Troubled souls have good hearts. The weirdest, the dark humored, the misfits, the idiots, the unfortunate even the rebels hide a good heart in layers of personality and characteristics.
I look for good hearts because magnetic vibes sometimes attract the selfish, the self absorbed, the fake and the try hards.
Growing up in a church I could pick out the fakes just by how they acted around my genuine weirdness and spotted the real by how they lived up to their promises.
I look for good hearts in strange groups because I find the wonderful, the funny, the genius, the calculator, the wounded and the selfless travel in the same packs.
I look for good hearts because my anxiety caused me to break my own heart with expectations so I lowered my expectations and stopped judging people entirely.
I look for good hearts because the good is rare and the bad is a dime a dozen.

"There is an infinity between 0 and 1" - The Fault in Our Stars
To say that people are complex and weird but to say that fate is what draws us together is another. To be weird and complex is to have simple standards of good and boundaries set. To have fate known is to believe that Universe actually cares.
"Pain it demands to be felt" - The Fault in Our Stars
I love realistic romances because love at first sight is crap and anyone who says otherwise is kicking themselves into submission.
Perfection is unrealistic. The white picket fence is unrealistic.
Finding true love is about trial and error. It's trust, compassion, unrelenting forgiveness, grace, mercy and kindness placed into a forever friendship. Sure I am melancholy about love because I know what kind of person I am looking for but haven't found my true love yet.

When you figure out that all those years of being friends is emotional abuse then those really good memories feel like betrayal.
When you know that your Christian best friend rebukes you for coming out as bisexual three years ago then you know she lied about how good she is.
When you know your atheist ex-boyfriend only says he can't live without you because he threatened to **** himself many times after several fights in the past as friends.
I have known him for 4 years and her for 9 years. Healing is messy I know. I know that I can't trust either of them because their expectations of me are polar opposites.
When you someone isn't good for you it hurts at first and the panic attacks keep happening from distancing yourself from all of the memories. Sometimes the things that are too good to be true is a lie and their masks fall off where all there is left is huge conflicting mixed emotions swirling in your gut.
When you know that they are monsters of their own making and you have nothing to do with it. The blame isn't on you it is on them for their treatment of you.

I am Changing the Key to my heart.
I require to not feel like I have been spiritually violated.
Every memory I go through of the Girl with Green Eyes and Scientist Boy No.2, I realized that I was emotionally abused both ways.
I trusted too easily. I loved them too much. I cared too much.
I gave them a friendship that they can never replace because I am too good for them. And they are too bad for me.
I am Changing the Key to my heart because I tore my walls down long ago because I thought that vulnerability was power.
I trust neither of them now. I don't know where to start with either of them I just know that I need to figure out a way to escape their expectations of me.

I am reading Two Different Books, one about schizophrenia and the other about bipolar disorder now that I am reaching the end of both books the advice sounds similar through different words.
I know that both give advice on how to always stick with the meds and therapy.
I know that both give advice on to keep insurance because mental health is expensive.
I know that both give advice on keeping notes about when to take meds and to write in a journal everyday.
Mental health is as important as physical health everyone should know that. If you don't then read a book about any mental illness you want in the nonfiction aisle because research is just as important as definitions. Knowing the meaning behind the words is just as important as knowing the symptoms.

He tells me that my *** is too tiny.
He tells me that my ***** are close to nothing.
He tells me that I should gain weight and become fat.
He tells me that I am too thin.
He tells me that he doesn't care about my figure but based on his comments and insults, he lies.

