--a.y., "If love is a fair game, why am I always losing?"

Saying I fight a lot with my parents is a massive understatement
Because I am stuck in the past, unable to forgive them for what they turned me into.
And saying I mess up whenever it comes to boys is even more so
Because I keep looking too far into the future, seeing an inevitable end and breaking off before it even begins.
But you,
You always jolt me back to reality
And whenever you excitedly show me pictures of bunnies in teacups
Or rant about your dreams with **** rock stars
Or yell Ohmygosh then proceed to enlighten me about the latest gossip
I can’t help by smile
And thank God for today.

I watch my best friend sit through yelling that could wake whole cities, putting up with angry shouts about how she is a waste of money while she struggles just to keep herself from wasting away.
I watch my cousin angrily do everything herself as her father stands over, lecturing her about the importance of hard work as he watches from the side.

They are the most beautiful people I know, treated like nothing. And I can only watch as their fists, their jaws, their hearts harden to stone.
If not a single tear escapes from their steely eyes, why do I still feel like crying?

I am too much of a coward to say this to your face
But since this is a poem
I don’t feel as helpless
Because my thoughts always made more sense coming from my hands than my lips

Since this is a poem
I’m less afraid to confess
How I loved that you chose me
And how I will do anything I can to justify the trust you’ve given me

Since this is a poem
I will admit that this was the first time I have cried for someone else
And that the space before you answered your phone was wrought with a terror I’ve never known

Still, since this is a poem
It is easier to lie when desperation rips off the mask you have so carefully constructed
And you stumble into my arms
Asking—no, crying whenwillthisendwhenwillthisendwhenwillthisend
between gasps for air
Soon, my love, soon
I promise

Since this is a poem
Maybe you’ll finally listen
When I say that you are not a burden
Or a ****** friend
(I know because I have been both, way too many times)

Since this is a poem
I can whisper and SHOUT and emphasize my words
Until you understand
That you are the one person I have ever truly cared about
(And only you know what a big deal that is for me)

You can keep apologizing for being weak
But all that hurts me are the tearstains on your cheeks

And if you are an anchor
Then you must be chained to sky
Darling, haven’t you realized by now
You are the only reason I am still alive.

i. There are moments when I think that I write until the words run into the ground. I reuse metaphors and recycle imagery until the English language is used up and nothing but compost. But god, it is like yours can speak life into being. They are a breath of fresh air in the cave where I’ve been hiding, and for the first time in a while, I remember what light tastes like.

ii. Every night I have tried desperately to feel something, anything, squinting at the ceiling to try to force a single tear out and pretend that I remember what emotion is. But you remind me what the ocean feels like on my cheeks.
And it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.

iii. Sometimes, the only reason I still believe in God is because someone had to have sent you here to save me.

iv. It’s been a really long time since I’ve believed a compliment. And it’s only because you have worked your way into my life well enough to know my imperfections and then continue to see beyond them.

v. I can see my future more clearly with you than with anyone else.

vi. I get into trouble because it seems I romanticize everyone who comes into my life, constantly thinking of them as a better person than they might be.
Except you. You are literally as amazing as I think you are. (And just as you are the only one who can compliment me, trust me when I say I know what I’m talking about when it comes to you).

vii. I swear, if my life ever flashed before my eyes, I would see only high school swim meets, camera-******* photo shoots, squirrel watching, Prom, late night conversations in the glow of the moon, and a brief glimpse of a girl struggling to read my clearly too-fancy name tag.

viii. I realized while writing this, that for the first time, I am actively trying not to be self-deprecating. I guess if someone like you can love me, I want to work a little harder to try as well.
You are right; we bring out the best in each other. For a while, I thought that I could only build others up by tearing myself down. But with you, I feel like we can take over the world (which we will). I hope I have loved enough to make you feel the same way

ix. Thank you. For all that phrase is worth and then a hundred times more. It cannot even come close to conveying what I feel right now, but then again, I was the one who was never comfortable with emotions to begin with.

x. I love you.

It was the thrill of throwing a towel around your shoulders and ruling over your Beanie Babies with a firm but gentle hand.
It was the jewels on your construction paper crown that told the world it was your special day.
It was the sweet taste of grapes when you pretended to be the ruler of Ancient Egypt.
It was following Harold and his crayon on their adventures under the scribbled moon.
It was the musk of ozone on the first night you saw lightning rattle the world.
It was the awe in your wide eyes as you watched countless wounded soldiers stand tall in the spotlight.

Yes, it is the symbol of noble blood, of utmost confidence and unparalleled dignity
But it is also the childhood fantasies that never really left us
And it is why, even though we know it’s the closest we’ll ever get to royalty
It is impossible to resist joining a young Simba in singing
Oh, I just can’t wait to be king.