it's all purple now,
our memories.
every time I think of you, the pain deep down in my heart breaks me open like a flower that just couldn't wait to bloom. do you remember? the weekend we just couldn't help but love each other? you promised to spend the day with me, holding me tight when the tears poured out because I knew this wouldn't last. and I was right. you know you  were the first boy to ever call me pretty? and as much as I loved it, it just made the purple a little more violent. our love, once so exciting, has left me banging my head against the bus seat where it first started. every time you wrap your arms around her, I remember how it feels to be in them. every time you laugh with her, I dig my nails a little deeper in my arm because I remember how intoxicating it is, and the pain is my morphine. the purple is uncontrollable. the pain is uncontrollable. you are uncontrollable.

my mind hasn't been this dark since fourth grade when i was in a "depressed place" I would cry and cry and say I was just sad. no reason behind it. Maybe it was just hormones or part of growing up  but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop. Flash forward to now. I can't stop crying, a new reason everyday. it feels like a million little rain clouds took over my mind and blocked out my joy. I crave things that are destructive. that boy my parents hate who has an ego problem but the fact someone likes me makes me feel great. I crave that sharp knife going in to my big, awkward thigh. and the idea of death has become so familiar to me I welcome it like a friend. I want so badly to stop this but when people forget you ******* exist you let it in a little more than before. You picture crying and bleeding and screaming. it excites you like ridding a roller coaster. maybe this could stop but I'm so ******* alone. I forgot the boy who liked to talk about Jesus and I follow the one who puts me down. I forgot about my friends who snuggled and laughed but chose the ones who hate everything. I push things away that let me remember joy but keep the stuff that makes the rain clouds.

I still have them
those stupid vampire teeth
the ones you won for me
and it's almost Halloween
and I wonder if you have yours
or if you think about that day
the rainy days are filling my head with ****** memories of being in love
and although I pushed you out for so **** long you've managed to sneak back in
with you're endless supply of songs "I would like" or you're sweet smelling cologne
but it hurts so bad
because you're in love
with that girl who loves your family
and dress ******* normal.
I'm just the girl who fills your days with conversations and keeps you comfort on those long, dark, bus rides.
but I'm never the one you'd choose
because I love you
and that would be to **** easy

My friend Ethan tells me not to get my hopes up too high because I don't want a repeat of the last time. I know he's right. The last time I put just a little more love than I should've and I cared just a little more than normal. But this boy is different I swear to him. He's mature and not awkward, plus he's got experience. But I know deep down that he's probably just the same. And that at the end of all this I will be crying on the cold floor of my bathroom, throwing up just to avoid the near occasion of bumping into him. Like it did last time, and the time before. I pray for a sign begging God to PLEASE SHOW ME IF THIS IS WRONG. And maybe He does. But my heart shaped glasses are too ******* dark for me to even realize it. But I know deep down that I do see it and accepting that is too hard so i lie to myself. Because i want it so bad to be real. I imagine kissing him as I press my ever so ****** lips across my hand. I imagine him hugging me every time the sweat breaks out during my panic attacks. I want so badly to be his. And so badly do I want him to be mine. I tell my friends I'm okay. Swear that I won't fall to hard and let this hurt me again. But everyone knows that I fall fast and hard. My hopeless conversations are just an attempt for love. Like a mating call a bird makes but is more like a call into the distance because nobody hears. I feel so pathetic, lying to myself and hoping i guessed right. My stomach is sick and I haven't slept much. Love makes me sick. But maybe it's the thought that I've dug myself into a hole that only ends with lava. A self destruction mission and I just pushed the button. I started a game I can't end. A game I know all to well. And even if I tell myself i wouldn't, I will get hurt.

If I was a character in a romantic comedy, I would probably either be that random hot dog vendor on the side of the street or the best friend that sort of dies off after the first 6 minutes. The girl who has a pretty face but has absolutely zero relevance to the movie. Maybe a witty line here or there but that's it. My problems are so minimal. To others. My crushes are relentless, my sorrows are pathetic, and my all together appearance is lame. I'm the character that drinks white wine in champaign glasses at the bar but cries her self to sleep when the cameras aren't watching. I'm the character that ruins white wedding dresses with finger foods but wonders when it'll be her time to be the starring role in life. I'm the character who is passionately in the love with the bag boy but nobody cares enough to notice, not even him.

The first time I learned what *** was, I was 10. My parents didn't even have "the talk". No. I found out from a boy, grinning as he rubbed his erasers together. I asked my mom, "Mom, what's ***?" and because *** IS SOMETHING I SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF, she said something like "You're to young". TOO YOUNG TO KNOW HOW LIFE IS CREATED?! And let's not forget the time I learned what gay meant I thought it was a bad word. The word my classmates laughed at and called each other. I watched my first Modern Family episode in the third grade, my closed minded comments spilled out and increasing got more homophobic as I watched my fathers laugh feed into my immaturity. Looking back, I'm disgusted. I was a candle, dim but had the potential to light the dark room, surrounding me. I just hadn't been light yet. The time I realized I was a feminist i was twelve. So eager to please and maintain my perfect child persona, that being told my "bra strap showing was disgusting" I cried my way through pre algebra. To ashamed to tell my friends or family. LIKE YES. I HAVE **** UNDER MY SHIRT IS THAT A ******* PROBLEM?!All I could think of was how my MALE ASSISTANT ******* PRINCIPAL CALLED ME OUT AND ISOLATED ME ALONE, MAKING ME FEEL ASHAMED OF MY BODY AND MY GENDER! I shouldn't have felt ashamed of sexuality **** I shouldn't have felt ashamed of my gender. NOBODY SHOULD EVER FEEL ASHAMED OF THEMSELVES. Here's a letter to past, present, and future self, and to all those little girls who were raised to be closed minded and ashamed, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL, EVERYONE IS WORTH LOVE, YOUR BODY IS NOT HERE FOR MALES TO GAUG AT. YOU ARE MORE THAN A *** ITEM, AND IF A MAN EVER MAKES YOU FEEL ASHAMED OF WHO YOU ARE, KICK HIM IN THE *****, FLICK HIM OFF, AND WALK AWAY. BECAUSE HONEY, US WOMEN ARE BETTER THAN THAT ****!

Heart beats violently
Eyes start blurring
Pace is pulsing
Mind is racing
Tears are pouring