sometimes it is hard to be a person

trashing my bedroom because
i lost my photo album
full of pictures of my dad and i
and the speeches my uncles made
at his funeral

laying on the couch and watching tv
crying when a character attempts to end it all
because i'm taken back to october
and the hopes of what would have happened
if he decided not to jump

getting accepted into 9/10 of the colleges i applied to
and having no idea what to do next
desperate desire to talk to him
or voice how terrified i am to my family
but trapped inside myself

it is very hard to be a person

am i ready?
claustrophobic, anxiety ridden me
preparing for the constant motion of the big city
the utter anonymity?

am i ready?
to move so far from home
drain myself of money
surrounded by people who actually belong?

romanticizing you was probably my biggest mistake
after all
you can't fix me and i can't fix you
two twisted, sharp wrongs don't make a soft right
i look into your eyes and see myself
and i hate what i see

it's six am and we are cuddled on a mostly deflated air mattress
the air is cold and you smell like a mix of sleep sweat and alcohol
i don't mind it
you whisper to me in your rumbly voice
stories of steve
walking swordfish
chicken heart
you laugh when i tell you about the meatball i stole

when i imagine you now i don't see your face
i feel your untouchable safety and
wish you into tangibility
although dimensions separate us
i can't do anything but tell myself
you're right around the corner
in order to carry on

talk to me
just
please
talk to me
i am alone and
i feel insignificant
while everyone else is going going going
on without me
please just talk to me

holding myself upright
so i won't crumble
i lift my heavy eyes
and worn out heart
and carry on

she asked me how i felt
about parallel universes

i didn't know what they were

but she told me that
with all the hurt and confusion
we have now
there is another universe out there

where we are happy
and that's how she gets through the day

it creeps over me
and i always know when it's coming
you could say i invite it in
playing its favorite music
luring it with sleeping leisure
until there's no time left
and it grins up at me
and bites

its kinda funny
how i can create trees
of someone
and he can create flowers
of me
but our wires don't cross
and plants suffocate
nothing happens

i clomped down the school stairs
laughing over a vine with my friend
and we passed two boys crying
and teachers embracing them
and something chilled in my soul

i entered the classroom
dead silence
an empty seat
a rush of tears

blurs and abstractions
i can't tell the difference
between what is real
and what is a nightmare

someone said your name the other day
while i was passing her in the hallway and
a shiver ran down my spine and
down through the very tips of my toes
and the possibilities and potentialities rush
through my head as i imagine
movie marathons, with our toes touching under a blanket and
snowball fights even though we live nowhere near the snow

10 more days until
my chest is filled with clouds
and my feet are heavy with
the weight of 7 years

240 hours until
the shouting of my friends feels
unnecessary and wrong
how can you joke on a day like this?

14400 minutes until
i bury myself in my room
***** clothes piling into the hall
used tissues overflowing my trashcan
tear tracks staining my cheeks

864000 seconds until
i look to the sky
and hope
but never receive

i am a dreamer
idealistic, optimistic
the one who imagines her life will actually turn out how she wants

i am the ideal girl to marry, apparently
according to these heteronormative results
that are based upon me knowing how to cook
and liking to sleep in and wear t-shirts
that seems like ******* to me

i'm not the ideal girl to marry
who would ever want to marry this?
who could i ever want to marry?
to wake up next the same person for the rest of my existence?
to never get a moment to myself?

sometimes i look at her
and imagine my life working out the way it's supposed to
and waking up next to her every morning
and dancing together in sweatpants
with messy hair and fuzzy breath

maybe

as i get older, i realize bonds are not as easily forged and the value of friendship increases astronomically
i realize how long it's been since i've been touched
and remember how i used to hug each and every one of my friends when i was younger
and now it's a wave, a quick nod of the head before briskly walking out the door, no looking back, no checking to see if everything is okay
i realize loneliness isn't saved for 2 am revelations
loneliness is saved in the mundane moments-
watching tv on the couch
wanting to tell someone how i feel, but not wanting to annoy anyone
trying to sleep in the middle of the day because there's nothing to look forward to and oblivion is better than the soul crushing disappointment
of loneliness

i've gone ******* crazy
i always thought that i was the type to remain levelheaded
passive
not the type to cry over no new messages
and cancelled plans
and no outside contact for 48 hours
but every 7 minutes on the dot
i refresh your blog to see if you're online
or open my lock screen
to see if you decided to finally text me back
my insides twisting in desperation because
you're supposed to like me
how could i feel this strongly about you
and you not even consider me?

