I don't like when people ask me:
"How are you doing"
So casually!!
I can never give them a real answer
The simple one they want.
So I lie to myself
Trying to feel something better..
"pretty good"
"I'm, (afraid) alright"
"Doing well"
When really
I honestly don't know how I feel..
And its frustrating
That I lie
Not being able to give you
the answer you want
Not being able to say
What my heart wants..

I know it's been a while, forgive me for not writing you back.
     Do you recall the project I did a while back ago? The sculpture I had told you about? I have to confess to you that there never was one. You see, it was always just a metaphor of sorts.
     My metaphorical sculpture was of a face, that much is true. The face specifically, happened to be yours. I worked on it for months, smoothening your features, adding smile lines, working on the dimension of your eyes. Months I spent trying to mold you into an idealistic form for you to stay in. About three months ago I finished it and oh, it was perfect. I so accurately depicted the most wonderful image of you.
     Recently, however, I have begun to revisit the sculpture and look it over after our last face–to–face encounter. I began to notice so many things wrong in it, but it wasn't a flaw in my work. The work was still perfect, but the sculpture no longer matched your description. I know none of this may make sense to you, but just keep listening.
     As I looked at it closer, a thought occurred to me: You cannot make the wrong person into the right person. You cannot convey a person as someone they're not. I suppose this has been my mistake all along and I apologize for just now figuring it out. I've spent months attempting to conform you into what I thought you should be. I wanted you to be what you never were without telling you. I never was in love with the You you were in the natural, I had only ever been in love with the You I had made you to be. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the time I spent trying to convince myself we were right when we were never intended to be.
     In the time we haven't talked due to my abrupt silence, I had done a lot of thinking and my thoughts had led me to the decision to destroy the sculpture, because I needed to stop romanticizing the sculpture and getting lost in the blurred lines of you and my creation. You wouldn't believe what happened though. The moment I raised the sculpture in the air to smash it, I saw someone through the window who was the mirror image of the sculpture. I ran down to catch up to him and we have continued to talk since.
     I have now concluded that you can't make someone into who you want them to be, but if you're lucky, that eventually the people who fit your criteria come when you don't expect.
     I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I think I've finally figured out why we were always so toxic for one another. Now I don't feel like I have to manipulate or conform myself or someone to certain ideals and I don't have to deal with the emotional baggage you inflicted. I'm free. And so are you.

So I guess this is goodbye. I wish you the best, because I think I've finally found a muse for the time being.

You gave up,
When I still tried.
You gave up,
When I wanted "us" to survive.
For the past month I've been stuck,
In depression.
Over a girl who'd rather runaway,
Than try to find a solution.
Oh well,
I tried.
You're the one who gave up hope.

The shine in his eyes has all but died
Drained of all that is good
Where it once was, filling the void
Depression and madness now loom.

Dying, internally
Only in the late teens
Who knew a midlife crisis could occur at 18 ?

My biggest regret
was waiting for you,
when you don't
even notice
my presence.

n.e

"You're very quiet," he says.
"You don't speak much, do you?" He says.

Darling, I've got a lot too say;
I'm just afraid of making a mistake.