No, I don't think you understand how rare it is for me to like you

To just find you attractive because that is fairly common for me

But actually like you like you

Because those are two very different things

Attraction and affection

No, I meant Affection

It should be capitalized

What I mean is

I don't like ALOT of things

Seriously

I’m freaking negative

I am the queen of all pessimism

I don't like:

Bad grammar

When people pronounce words wrong

People who say Pacifically instead of Specifically

Overly optimistic people Example:(Oh your family is in thousands of
dollars of debt your sister just killed herself and your boyfriend just
cheated on you with your mom and you're pregnant with the baby of
the guy who got you drunk and slept with you without your sober permission who happens to have just moved to Asia to escape having to care for you and his baby? Well, you have your health!) –stab-

The number 9 it sounds like it’s on the edge of something. I hate wishy-
washy numbers that don’t go all the way. Resolve to ten already!!!

Movies where there is a completely impossible happy ending thanks to spontaneous magic

Apple juice

Most flowers

Pink (the color)

The Sun

The month of April

Girls who don’t know how to wear pants. Or a shirt. Seriously. Those aren’t shorts. That’s just a belt that ***** at being a belt.

People who try to ****** me

People who freak out at me when I try to ****** them

Mondays

Tuesdays

Wednesdays

Thursdays

Fridays

Saturday­s

Sundays

F!CKING MONDAYS AND TUESDAYS

When people pronounce french words WRONG

PEOPLE who pronounce french words wrong

Reality TV

Holidays that don't even get you a day off from school

Ducks that are yellow. THEY DON’T EXIST the bath toy company is LYING TO YOU

Sticky hands

The color yellow

The color orange

Colors that just seem too… happy. It makes me want to light them on
fire. And impale them.

Obnoxious hair colors

Girls who wear jeans and skirts simultaneously

Overly colorful rainbows

When people talk into your ear and you can feel their warm breath.

Being drenched in water

Character or word limits

Signs

When I get all disappointed because I dreamed someone I hated got hit by lightning and it doesn’t come true

When I wish really REALLY ******* a star but it just doesn’t come true. Then I have to go and fill the grave I had all dug up for them.

Plastic hangers

Man, I HATE plastic hangers

Walking

Running

Standing

Any kind of action that doesn’t include limply lying around

When I look at someone with extreme loathing and they don’t spontaneously combust. It’s very sad.

Raisins

When you THINK it’s a chocolate chip cookie and it turns out to be
raisins. MAIN REASON I HAVE TRUST ISSUES!

But, I do like you.

That’s saying something.

I LIKE YOU.

Really.

Honest.

But you don’t realize how rare that is.

:P

…God, I’m so violent. I should have that looked at...

Well, there's your positivity for the day

I wash my hands of you,
At least I try to
My heart still write songs about your unmeasurable beauty
About how talented you are
About how amazing you looked that night
So I told myself maybe I'll get to hear your sweet voice just one more time
Maybe I'd get to see your beautiful smile just one more time
Maybe I'd get the chance to hold your soft hands just one more time
Maybe I won't see you ever again
Forcing me to become a victim of the deadly phrase,"what if"
What if I'd just told you about how felt when talking to you
How you literally made my day even when it was past the point of no return
How pathetic I looked as I waited for you to return my text
What if I just told you these these truths instead of hiding behind this invisible wall
What if I told you I think I'm falling in love with you
Would you say it back
Or would I just look like a fool
what if you were part of my life
Would you be happy
Or would I be the worst guy you ever met
What if...
I could be your guy

Smile.
A smile is not the cure to pain
It is not the gateway to happiness
It is simple a mask to compress the pulsating sorrow that shows all over your broken soul
A smile is nothing more than another ****** expression saved in your memory banks
It has no real meaning
At the same time it represents something that is so much more
It represents a passion that is often wrongfully ignored
It represents resolution within your own being
Hope that illuminates from your very skin
But a smile itself represents absolutely nothing
When someone tells you to smile they are not saying it will solve all of your problems
They're saying it'll maybe help you answer your unanswered questions
That it will maybe help bring peace to your off balanced mind
That it will maybe lead you to a reason to actually feel joy
Help you break through the invisible gate,
Instead of looking like a **** poor pitiful soul who lost everything
That is the definition of a smile
The word ****** expression that lost it's meaning
So do the world a favor and just smile

For years I have had poetry misconstrued
Thinking about what it was technically
Instead of thinking about what it was actually
Because technically poetry is nothing more than words on a sheet of paper
It has just been arranged in a certain way to tell a story

