Every second your eyes meet my skin an inch melts off, melting until I am forced to turn away, so that my insides don't splatter on the marble floor.
One day I shall stop turning away, let you melt me.
For that at least will make your eyes stay for a second longer
on what can only be described as a tragedy.

I love the way he looks at me after I've made a silly joke.
His face tells me that I am being ridiculous, silly and childish.
His eyes tell me to continue and never stop.

Growing up too fast hits the hardest when you are a teenager.
You look around your friends, who are talking about things you thought about two years back.
I often try to give my help, because I’ve done this before.
I did the tears, the anger and the confusion ages before.
I wish I could say it got better.

The ideal mindset is that everything will eventually be ok, that calm will come after the storm.
But as I sit here on the back of the bus watching a child’s tiny hand trace the window in a pattern I’ll never understand, I realize that I’ll never get that back.
I’ll never get back a time where I could just be happy.