you wrote the book on being an *******.
i read it twice.
and i find myself alluding to it
all the time.

you told me the definition of high art was broke.
if i wanted to succeed,
i needed to trash my collection of huxley
and memorize
every action sequence
in every jerry bruckheimer film.

you based the last six years of your life
on a ghandi misquote,
you ripped from wikipedia.

you told me love was just mankind kidding himself.
only trust in what you can feel,
"like *******."

i wrote an article about you,
i asked  if you believed in god.
your reply,
"god is a concept
by which we measure our pain."
i thought that was clever.

it took me 3 months to remember
that's off lennon's Plastic Ono Band.

It looks like another day
what can i say, what can i say
just fallen words by the way
why do i pay, why do i pay

It looks like another night
what will i fight, what will i fight
everything that's in my sight
i am never right, i am never right

it looks like another war
what is it for, what is it for
raging while the enemies snore
not anymore, not anymore

Today, I actually felt a little happy.
Wanted.
Loved.
But you noticed and couldn't let me have my happiness could you?
"Freak with all those cuts and scars"
Do you really think that made me feel better?
You took my happy day and turned it to ****.
I hope you're happy now.
Because Im not.

I
Am an English Major.
Numbers **** ***,
And I keep trying to pass it
But I'm stuck in this class.
My homework's due in three hours
But I'm rhyming instead,
I
Am an English Major
Who would rather be dead.
Or go to bed.
Or eat bread.
Just not do math.
****

Saying your name will always hurt.

I believed you when
you said that you would love me
forever.
I nodded benignly through my tears
when you said you never
wanted to hurt me like this again,
and that's why
you did it then.
I wanted to kiss you
when you reached
for my hand and told me
this was only because you wanted
to be there for me.
I tried to forgive you,
so we could be friends
like you wanted
because until then
I was amazed by the way
you knew and understood me,
you were my safety blanket when
I hadn't felt safe before
and because of this I was
blind to the ropes you tied to me
like I was a broken marionette.

Now I can't believe
you saw my scars and didn't kiss them,
let alone allow me to tell you their story.
I can't believe you ****** my friend
two weeks after
you took knives to the places in my heart
you knew would hurt me most.
But mostly,
I can't believe you expected me
to crawl back into your arms after all this.

I want to throw at you
all the notebooks I've wasted
writing about you.
I want to scream at you for
treating my heart like either
(I can't decide which is more true)
a playtoy or something that
you could save,
neither of which were right.

I realize you're worth none of this.
You're not the girl I fell in love with,
you're not the girl I trusted with all of me,
and I don't miss you
I miss that girl.

I tried to hard to forgive you,
but you don't deserve that.

All I can do is forget.

(Sincerely) *******.