The mention of you used to make my eyes water and my stomach do back flips.
I pretended that your name didn't bother me, and my memories of the nights I spent with my feet pounding on asphalt and not safe in my bed, weren't there.

I pretended that the dreams of piercing screams and puffy eyes didn't wake me up because I was sobbing in my sleep.
That the images of you with a fist raised at mom scarred into my mind by that 7 year old me, with watery eyes and a hoarse throat, didn't burn inside my chest.

When they mention you now, it brings but a sharp pain and a dull ache. And Sympathy. Sympathy for the way you build yourself fast, and then tear yourself down faster. Empathy for the family that destroyed itself by loving you and trying to fix you without your help.

When they mention you now, I see you. Deep underwater in the vast ocean. Sick with self-destruction and guilt. With a weight tied to your ankle and bottle in your hand you can't breathe, but neither can I and you're blaming the sun the moon and the stars but dad, don't you remember? With one hand tight on that bottle, you tied the weight.

If I ever had a choice,
To sacrifice my own life to save others,
I would.

Why?

Because I care?
Maybe.
But mostly because I would feel like the only one who deserves to be the sacrifice.

There are instances where the people who need help are not always the ones who display there sadness,
But also the ones who hide it as well,
When they put on a cracked mask of deception and lies,
Filled with holes and crevices that consume all light,
To keep others from staring.

Sometimes, the ones who need help are the ones who constantly give it,
Trying to find a purpose for themselves by helping others,
They ignore themselves and seek to give them shelter,
Even when they are the ones who have left them alone,  

These people are the ones who suffer silently,
Because they are too afraid of the burden it would cause others,
Because they clearly see that their biggest problems involve seemingly trying to find demons to fight, instead of thanking God that they have none.

There are instances when these people begin to fill with hatred,
It creeps into their soul like spiders on webs,
And as their mind disintegrates under it's own weight,
They will put on their masks of cracks and lies so you don't stare.

There's a point in life when everything you thought you knew
is nothing.
Everything you thought you had laying under the palm of your hand as you flew.
Trying to escape the problems that "they" created for you, right?

There's a point when you look around and wonder where everyone went,
why doesn't anyone call you anymore?
Your phone is off; why is it off?
When was the last time you spoke to your mother?
You missed your sister's birthday last month because you were too ashamed to show your face because of the hours before you spent in the bathroom picking at the sores on your face and neck.

Your eyes are bloodshot and your skin is paper thin and pale,
your teeth are slowly decaying away,
and there comes a time when you realize why no one calls you anymore and why you didn't go to that birthday and why the phone you used to spend hours talking on is off,

But you're just trying to escape the problems that "they" created for you, right?

When I was a girl,
I would always notice how the waves would come crashing to the shore,
Kissing it like a bond unbreakable,
I Would notice how the clouds would float in the sky's endless blue,
As if cradled by a mother that would never drop them,

I would notice how no matter where I would go,
The waves and the clouds always had somewhere to return to,
A place they could find themselves,
A place they could call their own,

When I was a young woman,
I would gaze at the ocean and sky,
Wishing I had a place to call my own as they do,
A place where I could find myself and not feel lost in my own skin,
I wanted to find myself.

When I met you,
When I finally met you,
I thought I had found the place I'd stayed awake at night searching for,
With eyes puffy and body curled into a Celtic knot,
I thought I'd found the place where I could find myself,

When I fell in love with you,
I felt as if I were a newborn baby clinging to the warmth of it's mothers chest,
As if I were the waves kissing the shore and the clouds being held by the sky,
But when I realized that I was not the waves,
That I was not the clouds That I was not the baby,
I crumbled- and you didn't catch me,

Not because you didn't want to but because you were not the place where I could find myself and you knew,
You knew and so I fell,

And while falling I realized that it was not your fault,
That no matter if the sky holds the clouds till the end of time,
and if the sea kisses the shore for an eternity,
The place I had spent sleepless nights searching for in the vast Savannah of my mind and every crevice of your body,
The place I had believed would finally make me feel cradled and accepted,
Was not in you,

It was in no one but myself.

