the last time I felt like someone cared about me was when
we were on my bed,
laughing and rolling around and
being so close to one another.
you were trying (notice I said trying)
to tickle me and you failed miserably.
you somehow ended up on top of me and
then your warm, tender hand (the right one, specifically)
ended up holding me by my waist and
you slowly made your way up to my face as you
caressed my cheek.
you leaned down slowly to kiss me and that was the last time I
know someone cared about me.

I feel like I'm all alone in the world because I'm slowly, but surely, being
forced to shut myself out from it.
trust me, it's not something that I want to do.
but it's something that I have to do, because if I don't then
things will just continue to get worse and
I just simply cannot afford anymore heartbreak.

everyone is dead. well, not everyone.
but most of us are.
we're just walking corpses waiting for Death to take us away
from this Hell we call Earth.

*aren't we?

Knowing that some people actually aspire to be like me,
Knowing I've somehow inspired some people, well,
That's the best feeling in the world

Can you at least pretend like you're happy for me?
Can you for once be happy that something good happened to me?
Is it so hard to take the spotlight off of yourself once and a while?

(This isn't a poem so don't even bother)
Because here's the deal
I hate it when I want to write about things that scare me, my fears, my past
And I have to be worried that people on here will read it and wonder if I'm okay? Wonder if I need help, feel pity towards me? I don't know if they would
Because I promise you all I am somehow 10x stronger because of the **** that's gone down
And maybe it's not that much ****, but it's a lot to me
A lot to recreate how I think, move, feel, sense
I just want to be able to talk about this and not get those stares like "oh my god this girl must be messed up because of that. She must be depressed or something"
I know what depressed is
I know what cutting is
I know anxiety is
But that's not me
That's a girl who got lost
Very lost.
She isn't and never will be me. Ever.

I hate how I think I'm better off
And I end up ******* myself
I hate how almost every memory of sophomore year is painful.
Some are beautiful pains
And some are dark dark pains.
I hate how I have to filter myself on this site
I hate how I'll write something and end up deleting the whole thing because what's the point of posting something on private of I'm the only one who will read it.
I hate how I can love people so much,
So so much
But I end up hardening up about it
Speechless and slightly ******
I hate how no one will actually read this, or if they do they won't read it slowly
I hate how I'm using hate because I don't think I truly hate anything except sin and evil.
I want sunshine and stupid cliche picnics and board games and skating and everything I say I'll do but never end up doing
And I can't say I love you to anyone enough to express god I love you
And I'm sorry you haven't heard it
And I promise I'll work on it

It's funny that if I were forced to choose
I know exactly who I'd run to

Running with my pals
No thought of going home.
Anything is better than
Being there all alone.
Nobody cares back there
But with friends I’m someone.
We laugh and talk together
Nobody ranks on anyone.

We get a little bit drunk
Or ****** when we can
But mostly we just visit
And look out for the man.
The cops like to hassle us
Because we look like kids.
Not because of what we are
Or from something bad we did.

We sit around empty houses
Where people moved away
And party in growing numbers
Some have guitars to play.
We sing songs we all know
And some original tunes.
But if the weather is good enough
I like to walk under the moon.

The street can be a scary place
Or it can be an amusement park
If you are careful about things
And not afraid of the dark.
And, of course, when I go home
They never notice I was gone.
It won’t be too much longer
And I’ll be permanently moving on.