Having Both bipolar disorder and schizophrenia growing up was difficult.
My imagination was wild and I used to trust people easily.
I was competitive playing Pokemon on the DS light. I was a videogame addict and my childhood best friend was as obsessed as I was. Videogames were easy and life was hard.
I was a sensitive kid if I was yelled at I would cry, if I was angry I would cry, if I was really sad I would cry.
I didn't like being controlled by my overbearing mother so I rebelled every now and then. Sometimes I went stoic which didn't last long because my emotions used to control me. I could feel every emotion deeply because anger felt like wildfire, guilt felt like a weight on my chest, sadness felt like winter, joy felt like a day in spring, pain felt like a knife cutting through my heart and grief felt like I was stuck in darkness forever.
Having Both bipolar disorder and schizophrenia meant I kept my most trusted friends distant from me when I went manic, depressed or angry because I thought I was protecting them from me.
I thought since I was so scared of them seeing me crazy they would abandon me for having mood swings, for being empathetic, for seeing the good in people and for caring too much.
I was wrong in the best way my most trusted friends still love me even though I am medically insane because they are geniuses and to be genius you have be insane in some way.

Maybe I am drawn to challenging circumstances because adversity is how my mother raised me.
Maybe I am magnetic to bringing some form of pain into my life whether it's by my own mind or my childhood of mother controlling my decisions or convincing myself that the Girl with Green Eyes was a good friend until I figured out she wasn't or my ex-boyfriend emotionally abusing me.
Maybe it is this way because I allow it or I simply am so used to adversity that I don't know what to do without it.

Growing up in my church I had to learn politics from the older kids.
Growing up in my church I hid my anxiousness and depression.
Growing up in my church no one got literature references because their parents forbade fantasy books from their kids at home.
Growing up in my church when I talked about the social commentary of my favorite tv shows no one understood me.
Growing up in my church when I studied Greek and Roman myths no one knew what culture I was talking about.
Growing up in my church only the older kids thought I was cool.
Growing up in my church no one told me about queer theory or gay culture I had to learn that for myself.
Growing up in my church no matter how smart I was, got praise from church moms for reading big fiction books yet I always felt lonely because my church friends only cared about my spirituality.
Growing up in my church being aggressively ignorant to why different people live their lives away from Christianity made me wish I could educate them on compassion and living a non-judgemental life.

Every time I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes it was justified by the fact that she never paid attention.
Every time that I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes she would pray for me not understand me.
Every time I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes she would say that my cussing was ungodly.
Every time I would call out her selfishness she would forgive my rage.
Every time I would notice her avoiding people I would follow her to see if she was okay, of course she would never tell me how she really felt.
Anger is not my problem it's how she treated me that made me sense the distance between us.

Long ago I had panic attacks every fall and spring.
Long ago my depression would act up during winter and summer.
Long ago I thought I only had anxiety and depression because it's most common in middle schoolers.
Long ago I thought my manic episodes and my panic attacks coexisted together because I was the broken hearted writer who nobody could fix.
Long ago I thought during college I only ever got depressed because my academics were getting more difficult for me.
Long ago I thought during high school that my closest friends called me weird, crazy, silly and smart because of my anxiety got me into awkward conversations with my church friends because only my creative, genius friends could understand my nonsense.
Long ago for every cross country meet I would get nervous.
Long ago I didn't know that I have bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.
Long ago I didn't need to be fixed because I needed to be medicated for my mental illnesses.

I learned most things quickly now that I have a job.
The simple things are easy to earn when the person you are friends with mutually cares for and loves you.
Not through manipulation. Not through co-dependency.
Not through personal gain. Not through allowing rumors to spread.
Not through letting yourself be vulnerable while the other person reveals nothing at all. Not through them guilting you to trust them.
Not through believing their ******* thinking they are better than anyone. Because friendship and love in general is a selfless thing which worth everything that it costs when you aren't being taken advantage of by people who can't humble themselves to the point of mutual respect and equality of effort.
Because friendship and love in general requires both people understanding nonsense of life by which the small things are the big things. Because friendship and love in general isn't about selfishly taking the feelings of love as an illusion since love itself is a reality of becoming greater for the good of the friendship.
Maybe I am not mad for wanting simple things and becoming mature at a young age.
Maybe I am just better at seeing through people's masks because I know what real friendship is.

