I try to be the person I’ve wanted myself to be all along. And I try to make you listen to these words I speak and hope you understand. But some things just don’t happen the way we want them to. And the days we want to sit out and watch the stars, the sky is blank and so are our minds. So I cherish the days my mind is filled with regret, and memories, mostly of the days I wish to wash away with those regrets. I will take each galaxy and paint them across my emotions just to show you what I feel is more than just an expression. I feel so low when the days are the same and even when the sun is out I remember when it rains and I’m not sure that will ever change. These moments of euphoria weigh out the moments of extreme distress when clutching a bottle to my chest seems to be my only savior, I savor those moments of mania because they make for a **** good story to tell. My days are numbered and so are yours. Whatever comes will make me or break me in ways that will alter me. Maybe the love for myself won’t be enough, but I’m willing to figure it out. I’ve spent years hating who I am and that’s the most exhausting thing I’ve done to myself. I woke up.

I hear myself think, but I can't ever hear myself talk. I mean I do but it's not in a voice I recognize anymore and I think I'm inbetween finding myself and losing myself. I'm not really sure which way I will go, maybe a little bit of both because that would the road less traveled right? So wouldn't that make all the difference? See I have an inference that if I try hard enough to control these things in which I don't think I can, I someday will and whether it be true or not it's hope that keeps me going. I am alive and it's weird to say because so sooo many times I wished I were dead. On every star in that **** sky I wished I had never been alive, but now it's so different. I wish on the stars to keep living and I wish for adventures and culture and **** maybe one day even children- maybe thats too far... and maybe the road I have paved for myself is mediocre because I have never done it before, but ******* I tried my best. These fists will no longer drag me down and this mind will no longer hold me back. I am not chained to anything anymore except some words on a page and in thirty minutes it will be tomorrow and I will see a new day again, one I had wished so long ago wouldn't come. But tomorrow, I will see the sun and the clouds and feel the grass on my feet and I will remember that even your self esteem can blow off some steam and your worries are just water weight you need to get ****** and **** out before you let them weigh you down. Stick around kid, it's worth it.

I hope for second chances in life, not those in which I don’t deem myself worthy of at least. I mean, I want another chance to speak these words to an open canvas of people and watch the expressions that fill their faces as I spill my guts on their shoes and reveal a little more about myself than they would infer someone my age had went through. I long for that gaze. It is filled with sorrow and regret and love and peace all in the same moment and I think that’s the only time I have experienced euphoria. I believe in life there always lies a second chance at something, or someone. But the second I chance that second of chance I become deranged and paranoid and I succumb to the pressures my anxiety puts me under and wonder when she will stop being such a psychotic ***** and give me a chance to live my life again. I haven’t been the same since the Effexor filled my veins and I’ve been scratching at my surface ever since, looking for a chance to find myself again.

I tell myself to rebuild these broken wings I find myself soaring upon, but I realize the necessary tools are missing. I try to get a handle on my current situation but I realize there's no handle on my bedroom door anymore and I am trapped again. I have made a mess of the remains out of broken dry wall and picture frames.  I rebuild, rebuild, rebuild but it's never like it was before. The paint is two-toned and some things can't be covered with a painting of your face next to mine. Some things can't even be patched up. Such as the way your eyes seem to guide me into a world that seems too daunting to stay inside. I let the breeze carry me away and hope the broken wings can still soar despite the damage that has been done. I have made a bed out of all my regrets and have no issues laying in it anymore and nowadays I tend to sleep better than I live. I have seen the misery in your eyes when the thought of me waking up without you on my mind crossed yours, and I've never felt so low. Plausibility isn't always the best reality and I know with you we have our differences, but that doesn't make a difference to me. Maybe the days I deem dull are just a distant memory and every time I wake up without you is a day I want to get through just to see you. Sappiness is not in my agenda, but intentions lead to attention on some occasions and I would like to spend every occasion with you.. Loving you has been the best thing I have ever done for myself. The first decision I made without anyone but myself in mind was when I said you could call me yours. Please believe me when I say, I will always be yours even if the day comes that we expire, I will age like fine wine, with you always still on my mind.

