds, the exploding bursts of shimmer and shine.

The fireworks are so vibrant, so alive...
I don't feel scared to die right now...

Maybe I should, but I don't.

11:30pm

I found my car and the parking lot is filled with people trying to get out. I grab a map and sit on the trunk of my car as I wait for an opening.

The night is calm if you don't pay mind to the drivers.
And I don't, I just stare at the map, searching for a way home.

12:30am

I made it home about 10 minutes ago and I'm not tired yet.
I make myself a cup of hot chocolate and sit at my computer watching episodes of an old sitcom from a time I didn't live in.

2:00am

I'm here.
Lying in my bed, next to nothing and no one.
It was only hours ago that I didn't feel so scared.
And now I'm here.

She wasn't there was she?
She couldn't have been...
If she was, I couldn't possibly have...

She was there.*

She was.

Our paths just missed each other.
Never crossing.

Just hours ago, I was watching fireworks.

And now I'm here.

Watching the darkness.

~April 6th, 2017~

Dear Yesterday,

Right now the panic is setting in to your body like the third wave of infection we didn't write poetry about. And let me tell you, the anxiety and stress with everything will subside throughout the flight.

Not a normal feeling of excitement or anything , but you feel the joy eventually. But for now, take my advice and relax a bit. Don't worry too much about what will happen once you get there.

Leave life in it's upside-down, unpredictable state. Give up some control.

I mean, I've forgotten what it's like to be above clouds. It seems so close to high haven and yet...

Still a long drop down.

And sure, I'm not really scared of falling from here. Just my thanatophobic tendencies. But in all honesty, I think I'm gonna be more scared of the people on this trip then the actual trip.

Only because of things like first impressions and my personal friend group staying together.

I can only hope that nothing goes wrong for us. And honestly, probably nothing will.

Optimism right?

A list of answers and facts for questions no one asked, or wanted to know the answers to:

I was told in by my high school social teacher that people who have green as their favourite colour were the smartest kind of people, and I thanked my brain for choosing that colour to love.

Despite loving green, I know deep down that red is not only the most attractive colour to wear, but my track team always won the race when we wore it. Superstition or not, red is deadly hot attractive.

When asked if I am religious, I will say "yes". When asked if I have doubted that religion, I will say "Of course". Notice how one answer sounds more certain than the other.

When asked if I am single, I don't hesitate to say that I live in Singletown, Population: Me.

I was once at a show with my mother. Me, wearing my snapback and sweater as we walk in. We're sharing a table with an older man. He says, "I should tell you that a professor told me that wearing your hat backwards lowers your IQ by 20 and that wearing it sideways lowers it by 30". So I said, "Well, I'm glad I don't wear my hat sideways."

I may be stupid, but my favourite colour is green, so do not cross me.

When asked if I wished I was in a relationship, I will say...

I will say that I used to know the answer to that when falling in love was more of a luxury than a tragedy.

I have shaved my head twice. And cutting my hair has just become the main "solution" to making my showers shorter.

When asked if I have questioned my sexuality, I will say "Who hasn't?" and I will also say "You are lucky you're getting an answer out of me."

When asked if I'm going to take the blue pill or the red pill, you know I'm gonna ask for the green pill instead. Because what is smarter than a green matrix pill?! In your face Neo, Morpheus doesn't need you anymore.

I really love and hate telling my story. It's not because I hate myself, or I'm going to cry, or I just really hate telling people everything. I mean, sure those are all true, but it's mostly because I don't want to hurt people.

Every poem I write slowly becomes a poem about her.

When asked about her, I say...
She took the red pill.

Hoping... it made her more attractive.