Must have been something I did, right?
Or have I just convinced myself of that because I am still completely sure you're flawless?
It's funny, but it's really not, how quickly you changed.
Is it the boy? Come on. Boys are silly. You told me that.
Was it because so many adore you, that it simply wasn't fair?
Or did you get ******* over too many times by those who swore allegiance to you?
Maybe you're just too busy. Yeah, that's the one I tell myself the most. I hope it's that one.
Or did you realize you don't have to care anymore?
You never really did have to. But I thought the world of you when you did.
Why would such an amazing person spend minutes and hours
trying
telling me how to survive
improving me
just to leave?
Maybe this is a test that I'm just barely passing by not saying anything.
Trust me, I am d y i n g to say something. Everything.
But it really does seem like you're gone. I don't care what they say.
They never really knew you.
Maybe I didn't either.
Maybe I am mistaken for thinking you cared.
Maybe you were just being nice. You were so nice.
I won't be angry, though. I can't be. Because you still helped.
Your words saved my life. You told me to be still and suddenly the world was clear.
What did I do? Did I ask for help too many times
without following through?
I tried, I swear to god, I tried so many times to just.. listen.
To stay in one place with one solid thought,
and I tried to make myself better.
Maybe you gave up. That's okay. You wouldn't be the first.
But no matter how many times I say that I am over it, and that I don't need you,
I'm lying. Lying to myself and anyone else who dares mention you to me.
I'm sorry if this is just me clinging to you because you saved me once.
I'm sorry if it's pathetic.
But I'm also really sorry if all the things I think are true.
Because if you really have changed,
if it's not just me,
if you lost that incredible person that you used to be... well,
that's something everyone should be sorry for.

Heartbreak and loneliness,
poetry and sad music,
depression and hopelessness.
That's what I'm good at. Experienced in.
I've always planned for day it didn't work out.
I thought of the songs I'd listen to,
the lyrics that would take over my statuses,
the sad, sad words that would fill my journals.
I would cry at the quotes from movies
about love and loss.
I wouldn't speak to anyone else,
I wouldn't start anything new for quite some time,
because,
well,
I wasn't going to get over you.
I wouldn't be ready to move on for such a long time.
There would be an era in my life devoted to you
and the hole in my heart
and the playlists about you
and the darkness in the middle of the night
and tears pouring down my face
and screaming in frustration why I couldn't keep you.
All I've envisioned for the past year
and three months
and two weeks,
was the horrible, awful time I was going to have
when you left me.
But I never planned for the day that you would stay.

you want to know me
see me
in ways no one has.
but that isn't how you know me.
i wish it were,
i wish we could sit in your car
on a cold winter night
and i'd tell you everything.
trust me, there's so much i want to tell you.
and i would,
i'd turn myself inside out in front of you.
but
that isn't how you know me.
you'll know me in little pieces
and just a single one at a time
like ripping the tiniest bits of paper up
and throwing them in a
glass jar with the words "rainy day"
written on it in marker.
i'll sing to you, i promise
and i'll show you all my poems
and paintings
and you'll know everything.
just so long as you stay
stay with me
love me
wait for me
to show you
me.

I don't know where this feeling in my stomach comes from. I wish it would stop. Empty and sick. I wish it would stop. It feels as though something is wrong, something is missing. I have no idea what. It's like a horrible opposite to deja vu. Alone is all the feeling I get from it, alone and maybe confused. Unsatisfied, but I wouldn't know how to begin to get what I need. Is this all life is?

Scars on my wrists, scars on my legs,
“Stop hurting yourself,” he begs.
Can’t stop crying. “I’m just so tired,” I sigh.
I’m alone, and I think I want to die.