i'm sorry
i know it wasn't meant to be like this
i wasn't meant to feel more
more than butterflies
more than a rush
more than lust
i know i messed up
i know i got greedy
i know
and i'm sorry
sorry that i loved you
sorry that i felt beyond
beyond a small backseat
beyond your navy sheets
beyond late night meets
i'm sorry i felt more
more than you would match
i'm sorry

you think it’s fun i’m crazy
but you just don’t get it
i’ll drive myself insane before you
and i’m not always fun
sometimes i’m scary
but in a scared for me than of me way
scared i’ll burn my life down just to feel the warmth
and i’m scared you might get caught in it

maybe it's not that i want you in my life
maybe i just don't wanna let go of that part of my life
the part of my life where i let you come and go as you please
the part of my life where i let us pick up where we left off
where i let us ignore the fact that things are different and time has passed
but we don't really talk about those parts
we don't address the girls you tried it with between our stops and starts
we don't mention the bad things i've done with boys i shouldn't have
and even when i finally bring myself to say out loud that it did hurt and does hurt everytime you do this to me
i still let you hold me in your arms while i cry about you
i still try to make you laugh while crying about you
i still kiss you goodbye after crying about you

can you tell my mother loved the way I cried as a child?
can you tell my father loved how few and far between my words were?
can you tell i was loved for all the things i couldn't help?
that being loved felt like being mocked
when you look at who i am today
can you see the child i tried so desperately not to be?

i promise you’re not the only one upset
but despite how much i want to hold your hand
and how much i want to feel every bit of you pressed against me
i can’t help feeling like tearing away my skin
and clawing off your fingerprints from my bones
i just can’t bare to feel the weight of your touch
even the lightest lingers
and i’m scared your touch might never leave me
and i couldn’t handle being haunted
by someone walking around touching someone else

i hate you

i hate the way you smile to yourself like the world inside your head is constantly better than the world with me in it

i hate the way you tap along to silent beats as if your ears are flooded with better melodies than my voice

i hate the way you roam these halls as if you're looking to float away from me

i hate the way you fill your notebook with tales where you're the sole heroine as though i'm not here as well

i hate the way you make me wanna be selfish

making me want to busy your mind with me

making me want to be what you smile to yourself about

making me want to hold you down so you can't tap along to the beat of someone else's heart

making me want to hold your hand like an anchor because you can't leave just yet

making me want to write a world in which it's you and i against the odds

making me want to paint over your heart so no one else can find it

i hate loving you

because loving you is far too consuming

because loving you seems so single sided

because loving you means loving a ticking time-bomb
ticking away until you finally disappear
and you tell me it's not me you're looking to leave
but if that were true
you'd think you'd invite me to disappear as well


i hate that i love you

someone told me i behave passively
that i move with the flow
as though nothing can touch me
but it’s just how i behave
a crutch
coping mechanism
a funny little way to say i live inside myself
keep the turmoil in my head
feel the hurt inside myself
and behave passively

time and time again
i catch myself attracted to
good for nothing potheads
small time criminals
boys with daddy issues
(sometimes even mommy issues)
boys that don’t want to be better while i’m around
boys that want to dig themselves deeper
boys that’ll be better for a girl that matters
and i’m just not that girl

growing up ***** for many reasons
one that breaks my heart more and more everyday
is realizing my parents are not the monolithic people i've always seen them as
as a child it was easy to be hurt
to be mad at my mom for her mistakes
to be sad about my dad's short-comings
and then i grew to understand that their personal trauma and triumphs permeated every part of their parenting
and when i was younger it was easy to be hurt
now being hurt feels juvenile

i told you it was just that time of year again
and you asked me what i meant
as though you haven't been there that time of year
every year
and every year that time of year seems to get longer
and every year i seem more eager for it to come around
because this time of year is better
not good but the rest is worst
this is the time of year i set myself on fire
and see who burns out faster
me or everything i touch
me or the world
and every year i lose
but i'm getting better
i can make the game last longer
i learned how to fuel my own flames
and you've always known how to make me burn bright
maybe one year you'll be there to see me win