My notes app
Described only as a collection of my adolescence
The loss and gain of my teenage life
You dear.
You made it into my notes app
What an honor
Hold the presses
If you hurt me real bad or I hurt you
Sad, Mad, Absolutely disgusted
All of my everything
Written
Told
Plainly stated
My life.

When I was younger, I thought I was as mature as a teenager
Now in my adolescence, I realize i'm still not as mature as teenager
Mature is a state of mind
And if the state of my mind is consistently and always scrambled, how can I be as mature as a teenager.
When I was younger I wanted to be a teenager
The freedom in driving and plethora of friends that I knew I would have.
My naivety
No one tells you that when you're a teenager, you can be surrounded by people, but still feel like no one gets you.
You also don't want to be the angsty teenager
So **** it up and
b friendly
Be popular
be cool
I don't think my mind or my mouth got the memo
Friendly I am
But I don't think i've ever hit that cool mark
But really, who needs cool when you can overthink your entire existence
Ah, being a teenager the best years of your life
Really just really soak that in

I write and I write
Everything that I write.
I want to share with the world
But The words written within the walls of this little app are reason to be concerned for my mental state
Reason to put me under a psychiatric hold
Institutionalize me
Medicate me
Sedate me
Tie me to a hospital bed with handcuffs as the voices that linger in my mind consume my every thought
Hold me in a padded room
Hold me in a straight jacket
Hold me
Just hold me till my tears run dry
I write and I write, but never will these words be safe enough to share with the ones that I love so much.

I want you to understand me
truly me
What makes me
me
What makes my muscle sore
What shakes me to my core
There is so much more to me than you will ever understand
You weren't delt this hand
no matter what I tell you
You cannot understand my struggle unless you have lived it
You cannot be the person I talk too unless you have felt Like life is not worth living
I know I have friends thats a fact I do not doubt
I don't want a friend.
I want a person that I can live life with forever.
And they will never leave me through love and sorrow.
They will want me around, not as a love but to love
The person who time stops when we're around each other.
But you can't be my oxygen and neither can I
I have to breathe the air that lies in the sky

I'm told friendships don't last forever. Some are just for seasons.
If our season is winter, I'm clinging to it like a living room Christmas tree you keep forgetting to toss.
The kind that just sit there,
Rotting.
Withering.

Winter's so great you forget about all the downsides
You've got christmas, snow, hot cocoa
You forget about wet socks, frozen car doors, the cold, the sun setting early.
You forget winter has flaws
Eventually the snow melts
I have to keep winter.

a snowball in the freezer.
I check on it every morning
And I leave it there,
keeping it frozen while little snowflakes fall off slowly as the seasons change.

Then,
Winter comes again
The snow is back
My socks are wet but my snowball is thriving.
New snow blankets it and i hold it till my hands turn purple
And when the winter goes away again
My little peice of winter goes back in the freezer.

I don't remember a time where I didn't write.

I've always written down everything that's made me upset since I learned how to spell sad

S.A.D.

A feeling I know all too well

I can't quite say i'm sad all the time, but sad lingers

It sits in the back of my head, begging for me to use the steak knife at the dinner table to turn my arms into lined paper.

I've always been a writer

Papers and pen

A shield and a sword

My words sting like daggers, but they are shielded and locked between the confounds of composition books

The thoughts usually hidden for the sakes of others flow freely between these gaps and lines.

I've always been a writer

I'm told I never stop talking

But the words I speak are carefully chosen

What's written, What lies within that spiral notebook those are my real words

I've always been a writer.

I write this a requiem for me
An act of remembrance for the girl I used to be
A view out of the rose colored glasses of which I used to see
Oh little baby me
You have a gift, no one can see
You breathe in air, no one else breathes
You have a halo that rises above me
The beam of happiness that bounces off your smile goes on for a mile.
Not to mention your style
Your existence makes life worthwhile
You are the lily of the nile
You are only perfection in my eyes
You baby girl are all that is good in this world
You are a shining pearl
Your goodness may have faded on me.
But for all I can see you are as perfect as can be.
You, you are no longer me
You are better than I will ever be
So here I write a requiem
I write this for me
Not the me that I am, but the me i used to be
The one that sees more than I see.
I write this for me.