On the first day of school they asked for two random facts about myself. I come up blank, because I am to consumed by you to remember even my favorite color. I let myself revolve around you over the span of months as if you were the sun but really you where just a collection of Broken stars roaming around, searching for something you didn’t know you wanted, a solar system dedicated to you. I was so devoted to finding beautiful scents to fill your lungs I forgot how to breath and When I realized my lungs were malnourished It was too late. I look for myself I but all I find are reflections of you, the things that used to bring me joy are masked by the smile that convinced me it was all worth it. I feel broken but it does not matter, because at least you will be shiny and new for the next girl. The next girl. The girl who will put Daisy’s in her because you love Daisy’s, The girl who will undress for you, the girl who will cry over you, the girl who will breath only when you ask, the girl who will be a chew toy for when your mundane life is no longer enough, the girl who is enough. I am not that girl. I am this girl. This girl standing in front of a microphone scared out of her wits, this girl who doesn’t know if she is ready to say yes, this girl whose hands are perpetually shaking, this girl who is afraid of her reflection, this girl who is not dresses by herself but by her insecurities, this girl who loved you, this girl was not enough for you but surely must be enough for me. I finally remembered what my favorite color is. Yellow, not because you were once my sun, but because yellow is the color of sunflowers, and I really love sunflowers.

The loss of a love,
now but a distant memory
still lingering in my mind;
It hurts, but I’m not sad.
A thousand deaths,
whether it be from this world,
My past or my present;
It hurts, but I’m not sad.
The pain upon my brain,
In my heart and in my soul;
It hurts, but I’m not sad.
Yet I still throw myself
at this life, at this world
and the broken thing always
comes back with a smile on it;
It hurts, but I’m not sad.

Have you ever seen the way fat bubbles under your skin? Fat is such a beautiful thing that is often talked about in such a negative way. Personally I love to watch the fat bubble after the red is done running red and I feel the immense calm that follows. Goodnight.

I can't seem to understand
These happenings
Scraped and leathered hands
Wipe away the stinging tears
Of this ardous transformation
Saying goodbye to everything
That no longer
Feeds me
Pulling from my old, tight skin
Growing into
The skin I was meant to be in.

Twenty five minutes into my birthday and I'm a bit sad.........

I knew I shouldn't have let myself fall that fast that day..........