Like a map
I see my future sprawled on a table
I know where I want to end up
I know where I am now

So many roads

I know which one will be easier
Which one is the “better” choice

Somehow, I don’t want that path

I don’t really care which path it is
As long as your hand is clasped in mine

Unless, you know, you think that would be awkward.

Your laugh is the most beautiful sound in my life
Even though it is a little bit awkward
A tad too loud
It makes people look over at our table
We have to look away
Act natural
Okay
It is more then a little bit awkward
But... it means you are happy

And that is beautiful

I am always a message unnoticed
A piece of fruit
Growing ripe
Soon to be tossed aside
A voicemail deleted before listened to

That is why you surprise me
You see me.
The way I used to see myself.
The first boy to tell me I’m beautiful…

Thank you for not looking through the lenses
That erase my existence

Thank you for helping me
To take them off

Somehow I’m not certain.
There are reoccuring instances of peace
Pure joy.
Still, I crumple.
Can I really give everything I have?
My life?
Somehow the peace disappears into doubt.
It isn’t enough.
I'm not enough.
Not enough to take the leap.
Help me be strong enough
To take that leap.
I’m sick of standing on the top of this cliff
Waiting for my life to happen.

You can’t see me.
I don’t really blame you.
You only see the walls the world has built around me.
As much as I try to joke about this box
As loud as I scream that I am a person
You see a box.
I try my hardest to charm my way out
You only see the walls.
I fight it. I don’t want to be the girl in a box anymore.
I work.
I’m trapped.
I can’t get out of the box, and you will never understand why.
You’ll never know why I don’t just get out.
I can’t.
I wouldn’t want you to feel this way.
To you, I’ll just be a box.
No one can love a box.

So we disagree?
Please remember our freedom-
Why we must defend.

Silky smooth syllables
Sliding away into silent passages of nothingness
Never dreamt of
Never to be summoned by the crevices in one’s own soul

Romantics and dreamers would sigh in sweet, melancholy sorrows
Craving gratifying sugar coated contemplations
I carry the solemn news
Sorrow fogging over their eyes

My soul cries out to them
“Don’t you understand?”
“It means nothing”

My heart hears me whisper
I mean nothing
I am nothing

No one is listening to my silent sing-song words.