i'm not completely sure but
i don't think i'm okay
and maybe i haven't been okay for a while

an oxymoron inside my soul:
a total lack of emotion
paired with
overwhelming sadness and hopefulness and desire
to feel something beautiful

it feels like i've run out of words
or motivation in general, i guess
i'd be perfectly fine with lying in bed for a week
rehashing the same emotions over and over and over
nothing is new, nothing is exciting
i don't want to do anything
i don't want to be alone
but i don't want to talk
all i want is to bury my head in a pillow
and not resurface for a bit

sometimes i think that i'm actually different from everyone i know
like i think in a different way and feel or don't feel different emotions
obviously that's not possible since being unique is a social construct
and all that blah blah blah
let me be self indulgent for now, alright?

i think that i'll never find a relationship thats right
because i don't think anyone really understands me
and i also feel dumb because supposedly every teenager feels that way
but i look at some of my friends and see how in love they are
and that opens a whole new can of worms
because i'm lying to them as much as i used to lie to myself

my mom's friends ask me if i have a boyfriend or my eye on anyone
and i say i don't have a boyfriend, and i don't.
but it still feels like a lie because i'm not interested in a boyfriend
i want a girlfriend

i don't think a lot of people would care
i don't know why i haven't told anyone
but it feels like too precious a secret to face the world just yet

yes i do love you
but talking to you
creates this ugly niggling tension
in my stomach and my thoughts to get cloudy
and i just become so frustrated
all i want is to be left alone
but then you think something is wrong
something is obviously wrong
but you are never going to be the right person to talk through it with

let me start by saying i'm not a spiritual person
i don't believe in destiny
or even probably god
but today i had a spiritual moment
mid afternoon
listening to the song she told me she loved
and it's completely silent except for the gentle
sounds of guitar and lyrics
oh god the lyrics
through rivers and roads, rivers and roads
and as i thought about if you were in heaven or even had a soul anymore
sunlight seeped through my window
and i think i felt you
i clutched my arms around myself
and squinched my eyes shut
and felt like it was you that was hugging me
and you were telling me how proud of me you are
and how i've grown into such a remarkable woman
and i whispered into the charged air that i would try for you
i will live my life for you
i will work so ******* hard to make you proud of me
and i know if you were here now
i wouldn't need to rely on the window
because the sunlight would be seeping out of you

i thought you saw me as something special
you said i was interesting
who just says that?
we stayed up late last night
making plans and taking selfies
i thought you were beautiful without makeup
i still do
you told me you would make me a mix tape
who just does that?
i thought you at least saw me as a possibility
until my friend told me the two of you talked about the same things
the same movies
the same snapchats
the same late night conversations
and plans to hang out later
i was never special
you never wanted me
and i feel so ******* idiotic for crying over this
because we never even dated or acknowledged
the possibility of romance
and i imagined a world that wasn't really there
there's always the possibility that i'll grow some guts
and tell you how i feel
but i'm a coward
and scared of living to that extent
how could i let myself hope?

i had thought
the boy in my computer science class
with the foreign skin and army outfit
was the epitome of adorable
breaking into spanish when he got overexcited about learning
which was always
and i was excited when we were paired together today
until he seemed genuinely impressed by my competency
and contributed nothing
suddenly his misunderstandings of gender and sexism no longer
seemed like something i could cutely teach him about
but a tragic flaw
and a person i didn't want to be around

all i want is to live in the skins universe
where everything is in a hazy summer filter
with every glance charged with meaning and energy
and getting ****** on drugs is a legitimate pastime
and everyone's wardrobe is so individualistic
who would give a **** about society?
we're too busy having *** and getting trashed and laughing
we're too busy living the life we wished we could live

i'm sick of writing poems about you
but nothing else invokes the same extent of emotion
you make me so
ugh
insecure, unsure, unwell
but then
you smile at me
or tell me we should hang out soon
and i pour out words

prom itself is just an overglorified dance
the after party is where the real fun begins
sitting at the kitchen table of my best friend's house
sipping strawberry margaritas her mom made
then progressing to shots of tequila
and playing shots uno, steadily getting more and more dizzy
until i'm trying to twerk on a wall
and calling my friends to tell them i love them
pretending to be a koala on an armrest
updating my snapchat story so people at other gatherings can be jealous
forgetting how to pull my pants back up in the bathroom
talking to my ex boyfriend for an hour on the phone, telling him
exactly why i didn't dance with him at prom
and that i fingered myself for a boy
and i wanted to tell him and everyone, for that matter, about her
but i didn't because rejection and rumors are my worst enemies
he stays quiet and the only sound left is
my frantic whispering that i hope i stay this happy in the morning
because sober me lays in the deep end of the spectrum of sadness