It's funny how conversation can change things,
and how the words that spill from my mouth
aren't the same ones you paint upon my skin.
The days that decay you are the same that betray you
and your lips quiver at the thought of it.
Would you still hold me close at night
if I would have never sparked the conversation.
If all my effort ran dry and you held the canister
would you use it to help me bloom
or would you let me slowly wither away?
I am done being the one man machine
for this two-way street.
It takes two to tango and I'm dancing alone,
drenched in sweat while you watch from the sidelines.
I don't think you know what it's like
or do you? and is that why you pause before every choice?
Are you too scorned by your past to realize -
I need you to try for me,
and maybe this is me being selfish
or spoiled or something
but I don't want to feel like one of the games on your shelf
I don't want to have to grasp you by the jaw
just so you give me something to work with.
There is no conclusion if your words are elusive.
I just want mid-day 'I love you' reminders
or appreciation pictures of us together.
I don't need too much, just a little is enough.
The hands that hold me up
consequently are the same ones that hold me back.

I spend so much time telling myself not to break
I forget to acknowledge the fact-
I'm already ******* broken.
The pieces of me are spread out
amongst the hearts I've ripped to pieces
not realizing because the bottle
masked any emotion I thought I had.
It ***** listening to the stories of her
how highly you think of someone
who tore apart your heart-
I guess just like I did
and maybe that's why I hate her
maybe because I actually hate what I did to you...
But still hearing her ******* name makes me cringe
because you were the first person I actually opened up to
and **** I ******* cared for you.
If you think for a second that I didn't
then good, that's exactly what I wanted back then.
But now, I wish I could've let you know
it was never you-
the reason that I ran
It was insecurity and low self worth
that sent me running far from what I wanted all along.

I gave love a chance again,
because I didn't wanna **** up
the way I so royally did with you.
I know you never loved me
not like you thought you did at least
and you never fell for me exactly
just the mere idea of who you thought I was.
But I am damaged-
and I would have destroyed you
every single thing you gave,
because that's what I did then.

But because of you
I found great love
and opened up in ways
I never thought I would.
I learned to love myself
after I lost you.
My days are spent loving someone
in a way I never thought was even possible.
I never want this feeling to end,
and god I hope you get what you deserve.
You deserve so much.
Find it, and never let it go-
I know **** well I won't make that mistake again
I will love until I can no longer take it anymore-
It's an addiction, and ironically a cure.

I have no vices,
no advice for anyone who doesn't either.
I don't smoke cigarettes or even drink coffee.
I'm not much of a drinker anymore
and marijuana gives me anxiety.
So on days when the world is crushing me
one foot into my throat at a time
I wonder what my vice could be.
Pills have found themselves into the throats of many,
and when they found the empathy in my esophagus
They won.
And then the blade found it's way to my wrist
and I wondered how I got like this.
So ever since then, no vices for me.
No way out, no mask or hiding behind lies
or behind the counter counterfeits
Just my own demons staring right back at me
like gazing at my reflection in broken mirrors.
I have understood the beauty of a sunset
and known what it's like to cling to the darkness shortly after.
I have felt the sinister euphoria behind broken drywall
and broken noses.
But all of it led me to the same place I was before.
Clinging onto drunken nights and drunken lips,
with every cigarette lit I reminded myself-
this wasn't who I am and I liked it that way.

Now those drunken nights turn to dark ones
and those drunken lips have turned to friendships
so ever since then I remind myself that nothing is permanent
and as I realize the only thing that could save me in the end,
was knowing that I've done ****** things and
the world that surrounds me has been ****** since I entered it
but I am no cowered.
I will love more than I have been loved
which isn't a hard thing to do
because people, printers and partying came first-
I have always been a secretary to secondary.
But I will fear no man, or take no one's ****
I will live this life how I envisioned it,
and love more than I have witnessed.