I remember my first days of writing poetry
Personally I thought that it was gay
And because I knew how to write it so well I questioned my sexuality
It bothered me so much in fact, there came a time I attempted to hide the forbidden skill
Ha,that didn't last very long

My first poem dates back to the year 2006,when I was in third grade.
It was ,"simply amazing", according to my teacher
I can recall because I ripped it up hoping to never see a poem again
I hated poetry with a passion due to the fact it coarsed through my veins
I didn't see another poem until the six grade

It was then I met this girl named Deja,a fanominal poet
She would always brag in our second period literature class how she was just the best
I slick had a crush on her but I'd never tell her that
She claimed I was nothing compared to her
So I laughed and wrote the poem, "Different I May Be,"

Never once other then that moment did I get her to hush
She actually began to blush a little though we pretended that never happened
Her eyes were both just wow
They spoke fierce yet sweet
I really was falling deeply for her

That day I finally opened my eyes beginning to think that poetry really wasn't gay
That it was actually a beautiful thing
Though I didn't start actually writing poetry until the end of that year,
After I read the poem,I know why the caged bird sings",by Maya Angelou
I kind of owe this rediscovery of my lost talent to Deja,again I will never admit that to her

She made me realize what poetry was actually
That it is a collaboration of both heart and soul
Using words to express emotions that were seen as taboo at a time
So Deja if by some miraculous chance you see this
I would like to say thank you for opening my eyes to the world of poetry

Why can't the rain be seen as beautiful
Like it asked to be the symbol of depression
Why does the world see it as being the dark Lord of the night
As if its dropping are toxic waste ready to burn us all away
Why must the rain be viewed as pure ugliness
As if what it has done for us mean absolutely nothing
Doesn't it mean something
It has watered the crops that feed us
Gave us hope when none existed
But instead of being praised like it should be...
It is viewed as the god of destruction just like its counterpart fire
Another understood element
Rain...they sing songs about it
Wishing it to go away
Disgracing its name
Again calling it,"destruction"
But the way I see it...
Us being humans have no right to be calling anyone destructive
We have caused more destruction than rain could ever imagine
So in my eyes...natures eyes
Rain is beautiful and it is we who are the uglies

Where do dreams go when they die?
Do they leave our perception and ascend to the sky?
To fuel our rewards for living as pure?
But that would simply make death the cure.

Perhaps they fall with us down below?
Sinking to the depths of torment as we go.
Looped on repeat, you're faux greatest hits.
Forced to watch your soul crumble to bits.

For some, dreams are the goal of the greater good.
Others dream of evil they'd do if they could.
The polarity of dreams mold our world today.
When things we do turn to things we say.

Nightmares can haunt us,  why must dreams resist?
Feeling unwanted even though we insist.
The fate of the future lies in our dreams.
Will they be joyous cried or hallowed screams?

Our parents said when we grew up,
That it would all make sense.
18 years later, half a drink in my cup
And I'm still sitting on the fence.
Because I understand the little things,
Like what really was under my bed.
But I still don't know who pulls the strings,
Or what's really inside my head.

Afraid of what the future will bring,
I'm drowning my fears in the bleak.
Because with time comes an eventual swing,
That helps bring down your body's peak.
My greatest fear is being alone,
While watching the undeserving succeed.
Submerged in doubt, up high on my throne,
I fail to adjust to life's unfathomable speed.

The first two verses came from when I became of age.
And a lot has surely changed since that day.
I have calmed a lot of my fiery rage,
And completely understand life in entirely new way.
But my hopes and fears remain the same,
While the rest of the world changes face.
But I now know I'm the one to blame,
For never trying to change my place.

I can't be the one to save you,
I can't even save myself.
A novel is formed from what you went through,
Just to collect dust upon my shelf.

Our problems are one in the same,
We both seek the chance for love.
You have sorrow and heartache to blame.
While I'm left seeking guidance above.

We both feel empty and alone,
But we won't give each other hope.
We simply fake it over the phone,
And think it helps the other cope.

Like yin with yang, we coexist,
Because alone we cease to be.
But how much longer can fate resist,
The bond between you and me?

Eventually the moon loses its shine over time.
It dims and then fades; nature's greatest crime.
The van Gogh you desired turns dim, then black.
It's lost in the memories you won't get back.

The stars you wished on burned out in the sky.
Falling like tears that you refused to cry.
Splattered like a Pollack, then erased from sight,
Left alone to ponder your life in the night.

It may be darkest before the dawn.
But all of your dreams seem to be gone.
You're channeling your inner Picasso blue,
But dreaming of what else there is to do.

Your easel is life, your brush be your decision.
Will your masterpiece come from perfect precision?