I'm as happy as I'll ever be.

I am not like others.
I am different. Somehow.
I think in a different way.
I speak in a different way.
I feel things strangely.
I see things in a different perspective.

I am deep.
I know things that other people don’t.
I see things in a way other people couldn't comprehend.
Things are strange in my eyes.
Everything has meaning. Everything is a symbol.
I see it. I see them.

I am sad.
No matter what I do there’s always something to drag me down.
Sometimes it’s nothing.
Sometimes it’s everything.
I cannot be free from it.
It follows me like a shadow.
It strikes when I’m alone.
When I’m most deep in thought.
When my mind goes elsewhere.

I am lost.
My mind is dark.
Yet I am enlightened.
I fall into myself.
I fall into my deepest thoughts.
They race around my mind.
So deep. So diverse.
So interesting. So different and wise.
Like I’ve lived several lives before.
All this goes on yet I can’t even understand myself.
I fail to comprehend my own thoughts.
My own mind. My own being.
Who I am is a mystery, even to myself.

I am not like others.
I am different. Somehow.
But maybe that thought is exactly what makes us the same.

He's got his taste now,
The storm is coming,
It's over now,
It's over,

I can see it now,
The storm is coming,
But I will run and run and run,
And you won't catch me,

I will run through the black,
I will run through the past,
And our present,
And my future,

I will not let this storm take me down again,
Run from the wind,
Untouchable,
Invincible,

And I will not let myself become cold again,
Run from the thunder,
Unstoppable,
Implacable,

He's got his taste now,
The storm is coming,
But I won't be caught,
I will not be caught by your storm.

Drive my heart into the ground,
My body into the ocean deep,
Drop my soul into the ravine,
You're good with pain anyway.

My mind wanders as I make my way,
Towards ocean water drifting,
In the light of an ending day,

My breath is slow as I descend,
Into water salty and warm,
Waves and currents which bend,

My thoughts race as a let my body go,
I hold my breath and submerge my face,
And the rest of me follows,

My eyes are heavy as I sink farther down,
Water getting chiller and light getting darker,
I tell myself to sink farther,

I don't want to be found.

When I cry myself to sleep at night,
I can't help but think:

This is the way it's supposed to be.

I never thought I'd have to see her like this so soon. So young. So cold.
I should have listened to her. I should have talked to her more. Seen her more. She always asked me why I seemed so distant from her, I always got frustrated and denied it.

Now she's the distant one.

We would argue often. About communication. Our feelings. Her feelings. She had a very hard life. A violent alcoholic father. She grew up untainted by her surroundings, but scarred. Chronic Anxiety and Depression. She would cry often, and get mad and angry for sometimes no reason. She said she didn't know why it happened; it just did, and that I couldn't understand. That made me angry. Even though she was right; I really couldn't.

I haven't had an easy life in the past few years, but it doesn't compare to hers. I didn't know what is was like to be as depressed as she was. To be as anxious as she was. She would always check up on me, because she always worried about me. I myself, just took it and never did it for her.

What a mistake.

I remember my 17th birthday. She was more excited than I was, and couldn't wait for me to finally see what she had done for me. She was adorable when she talked about it. I spent the day with her and she made me a homemade card themed my favorite video game, and a Key Lime pie from scratch. I love Key Lime pie.
How I wish we could make it together, one last time.

A couple days after my birthday, a package she ordered came and she was ecstatic for me to finally have it. They were custom made genuine dog tags. They had my information on one tag, and a personalized message from her on the other. Her message read, "KNOWING YOU HAS MADE ALL THE DIFFERENCE, AND LOVING YOU HAS MADE MY WORLD." I wear them everywhere, even to today.

But when her birthday came around, I didn't get her anything. Not even a card. She was really upset, and I felt guilty when she mentioned it, so I never did get her anything; I felt it was too late.