My work best friend is someone I felt like I have known her my whole life even though we became friends several months ago.
I always felt like I had prove my existence as something special to the Girl with Green Eyes even though we have been friends for 9 years.
Time is something strange because one person can make everything seem business like while the other can make everything seem like the joining of a family.
My ex boyfriend always compared me to his ex girlfriend which I knew wasn't fair to my personality.
One day when I find myself a girlfriend I know that I will never compare any of my exes to her.
Time is something strange because the past doesn't always measure up to the present. I know now that I am older that abusive people make everything too good to seem true while good people make everything seem natural and worth keeping.
Only time will tell when someone is actually good or someone is pretending to be good.

To have a boss that can't stand someone that wants to help a best friend at work seems unreasonable. I work on cashiering and doing kitchen help. I work with men each night but my work best friend is a woman. I have every right to help up there as much as I help back there. I am not the only one who can do dishes. I am not the only one who can help cashiers when they need it.
I guess it's a rite of passage to have a **** boss though I could say worst but I won't. He thinks his actions are justified even they based off his mood. I am the only night shift kitchen worker that is a woman. I have every right to do both because I signed up for both.
I didn't sign for his attitude or his being chums with other guys.
It's human nature but clearly he doesn't study it because he is a kitchen manager.

Would if the world is only cruel because good people are hard to find. Would if the passage of time is only traumatic because scars are supposed to be a good thing.
Would if the luck of someone depends on their deeds. Would if the evil in the world is annoyed by what is left of the good.
Because "nice guy or girl" isn't always good. "Nice" isn't even a measuring point for humanity. "Nice" is what you say when someone do something fierce. Would if the good of humanity is in rarity because the bad can be so tempting.
The World itself is Sometimes Tilted. Society is flawed and the systems in place mostly benefit men. The patriarchy is a demonic system. When will the next revolution start?

I try to defend myself for the obsolete rules my boss makes.
He always threatens me when he feels powerless.
He never listens. He never asks anyone if his view of events are right.
He assumes that I don't care. He assumes that he can do whatever he wants without consequences.
His ideology is flawed in many ways.

Psychological traumas, mental illnesses and emotional scars make a Mosaic of the mind.
Sometimes it's beautiful. Sometimes it's dark. Sometimes it's messy colors appearing on CT scan alerting the doctors that something beyond physical is happening.
It takes doctors of the mind for the unexplainable to be figured out.
It takes a lot of tests for them to find out.
Some Mosaics require special eyes to be appreciated.

I read in a textbook that 3 out 4 people with mental illness commit suicide. I have only attempted suicide once in my life a long time ago.
I know what true hopelessness feels like and it's the worst thing to ever feel. It's as though every cell in your body is turning against until your mind tells you to give up because you are in so much agony.
What are we to live in a hopeless and cruel world?
What are we to defy statistics?
What are we to become so resistant to despair that getting out of bed is a triumph?
What are we to be warriors rising from the grief and hopelessness?
What are we to be so mentally and emotionally indestructible to our own darkness?
What are we to mature from pain?
Are we angels or demons? Depends on the person. The true test of character is the how and why.
Are we inhuman? Depends on if you turned into a monster or not because certainly the test took away something childish from you.
Change is becoming so beyond your own standards that you are someone new.

I have anxiety, depression, bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.
I am medicated and I have good doctors taking care of me.
There is No Cure, Just Mindset.
I used to be consumed by anxious and depressive thoughts to the point I was hurting myself with my own expectations of people.
People looked at how weird I was and abandoned me after a brief season of friendship.
They turned out to be popular, normal people who forgot about our brief season of friendship. Because people like that will never understand people like me.
My mindset is too set in psychology, sociology and philosophy for normal people to understand a word I say.
Sometimes it is nonsense to them and wisdom to me.
I grew to know many things either from experience or books.
I am not normal and I never will be normal.
Normal is an overrated expectation that society puts on children of the past, the present and the future.

