On the hill, it was just the two of us, I thought I was finally going to be okay.
When we sat there and watched the sunset; when you held my hand as we walked down the trail; when you would blush every time your friends asked about us; when we talked about everything and absolutely nothing; I thought I was finally going to have something real.
I feel everything that isn't there. I think everything that isn't true. I try everything that isn't me. And my head and heart both pound as one: it's the rhythm to my daily anthem, with my feet dancing - no, creating tsunamis of bones trying to keep still, with my fingers tingling white dust that create a layer of pure emptiness all 'round me, separating me from all of reality. I wish you knew how scared I am when you try to save the me who isn't here.
My mind is this raging hurricane and you can't calm a storm down lest it wants to be stopped but mine never seem to want to stop. Every gush of wind pushes me over to the edge and forces me to look down into a never ending medium where nothing exists.
I'm sorry I'm not lazy, in fact if you tore apart this facade and looked inside this skin, you will find a girl searching tirelessly for her self worth and for happiness for she wants to prevail, she wants to be loved and she wants to never stop believing.
But my hands and feet don't stop adding earthquakes to my storm torn body. My brain races faster than my mouth can speak so I'm sorry if you can't understand what I -
No, it's not that I don't want to see you, it's just that my heart is running a marathon and I'm already worn out thinking about the way I'm going to say "hi", the way I'm just waiting for the ground to swallow me whole just to be saved.