Whenever she was happy, she shined brighter than the sun. She smiled and laughed and was goofy. She would make up little songs about how much she loved me, and she would do anything for me. Now, I can only imagine how she felt when I left for the night, not doing anything for her.
I knew she had problems even before she met me. I knew she was chronically sad. I knew she had always been a rock, but had slowly started to erode and needed someone.

Why was I so selfish!?

I notice her mother is crying. Hysterically. They were so close. Her mom was so nice, always inviting me over and cooking for me even when they didn't have much food. Now, she looks like an empty husk of what she used to be. Crumpled on the floor, covered in her own tears, mourning the loss of her world.

My world.

Her younger brother sits with their dad, hugging and crying on each other, as well as the rest of her family. You can almost smell the saltiness in the air from all of the tears.

I've cried as much as I can. When I heard the news, I was in shock. I didn't want to believe she was gone. But eventually I screamed, bawled and raged at my loss. She was the only thing that mattered to me.

Now I stand here, silent and empty. My mind is numb, and all I can do is stare at her. Eyes closed, chest still, but still so beautiful. I had to battle with myself to even come and deal with seeing her like this. I finally move my stiff hand towards her curly hair and stroke it, and slowly move my hand to her shoulder. I imagine her opening her eyes and smiling at me with one of her beaming smiles. But I know it won't happen, and that's when the tears come.

I'll never see her smile, feel her lips against mine, hug her small body again. I can never hear her sweet voice again, telling me, "I love you" with a glow in her eyes.

Why didn't I show her how much she meant to me? Why couldn't I swallow my pride and be a little more caring and thoughtful for her the way she never failed to be for me? Why? I'm sobbing now. I collapse to my knees and rest my hand over hers. She's freezing. I rub her hands instinctively as if it will warm them up, but it doesn't.
I just want her to wake up. I feel as if it's my fault she's in eternal silence now. Apart of the world beyond, when I want her so desperately to be back here with me. I don't want her to leave me. I feel as if I can't live without her, she was the only one I'd ever truly loved, but in the end I failed her. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, I should have shown her more instead of using only my words!

I slowly stand up still covered in my tears, and stare at her sleeping body. I watch as one drips down onto her expressionless face. I use my thumb to gently wipe my tear away, just as I used to wipe hers. Now all I can do is think about what could have been, what I could have done, and what will never be.

"I'll miss you." I whisper through my sore choked throat, and kiss her cold forehead.

"I love you."

We were young in those days,
Cheerful and alive,
So full of innocent ignorance,
Silly in our minds,

You grew older,
I stayed young,
Young at heart but not at mind,
And I still can't tell which way you went,

You changed often,
Your looks; your style,
But you never stopped shining,
Radiating your beauty,

We were older now,
Your mind in other places,
Focused on more important things,
Too occupied to fit me in,

I missed you,
I missed you very much,
I was angry because I wanted to be young with you again,
Oh how I missed you,

The last thing I remember is saying goodbye,
Your long blonde hair flowing out the door,
But how could I have known that it would really mean it;
Goodbye.

If I had known,
I would have said more,
Embraced you,
Smiled at you and touched you.

Now I look at you in your bed,
Golden hair never to grow,
Pretty face never to smile,
And delicate chest never to rise and fall,

And I realize that all this time,
Maybe, just maybe,
If I had tried hard enough to reach you,
We could have been young again.

I told you I was sick,
sick with sadness and guilt,
that my days were lonely and quiet,
and so a wall I had built,

I talked about my thoughts and mind,
about how healing takes precious time,
but instead of understanding you gave me your suspicions,
and you're dumb for thinking depression is benign.

I had a dream,

It was two in the morning,
Quiet and dark,
Under dim street lamp lighted streets
we walked.

You were walking in front of me
and I was dawdling behind,
Gazing at the sparkling street lights
and at the moths circling frantically around the light,
As if trying to catch it; take hold of it for themselves.