Fall and Winter is my bipolar seasons.
Spring and Summer is my schizophrenic seasons.
Considering Summer is about to end and Fall is about to begin.
I am ready for the paradigm shift. I am medicated and I have a support system.
I hope I don't relapse. The last time I went bipolar I went catatonic to the point that it scared my dad and mom. The doctors said it was an isolated incident but I am afraid of the chances of it happening again.
It's not that my schizophrenia gets less it is just I notice that my mood swings get more rapid during Fall and Winter.
It's not that my bipolar disorder gets less it is just I notice I am more hyperactive during Spring and Summer.
Much like the Eclipse my mental illnesses interact with each other as though they are the Sun and the Moon.

I know that I will never be straight because I am bisexual.
I know that I will never be the perfect Christian because I am a liberal and the church brainwashed me long enough that I have my own thoughts now.
I am okay with the fact that I know what everyone thinks of me because I am a writer.
I am okay with the fact that my Christian friends will never accept me because I am bisexual.
I am okay with the fact that my bad memories will haunt me but I don't give them power over me anymore.
I am okay with the fact that one day when I come out completely on Facebook my church friends will hate me but they won't matter.
I am okay with the fact that one day I won't be living in my small religious Conservative town anymore because my past isn't me.
I am okay with the fact that one day my novels, short stories and poetry will be published where my name will known.
Ideally not everything will be perfect but I will be free.

As you can see he affects me every now and then.
It's my story not his.
He is the abuser and I am the victim.
He knows he is a monster and I want him to live in his guilt.
I shouldn't write about him so much but those things had to be said.
I didn't want to feel alone anymore.
Information among poets and readers is sacred.
He may be my friend but he deserves to have his secrets somewhere so I chose here.
We dated for a week, 3 years ago.
It's my story not his.
In a way this is justice.

He says that I am not bisexual enough because I haven't slept with a single gender.
He doesn't understand how demeaning he is.
He says that *** define sexuality even though he don't know how wrong he is.
He doesn't understand how draining he is.
He says that my little sister is hot and that she probably have lots of *** with the way she looks.
He doesn't understand that his sexist comments makes me feel like ****.
He says that no girl would want me because I am crazy.
He doesn't understand that I listen to him even though I shouldn't.
He doesn't know what he is saying because he doesn't do research on the things that I know about.
I know he is just emotionally and mentally abusing me yet the things he says still hurt me.

I change the game so he can be confused.
I have mental strategies that make him vulnerable like compassion, empathy, loving and caring about him.
I have emotional strength that makes him feel as though I am complex when my needs are simple.
Friendship is basically good communication and socializing which are my thing. He doesn't even know how to have a good, deep conversation with a stranger.
When I am Unapologetically Myself, he have free will because it's in my instincts to be a good friend.

When I say Goodnight to him I want to say goodbye and leave me alone.
When I say Goodnight he wants me to stay up late until I can't function.
When I say Goodnight he don't understand that I don't want to see him until I am 100% mentally me again because he is so draining.
When I say Goodnight he sometimes makes me so angry that it scares him and I smile to myself having some form of resistance to his narcissistic charms.
When I say Goodnight he sometimes depresses me with his past sob stories knowing he wouldn't lie to me unless he have something to hide.
When I say Goodnight he overshares how hot other girls are compared to me because he thinks I will be insecure about him admiring other girls when I shrug off his insults like a heavy backpack.
When I say Goodnight I know his gaslighting and lies don't affect me because I am mentally stronger than his ego.

My ex-boyfriend thinks that I am the only person who can make him feel happy. He doesn't give anyone at his work a chance because he hates everyone he meets.
He thinks because I follow my parents rules that I am too much of an angel. He let me pick the places to hangout at. He means well and my parents don't know that he is emotionally abusive. My siblings like him. They just think he is a sweet guy.
I haven't told anyone because my family likes him since he is my friend.
I haven't told anyone because I don't know how to break the news to them.