it seems weird to me that
i spend all my time thinking about you
and what you might think of the insignificant things i do
while you may not even think of me at all

the boy outside the pizza place looked tired
and the way he smoked his cigarette wasn't seductive
it looked like he was clutching at straws to feel something
when he told me he liked my outfit
i wanted to stay, get to know him
but my mom hurried me along

i want the two of us shivering on a bare mattress in a ****** new york apartment
i want the two of us fighting over something stupid like what to listen to in the car
i want the two of us to go grocery shopping together
i want the two of us to make breakfast together without pants, singing into spatulas
holding hands at a concert
i want to see what you look like during summer- your hair loose and blowing in the wind, sunburns across your shoulders
i want to see what you look like in the winter- bundled in baggy sweaters and hunched shoulders
i want to see what you look like 5 years from now

i know i put too much meaning into things but--
you texted me first
asking how my day was
who does that without ulterior motives?
hidden intents?
unless you're a saint, you want something to do with me.
i know i give too much meaning into things
*but you texted me first

when i think to myself i want to talk to you
you could be anyone
you could be someone i haven't met yet, who i could have an instant connection with
you could be one of my friends that wouldn't know what to say
you could be my dad from wherever nothingness he is
but i think i know who i want you to be right now

being introverted actually has nothing to do with drinking tea or reading a lot
all it is? being cooler with small groups of people than large.
where the heck did people start thinking introverts were these glorified
manic pixie dream girls that lounge around all day writing poetry and drinking tea and feeling lonely?
i don't know. maybe i'm dumb or pretentious, but to me, being introverted has nothing to do with tea.

i guess everything has some quirk that defines them
i like to start things;
flirting with boys and girls
but never planning on following up
learning a new language every week,
then forgetting the one i learned previously
dieting for a week
then eating ben and jerry's for a month
i'm running out of new things to start
i want you to stick

1- i'm scared i'll end up like you when i grow up
#2- i'm scared i'll forget our time together
#3- i'm scared you'll go further in life than me
#4- i'm scared we won't keep in touch once we graduate
#5- i really want you to be in my life
#6- sometimes i feel like we don't even know each other, but we're best friends
#7- i like your attention but don't like you
#8- i don't know what i'll do when you die
#9- i compare myself to you obsessively
#10- i think i really like you

the word grief is reminiscent of gross, open mouthed sobbing
of mucus swirling down your face, into your mouth
of the angry red of bloodshot eyes
and the drowning blue of sadness that stays

1- the rabbi did see my breast that night and your sadness scared me
#2- you kissed my cheek and dumped me a week later
#3- you never fell out of love with me and i never fell in love with you
#4- you were almost dating my friend and told me not to tell anyone
#5- you lied to get me to like you and smelled like curry.
#6- you had a girlfriend and let your high friends violate my privacy. you slept with my friend a week later. you were the first boy i've ever had *** with and the first boy i've ever truly regretted.
#3 again- you bit my ******* and my brother walked in. you haven't been non-perverted towards me since.

consumed by sadness i think the child is rotting away
filled with thoughts of future, death, betrayal
where is the promised fortune and friends?
what kind of existence can this be,
when all a person lives for
is the last few minutes?

i want to be the person you run home to tell good news
i want to radiate constant sunshine and be warm
i want to be the counterpart to your sarcastic demeanor;
the one you can open up to and let me see you raw
i want to be a person who wakes up every morning happy to be alive
i want to be a writer
i want to be an artist
i want to save the world
i want to make a change

we have infinite potential lives
i can almost see how my life would play out with her
we would decide to hang out and watch mindless tv
shifting closer and closer to each other, side-eyeing when the other isn't watching; but we're both secretly watching each other instead of the show
i don't know how i'd bring it up that i'm into her, or even remotely have an idea on how i'd make a move
but in this infinite possibility world, i could figure it out
we'd keep it casual at first, just the occasional sleepover turned into a makeout session, then maybe further
we wouldn't tell our parents and the door would be closed
we'd probably tell our close friends, but not the whole school
we'd be lying in bed together one night at 3 am
when she'd ask me if i wanted to be something more, if i liked her that way
but how could i not?
she was special, passionate, always friendly always compassionate and this strange type of beauty that you just don't find down the street
i'd tell her of course, and maybe we'd tell more people and walk in public hand in hand
i can see it
i don't know if we would last
but i know i would cherish our time forever