I was a moth,
Trying to encircle and hold a light,
A light that I thought shined brilliantly,

But you were walking in front of me,
In the darkness
and not in my light.

Seeing this world with lucid eyes,
It's challenging to call it home,
But finding peace in this entropy is not to see the ugly of this place,
But to see beauty in the midst of ugly.

And even i'm still learning to do that.

I walk with my soul on my back,
All jumbled with my life in a sack,
It dirties and tumbles all around,
Inside this sack on my back.

It shakes with my worries and stress,
And with my fears that never rest,
But if I were to choose I'd have to say,
The least of its worries is fears and stress.

I heard a cry in the middle of the night,
It came from woods afar,
It came from beyond a world I know,
A world farther than the morning light

I heard a voice speak to me,
It yearned for the trees to know,
It wanted to woods and grass to see,
And weeds and flowers that grow,

The garden in the woods is dead now,
That world beyond what we know,
And the voice that trembled and spoke in my head,
That familiar voice was mine.

Funny how a word,
just a tiny little word,
can slither it's way into your ears,
and tingle it's way down your spine.

Funny how a word,
can wrap itself around your stomach,
intertwine itself through your body,
and make you feel nothing but guilt and regret,

Funny how a word,
can pierce your solid lungs,
shrivel them to dust,
leaving you choking in the air you breathe,

Funny how a word,
can reach into your chest,
and crumble your heart to pieces.

**better plug your ears my friends.

I want to be gone,
to be away from this world,
to linger in the depths of my head.

I want to feel alone,
feel closed from the world,
in a state to have nothing to dread.

Then why do I seek company?
someone or something to care?
why can't I slip into the shadows?
to be as safe and invisible as air?

I want to be gone,
away from this world,
to fade into the comforting black sea,

I want to be gone,
alone and free,
but I never want to leave.

Smell the morning dew,
open the curtain and feel the breeze,
hear the singing birds,
the time I feel at ease,

See the horizon sun,
through the window it gleams,
but the sound of horns and working roads,
is what woke me from that beautiful summer's dream.

If I could I would,
fly across this world,
through the sky and clouds,
never looking down.

I would swim with the breeze,
and ride with the waves,
not a care in the world,
not a care I say.

I could be free like a bird,
sing with the angels,
or sit with the graves,
not saying a word.

I could smile like the sun,
and dance like a fire,
but my "coulds" and "woulds" are "can'ts",
for I am alive,
and I cannot Retire.

Still and silent,
it sits grandly in the middle of the room,
waiting to be brought to life,
polished ivory,
shiny black and white,
lid lifted and strings visible.

She walks in the door,
it's time now to begin what's been waited for,
the seat creaks as she opens the top,
pulling a book of music out,
and begins to play the beautiful instrument.

Note after note,
the sound resonates,
throughout the space,
filling the void.

Pushing the foot pedals,
she creates many different incredible sounds,
as her fingers lightly move up and down the keys,
she smiles,
and people come to watch her,
not only her,
but the piano as well.

If it could be fall,
all year long,
I'd dance with the leaves,
along with the wind's song,

If it could be fall,
every single day,
such a world I would love,
in such a world I would stay,

If it could be fall,
till the end of time,
I'd sway with the trees,
this world forever mine.

Look at me,
here I am,
saying nothing,
just holding your hand,

You cry out of sorrow,
your tears hitting the ground,
I can feel your sobbing,
but hear little sound,

"What have I done?",
is all you seem to say,
you now realize your decision,
has a price to pay,

Look at you,
gripping my hand,
you brought this on yourself,
that I understand.

Fallen angel do not cry,
all the sadness is soon to pass by,
fallen angel do not weep,
all that was yours is now for you to keep,

Fallen angel do not be scared,
you can defeat the red eyes with nostrils flared,
fallen angel do not cry,
all the sadness is soon to pass by,

Fallen angel feel the bliss,
let the hands of God hold you and the angels kiss,
fallen angel do not cry,
all the sadness is soon to pass by.