There were poets long before Edgar Allen Poe.
But he saw the darkness and wrote about it.
He coined the phrase, "I gazed into the abyss and the abyss gazed back into me". He was historically mentally ill.
He ended up one of the greats. He wrote a story about a man talking to a bird. He wrote a story about the a man with a freaky eye and another man murdering that guy.
He was inspired by the darkness of the world and became known as mad.

I refuse to be a bully, a person who uses people for personal gain, a person who twists stories for glory and a person who thinks of only themselves.
I don't want to be any of that because I have met people like that and they are lonely.
Bullies are wounded people who hurt other people for fun since they won't talk to a therapist.
A person who uses people for personal gain are evil because they will throw you out of their life the moment they feel you aren't worthy of them.
A person who twists stories for glory is someone asking for the devil to whack them with a broom.
A person who thinks of only themselves won't get very far in life since those who do that can look in the mirror they aren't all that great.

To Be a victim of emotional and mental abuse it's as if there is nothing to stop the incoming demands of caring about someone you shouldn't.
To Be insane is to question your actions on the concept of good and evil.
To Be a nerd is to bullied until you breakdown in front of everyone in tears.
To Be brave is to do reckless things to test fear itself.
To Be alone is to be surrounded by people and wanting to leave the social event.
To Be a writer is think about every impossible situation and ask your friends if you are right.
To Be a singer is to be impress people you barely know and act as though it's natural for your voice to slip an octave lower than intended.
To Be fierce is to say what you want in hopes that those are the right words.
To Be an intellectual is to know that there is always more to learn.

Most days my ex-boyfriend is like a Revolving Door.
He makes my mind spin in circles until I feel like throwing up.
He is the most straight guy I have ever met. I mean that in the worst way possible. I have nothing against straight men. My ex-boyfriend talks about *** as if any girl can stand him for his sexist behavior.
Girls turn him down left and right. I think that is his punishment for his behavior. He thinks of me as his last resort when girls turn him down. I find it to be degrading to have him think that no one can ever love me which is not true. I may be insane but I am worth loving.

When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend we fight which is very often.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he gets angry he shuts me out and I give him the silent treatment.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he acts like he is the victim.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he begs for me to love him more than a friend but I don't.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he thinks my boundaries are my standards.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he thinks that I will allow him to insult me personally when he feels threatened by my intellect.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend he wants to kiss me but I push him away.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend I wish I could break off the friendship and quit him forever.
When I outsmart my ex-boyfriend I wish I never met him.

As most abusers like to put their victims in the honeymoon phase.
Then the sweet guy that you meet becomes a monster come night time.
He doesn't consider your mental health and he doesn't consider your emotional health. It's always him, him but never you, you.
He needs you to be an enabler of his gaslighting abilities.
He needs you to be anxious about his anger.
Always being scared of the monster behind the nice guy mask.
He doesn't care about how many times you say no to his marriage proposals or how many times you shrug off his affections knowing they aren't real.
He wants you to have no boundaries but you establish them anyways hoping to be secure in enforcing them. He still wants all of your attention while ******* up to your better angels.
He doesn't understand that when you can't trust someone there is nothing to build off of except the trauma he gives.
He doesn't understand that he don't know the act of love because of his selfishness. He only understands that if the spotlight is on him then better make a good show.

Being raised in a church since I was 7 years old and living in a religious small town no one ever told me about bisexuality, gays and lesbians. I knew they existed and I knew my mom was disgusted by them.
I became close friends with bisexual girls and a gay guy in college that's where I learned who I was then I did research on it. I learned the Bible passages that were against homosexuality were out of context and being gay actually isn't illegal.
Though my mom is still against anyone that isn't straight and my Christian friends still don't know that I am bisexual because I am not ready to be public about my sexuality yet.
My church is still Ignorant of people who are different from them.
There is nothing demonic about the lgbtq community. They are just weird, kind and compassionate people who accept that they can't change their sexuality.
My church's Ignorance of the Unknown is why I don't agree with their patronizing ways.

