but eventually, all the metaphors fall apart
and come to nothing
like paper dissolving in water
fanciful words dissolving with it
and without romanticized phrases
and rose-tinted writings
there is only unembellished truth

what are you to do
when you're walking down a hall
gray walls, gray floor, gray ceiling
no texture at all

the hall is long
like one of those assignments they make you do
in your highschool art class
where you draw two lines
that start with some distance between them
but as you drag your pencil across the paper
you angle the lines inward towards one another
maybe to create a road or
a hallway with checkered floors
and doors that you never angle quite right

but my hallway
is just... gray
and drawn out, it seems that the hall never stops
all i can think
all i can feel right now
is that i'll drag my feet step by step
through this bland bland hallway
and when i reach the end of the drawing
the illusion that it continues
i'll just leap off the paper

im so alone
i am so
alone

In the past, when the present would become too heavy
I'd throw myself into the idea of a distant future
That future was bright and hopeful
Because I always pictured being loved by someone else
In a home decorated to fit our taste
With little plants that'd never go unwatered
And a kitchen where I'd make all my favorite foods

But most importantly, in my little future, I was happy because someone loved me and was there to pick up the pieces when I fell apart.
And maybe that's why I'm so unhappy right now
Not because no one loves me
Because even in my fantasies, in the most sunshiny and optimistic crooks of my brain, my happiness was still dependent on the romantic love of another person

How is it that I've become this way?
That I place my self worth in how other people perceive me?
Worst of all, I'm picky about who determines my worth

I don't want love handed out to me, no no
Because I don't trust it! I don't trust that someone could love me
without a struggle after knowing me and seeing me for who I am
So when someone does love me, I question it constantly
I get angry with myself
and that's no way to live.

How am I to allow myself to be loved without restraint if I can't even love myself?

So now, my safe haven will be
Bright and hopeful,
An apartment decorated to fit my taste...
and the taste of four other girls, with whom I'll be living
Fake plants because none of us are mature enough to keep a real one alive, and that's okay right now
A kitchen where I'll cook easy meals because I'm young and have **** to do
Most importantly,

In this future, I will be loved.
Because I am going to learn to love myself.

Please god make it stop

One day I will walk out of that door
and never walk back in