I want to pick up the phone
and tell you I love you
shout it from the ******* rooftops
so you'll know I've felt this way all along.
I don't know how I can prove it to you
or if you doubt my every instance to try and let you know.
I'm ****** up,
I wish I could fix myself, but I can't.
The only thing I know for sure
is that I love you.
I don't know what else to do with myself,
when my lows are so completely irrationally low
you're the only one I want to talk to,
when something good happens to me
you're the one I want to run to and tell.
But instead I'm sitting here,
wishing I had some kind of backbone,
and some sort of security.
These bones are shaking from the things
my mind is capable of conjuring up.
The lower I get, the more I love you.
Save me, if it's not asking too much.

I told myself I wouldn't write for an entire month,
but as my anxiety attack of a mindset
blended with my desire to fly
I realized I was driving with the windows down
when the rain outside was pouring down my arm,
making a puddle at the thigh of my pants.
I had never once felt bliss like this.
The night sky kissed my open wounds
like mother nature was trying to let me know
everything will be okay.
I was told that I was nothing,
spat to the ground as the words left your lips
and you took a drag from that cigarette
you've been trying to quit for months now.
So I realize you are weak,
clinging to the addictions you cannot escape from
and I'm not talking about the cigarette stained teeth
or the coffee smeared t shirt..
You are self-destructive.
just as quick as 3-2-1
you explode your insecurities onto others
and I will no longer let that be me.

I fell in love once and didn't know it.
The eyes I saw the world from were blinded
by your keen distaste for life
and your knack for self-righteous cynicism
I grew up thinking love was just a myth
and no one, not even me was worthy of it
Then someone made me realize that the life I lived
was the one that made me who I was-
which was someone worthy of love.

So as I drove with the windows down
and rain pouring on my cheeks,
I realized this is manic if I had an explanation for it.
Then I smiled and realized
this is the closest I've ever felt to flying
and ******* I don't ever wanna come down.
So let me lift myself up until I can no longer
remember what it feels like to be grounded,
where all the logic is nonexistent
where I can learn to love myself again.  
That's where I was, that's where I'll always be
the day I picked back up my pen.

I've decided to give up on the things that make me happy because in the end I end up ******* it up anyway. I ****** up. I made the wrong choice and I am stuck here wishing that by some stretch I would obtain some life threatening disease so my ****** up tendencies would stop hurting people. But **** THAT because no matter what I think of myself, I am a good ******* person. You showed me that and I hate you for it, because apart of me is wishing I didn't think of you all the ******* time and about how much we have in common or how much I want to punch you in the throat because you know me way better than I could ever possibly know myself. I am ******* broken and the only time I feel whole is when I am with you but that feeling is far few in-between nowadays. I asked for help, I was trying to reach out to you in hopes things didn't change but I know they have. And it breaks my ******* heart with each passing day. These thoughts that encompass my mind are made up of what I have become and no one is safe from these hands that will break everything within their reach. So I give up on these things so many people want to cling to, I give up. Nothing is worth it anymore. I am destruction. Wait for it.

The distorted thing about being in love is you're always questioning if the hands you hold are honest or if their intentions go deeper than just modesty, if everything you've worked so hard for is just to occupy a space in their sheets. You bought me ice cream once, I didn't even have to ask you to, you just put it in my mailbox and told me to walk out and look inside. It had a little yellow post-it note on it. That was when I realized no one had ever done that for me before, no one had ever went out of their way to show their appreciation for me. But that was the last time something like that happened because the moment I became yours, you stopped trying. The sad thing is I stay with you because I believe all I deserve are nice words with no action to back them up. When in reality, I deserve someone who would move mountains for me, travel a million miles just to see me smile because I would do that much for someone. I'm sorry I feel so worthless but nothing makes me feel otherwise. I don't ask for too much but you are too selfish with your ways.  This relationship is a two way street, but yours in under-construction and blocked off to any hope of getting to you. I wish I could make you understand the way the things you do ******* my mentality and make me wish to god I didn't have such a big heart. Maybe I shouldn't have given you so much of myself just so you can throw it all away and pick it all up again whenever you do so choose. I guess this is what I deserve and maybe you were brought into my life to make me realize I will never be that person everyone else thinks I am. I will never deserve more than what I receive from you.

What the **** am I doing with my life? A question I don't think I ponder enough. Whenever this question arises I simply reply to myself. "I don't ******* know?" and continue on with my day not thinking about it again until my broken record of a mind wants to stick on that subject for hours on end, making me replay every decision I've made up until this point and oh ****... am I ******* failure? I have no clue what I want to do with the rest of my life, what if I wanna have kids or get married or be successful? WHAT THE **** AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE. "I don't ******* know" and I think thats ******* okay because **** I am only 19 and I'm not like Ted Mosby who thinks he has to be married by thirty.... ****, do I even wanna get married? The only thing I'm sure of in my life that stays is this pen and this page, these fingers and this rage and this insane desire to eat bacon at least once a day. I am ******, but I mean that's okay because I'm doing my thing, working it all out as I go. I am inconsistent and I change my mind more than most new parents change diapers, or housing, or credit cards when trying to pay for their groceries. I will never stay the same and that's one thing I can say for sure won't change. I'm okay, and I may not know what I want to do with my life but there's time for that. I have more walls to punch holes into, more nights to spend drunken slurring more secrets than I care to recollect, and even more nights spent alone crying into my pillow wondering why the **** no one treats me with the same decency I treat them. I guess this is growing up and **** I think Blink 182 depicted it better.

I don't feel it anymore,
the desire to chase something not within my reach.
It's like I have spent my life asleep at the wheel
unable to control any cognitive function available to me.
I will not marry a man like my father
but the idea is merely impossible
when the hands that tore apart our family,
have similar finger prints to every man I've ever known.
You cannot find anyone who doesn't remind you,
at least a little bit of someone else you know.
Someone you love so dearly to hate.
I will not adapt to those around me
I will grow lonesome and on my own
because that's how it's been for 18 years.
I do not flourish in your embrace
I wilt and wither and crumble.
Wake up, realize you are dreaming
that the only reason you stay
is because you feel less alone.

I've come to realize that everything I write is somehow about you and you are the inspiration behind all the madness and whenever something goes wrong I want to run, full force, into your presence only for you to say some **** to me that makes me laugh and makes me forget why the **** I ever had a reason to be sad. Maybe I will start believing in myself when I stop ******* things up. This mind has held onto the idea of you for quite some time and I can't seem to shake the feeling everything is already how it is supposed to be because losing you would be the second worst thing I've ever done, the first being hurting you. I am the global warming of many people's lives,  I burn down the necessities and I freeze, I make the breeze turn to ice and turn these winds into a windchill and my heart is cold again. My heart will always be unsure of who to trust and lust and love because I'm still trying to decide whether or not I believe in any of it, at all. I keep trying to tell myself I am okay, but then nights alone remind me that I cannot be who I am with anyone, because who I am is destructive. My aura alone could cause a hole in the entire ozone layer, then we would all be ******. I don't know what to think when every bone in my body wants me to think of you. The idea of you wrapped in someone else's embrace with a smile on your face gives me an inane sense of comfort. Because I am destruction, and I burn everything I touch.