Most people are like glass, transparent and fragile.
Glass is of many colors and designs like people.
As though the secrets behind the glass are just plays compared to the pictures on display.
Secrets are the poison of the world. Anyone can make them. Anyone can hurt anybody. I see right through them and observe their behaviors. I discern the characteristics and know the problems that surround them.
Looking through Glass if you know what to look for.

Being called weird is an honor and a compliment.
I have been crazy and delusional before which I find to be part of my mental illnesses. Being bipolar and schizophrenic isn't an easy thing.
It's confusing. It's being overemotional and emotionless at the same time. It's being split into two personalities. It's being the empathetic friend and the stand offish alpha female of a group.
It's being analytical and warm while being close off and not trusting anyone. It's being thoughtful and not caring at all.
It's drowning in feelings and living in drought of feeling in the same day.

Only a handful of people know that I am a demiromantic bisexual.
Imagine having crowds of people are only friends with you because you are religious and straight. Then imagine only having a small group of people knowing the real you. That's my life.
It's complicated and I don't trust a majority of people in my life.
I was raised in a church and with my rebellious soul, a curious mind so naturally I read anything with facts. I became a well read nerd and made friends quickly no matter their background.
I could get the truth out of anyone because my presence makes people feel safe and I am a good person.

When I loss my best friend at 15 years old, 6 months later I attempted suicide. I felt as though no one else could fix me or even fill the spiritual hole in my heart.
As if no one could understand the pain I felt.
As if the aching grief pounding at my heart was going to swallow me whole.
My family members were asleep and I had a pocket knife out.
I kept staring at my wrist but I couldn't do it.
It was like my best friend held my wrist and I thought about all of the good people in my life. So I placed the pocket knife away and turned out my bedroom lights. Then I cried myself asleep.

What if hate is just an emotion cloaked by insecurities and love is naked in truths?
People are afraid of truths and manipulate the stage for attention for their lies.
Anxiety is guessing the future by predicting the emotions by a script written in fear of abandonment.
Depression is not caring and living in true hopelessness as if it's the only despair that matters.
Having both is contradicting yourself to the point that people around you get confused.
What if being unapologetically about who you are is the only way to live without fear and hopelessness?

Blues and greens
Lighting appearing
The small town surrounded by gray clouds
No cars on the roads
Everything is louder in the Thunderstorms

Pitter patter
The Rain hits the road
roarrr
The Thunder rolls in the sky

Jesus commands his disciples to be servants of this world.
Most Christians forget to be servants.
To be a Servant you have to be humble and observant.
Needs and wants don't just appear on doorsteps.
You have to seek out different crowds and be the good influence without becoming your past self.
Marble staircases and gold crowns isn't where the brokenhearted are.
Broken minded sure. Gilded secrets are a thing.
Materialistic life won't lead to happiness. It's just part of capitalism.

The fake conversations, the empty knocking on the chest, people trying to get surface chit chat out of the way and awkward pauses waiting to leave.
The ticking of a clock as someone talks about their true love as if it's going to last forever. They talk about what their lover does not their lover's characteristics. They talk about where their lover got the ring from not their lover's devotion to them as if it's by human connection.
People forget that most married straight couples are in empath/narcissist relationships, toxic, abusive and controlling relationships. Hallmark paints the typical Christian romance no matter how recycled the cliche' relationship is in an ever changing culture. The swallow your feelings and look happy culture of Christianity with the patronizing lectures about being virtuous and godly individuals when the mold is framed with sins.
The church is full of gossipers, narrow minded, conservatives and the invisible hierarchy of Christian people.