i don't like the way my name sounds on my mother's lips
i grow quiet when my friends complain about their cheesy dads
sometimes i wonder what people would think or do if
i died or had a terminal illness
i feel uncomfortable when boys look at me
yet i crave the attention of everyone
i cry every night
and eat too much
and fall into self loathing when i look at the scale
i called a girl a ***** because my friend's boyfriend cheated with her
yet i had *** with a boy who had a girlfriend for over 2 years and showed my naked pictures to all of his friends
confession: i'm a hypocrite

settling down in the suburbs
a balding husband, 2 kids, a dog
an office job where i get paid less than the man doing the exact same job
never leaving; stuck.
i can't live that life. i think i would suffocate.
i want a life where everything is fresh, exciting
where i have things to look forward to and every day is a new adventure
maybe i'll be married, maybe i won't
a job where i can travel, see the world, learn new cultures
a job where i can be creative and feel empowered
i can paint the world, splash the globe with fiery reds and let every single person know
i am here
i will leave a mark
**i will not be forgotten

i think there is an importance to being earnest
i confess i've never read that book, but i still think the actual concept is great
to be honest, to love being around the people you're around and not being afraid or ashamed to freely admit it? that's love. that's earnestness.
when my heart swells up with happiness when my best friend and i make plans for the future, or tell stupid jokes to each other, and i think to myself how full and complete i feel? earnest.
i like making other people happy. i like telling people they look pretty or that they have incredible personalities. i don't lie to them, but i want to make them feel pretty
i like that i'm known as the earnest one, the sometimes clingy one
i like that i'm earnest

i could see it pretty easily
the two of us watching indie movies, cuddled under a blanket
going to concerts and not getting lost in the crowd
because we stand out to each other
eating an entire box of pizza- just the two of us

i don't know how others would see us
whether we would be the couple people notice in the hallway
if we would only tell a couple people
what we meant to each other

it's weird
i want to be around you
but i don't know in what context just yet

i read an article about what happens when one loses a parent suddenly
with no warning
when the person is still a little kid

the girl is predicted to glorify her father
and forget the negatives
she is predicted to fall into depressions and eating disorders
and have low self esteem because there was no man around her as she grew up to tell her she was pretty

i don't know what my dad dying did to me
nature vs nurture is a debate that can never truly be tested
would i still be like this if he was here? is this emptiness just preprogrammed into my mind?
would i still look at girls the wrong way? still be unable to completely trust or give my heart to a boy?
these questions haunt me
they can't be answered

flipping through old photographs that i'm too young to remember being taken, i suddenly realize
it isn't just sad that he isn't alive anymore
it's devastating
i read my uncle's speech from the funeral
he had planned on taking us hiking in montana
he had planned on sticking around, and helping us be the best he could
without him, i am lesser
i am the daughter of a single mother who doesn't hold the same values as he did
i am the traumatized girl in your philosophy class
i am the girl who is still sobbing into her pillow six years after
i don't talk to people about it
when i'm already upset about something, my mind will wander to him, and it gives me an excuse to cry
but on nights like tonight, i don't need an excuse to cry
flipping through the photo album
he isn't coming back
he isn't coming back
he isn't coming back

disappointed with what adulthood seems to be
constant worry constant stress no relaxing until social security kicks in
and even then that system will be ****** up by the time its my turn
except for those prized few, those diamonds in the spotlight that
can care for themselves and see life as a beautiful treasure
it's not that i don't want to live
i'm pretty sure i do, actually.

i miss the undeniable belief i used to maintain that heaven was real
that heaven would be there whether i finally decided for sure that i didn't need to stick around any further or if i left when my time truly came
that i'd be able to kick it with my dad and elvis presley
meet some rad dead person and see if she lives up to the hype
like cleopatra or someone. don't ask me.
that i could watch on some sort of heaven home theater how the people i left behind were doing
if they were thinking about me, if they were sad i was gone, but still able to move on with their lives, because that's what i would want for them, i think
it bothers me that i don't really believe in any of that anymore
it's a strange, nostalgic genre of fiction to me, heaven is
a concept that's too abstract for me to entirely wrap my head around
i want to believe, but it all seems too fake
too much like what the white men in the church would create as an ideal way for little girls to oppress themselves and for people to refrain from doing actions that would be frowned upon
i do these actions without the fear i'll be denied from heaven
heaven can't be real to me, no matter how much despair comes to me when i think of how much i need it to be real

i want to live my life in an instagram filter
see everything in black and white
what people really mean and what they spew out
in order to seem more accessible and better than the rest of us
see everything in sepia tones
memories of my childhood surfacing whenever
i need a break from the stress and the broken-down-ness of life
see everything so the colors stand out
so i can remember what it's like to see color
and *feel