Poetry is an escape from the reality,
Poetry is a way to let out all emotions.
*I've escaped from reality for too long.

I walk through the crowded mall, hearing the bustle of the after holiday rush. Everyone is looking for that one deal, or meeting up with their friends one last time before the busyness stirs up again. I, like always, am in my own little world. I see one thing, and my mind goes off on a tangent. Frozen Yogurt!-Oh that reminds me, I'm hungry. When did I eat last? Was it before or after...Oh yeah we met up with Grandma! She was wearing that pretty blue sweater...blue...I had to do something with bl- Then it cycles again. Honestly, I'm pretty used to it, I just kinda deal. I continue to walk, until I reach Hot Topic-my favorite store, of course. So, I go in, shop around. I'm minding my own business...then I hear it. The first note plays and I freeze-I haven't heard this since... anndd we get to the bad part of my mind. The crazy tangents can change my mood in an instant. My mind spins, and it leads to the same place it always does. I just stop and stare. I thought I was done with this-I thought-- Aye-that's where I was mistaken and went wrong. I thought-thinking-thinking is bad, at least in my context. One more thought came into my head...It's 2017.I repeat that over and over again-It's 2017...It's 2017-Why you ask? I'm putting up a shield. Things that happened in 2012, 2014, 2016, etc. They are all behind me. There is no use in holding  a grudge, no use in holding onto the anxieties that worried me then, because I can't physically handle holding onto these. Now, haha, yes-Easier said than done. Because yet again today, I passed a sign, I passed a person, I passed a decoration-and I thought-thought way too much. The thinking I'm doing is not random-I have my reasons, even if those reasons are crazy and insane. Now, some of you may be thinking, Isn't that unhealthy? To block something out of your mind? It will only resurface at a later date and be worse. It's better to face your problem head on, rather than ignoring it. Yes, I've thought about that, and well, it hasn't worked so far...Sooo, I'm thinking everyone has their ways to heal, and I have mine. Maybe one day, I'll be able to listen to that song again. Maybe one day, I'll be able to listen to the  entire album. Baby steps, I continue to move forward. Right now, I put up my Shield of 2017, and continue on my way.

525,600 minutes.
Minutes in a year.

How many of those minutes, will you be happy
How many of those minutes, will you feel on top of the world
How many of those minutes, will you want to relive?

Think.
Really Think.
How can you make your minutes happy?
How can you make the best out of your 525,600 minutes?

It can simply just be, to find happiness in the smallest things
therefore no matter where you are,
no matter what happens
There is always ONE thing, that you can turn to
That you can feel happy for-
Whether a person, place or thing.
pet, note, or song.
Doesn't matter.
As long as you know:
You have the ability to be Happy <3

Now go make those 525,600 minutes,
the happiest you've ever had.

I can't help, but think of you
In the times of distress,
and the times of darkness.
In the times of happiness,
and the times of hope.

I am my own person,
and I will always be-
but the thought of you holding me,
protecting me, loving me...
I like that.
I want that.
But the issue is, I can't find that.

I like being independent
but I like being connected.
Fully intertwined-never wanting to let go.

Keeping each other warm,
with hugs and kisses,
With the love-that was worth the wait.

But now I ask,
Where are you?
Who are you?
I've been looking for you, for a long time now.
I hope I find you soon,
So not another day goes by without you in my arms.

Someone who loves me for me,
who wants me,
who loves me entirely.

Someone who stays with me,
keeps me in their arms,
and never lets go.

That was my wish, what was yours?

Shoved to the ground,
Elbow to the arm,
Ball to the face.
Visable bruises form, sore to the touch.

Screaming through the wall,
Ignorance of the people,
Suffication of the culprit.
Mental bruises form, sore to the mind.