Being Pure of heart doesn't mean you can't have ****** desires and aren't void of ****** love. Eros can rule even the most innocent of souls.
Being Pure of heart doesn't mean you can't have romance and marriage that spans ages. Aphrodite can influence the most restraint of minds.
Being Pure of heart doesn't you can't appreciate beauty. Zeus can lie in the most bizarre of ways.
Being Pure of heart doesn't mean any human experiences or desires are less than it just mean whatever perspective or mindset they have are simply there in a way that is complex.

To be mad you have to understand Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language, normal people can't understand.
To be crazy have to understand the hows and whys of Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language, the sane can't understand.
To be gifted you have to understand Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language that few understand.
To be troubled you have to understand Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language, comforted people can't understand.
To be intelligent you have to understand Nonsense.
Nonsense is a language, the illiterate can't understand.

I didn't expect to lose my best friend at age 15.
I didn't expect to find close friends so quickly after that.
I didn't expect a popular choir girl to notice me and a genius pastor's daughter to accept me to her ranks.
I didn't expect being a bookish nerd to be so much fun with like minded friends.
I didn't expect fellow writers to be like me and they are.
I didn't expect fellow musicians to let me geek out over the history of instruments.
I didn't expect knowing tons of book and movie references to start many good conversations.
I didn't expect the people I sang with in praise band to be homophobic.
I didn't expect the popular choir girl to fade into the background of my life because of respective differences.
I didn't expect the genius pastor's daughter to be my closest friend.
I didn't expect many things yet I am grateful for my life.

One Green Light is actually being understood and mutual virtues.
It's having the strangest conversations and laughing at the stupid parts. It's being included in plans with close friends and everyone having fun together. It's being spontaneous and letting the unexpected good moments happen. It's being vulnerable and them hugging you as if telling you they hear you.
Two Green Lights is losing your mind and them being concerned about you. It's hanging out with each other because the relationship is worth having. It's talking through the day or the night because the concept of time doesn't matter. It's having the hard talks and letting each other making jokes afterward since life is too short.

One Red Flag to look for is someone who draws you into a friendship with a hidden agenda that you don't figure out until it's too late.
It's slowly drowning in their mindset. It's telling them secrets at midnight. It's them taking away your uniqueness. It's holding your tongue when you want to question everything.
Two Red Flags to look for is someone who makes you feel seen but not listened to. It's explain yourself repeatedly. It's gazing into their eyes and thinking that they care about you when your chest warms up. It's having the thrills of good feelings and thinking they are a good friend when it's not equal efforts. It's begging for attention when you shouldn't.
Three Red Flags to look for is someone makes you play mind games.
It's showing them how devoted you are to the friendship and them dismissing it as a thoughtful gift. It's coming out to them and them rejecting you. It's them not understanding any of your thoughts and having your heart sink.
Four Red Flags to look for is someone who put up walls between you and them until there is nothing left to hold the friendship together.

The men I work with at the gas station in my small town respect me and treat me as their equal. But the new kid questions my ability to work there. He is the Boy with an Innocent Heart.
He spreads rumors about me, insults anyone who tries to help him, gets into arguments with the kitchen manager and begs for more responsibilities from the store manager.
He thinks he is going to recognized for his cutting corners attitude but he doesn't. He is childish, lonely, unimpressive, a ****** canoe, problematic, spoiled and a selfish *****.
I work just as hard as any of the men I work with. He is worst than the Lazy Man.

I met him at Coffee Boy's coffee shop. He is an old guy who is married. He asks every girl my age if they have a boyfriend which I find rude because he assumes every girl is straight.
He visits me at work each night which sometimes creeps me out.
He is four times my age yet is fascinated by strong opinions.
He reads my poetry as if I am his grandchild which I am not.
Everyone in town loves him yet he is obsessed about me.
I have a social life too I just want him to respect that.

I go to his studio and gallery. He creates all types of art.
He teaches people how to make art of their own.
He is an old, kind man who creates connections with other local artists in the Midwest. He is a friend of mine.
He is surrounded by other people's art and his own.
He wears rectangle glasses and have white hair marking his age.
He is going to let me read my handwritten poems at his studio in the winter.