The Sweet Girl has lightly tan that it is almost pale skin, full, dark pink lips and light blue eyes.
Her voice is as gentle as the wind.
She is vivacious and kind. She has a dimple on right cheek when she smiles.
She is someone I work with.

I am referencing Sam Fender because his voice is awesome. I am a Warrior so that's a fact.
Call Me Lover because my heart is full of love and terms of endearment.
Call Me Lover because I will define my rebellions since my fiery spirit guides me to places I thought I'd never go.
Call Me Lover because I can be make governments fear my loose cannon techniques.
Call Me Lover because I care so much for my people even if they don't care about me.
Call Me Lover because we are heroes to those who can't love themselves.
I am a Warrior because it is vital to have fun when bored in this tiny, adorable town.
I am a Warrior because we love poetic justice even if it is naturally ironic.
I am a Warrior because I lived through many of other people's wars with themselves.

I push my issues your way you give a death glare and ask for my opinion on things.
I become the opposite of you and you think something is wrong with me.
I am someone you don't want to mess with. You ask for a war of wits, I will see how you can last with my iron clad stubbornness and everlasting defiance. I don't need to wear a mask to be vigilante, I have nothing to cover up. I am the Crazy Writer so I will bring an army with me and I won't hold back anything. My words are so sharp that you will bleed from a sentence. I wave my flag in honor to be a rebel.

You walked into youth group like you owned the place with your mother not far behind you. It was the 6th grade. I couldn't stop staring at you. You hung out with the gothic kids in middle school.
I hung out with the nerdy kids in middle school. On my birthday we slept over at your house in town. You chose me to be your best friend. You came from a rich family. I came from a poor family. You were an artist, I was a creative writer.
In the 7th grade you brought new friends who came from rich families to youth group. When they started bullying me, you fought for my honor and starting bringing your gothic friends to youth group. You the creative indie, goth girl and me the creative nerdy girl. We broke societal norms. I never doubted your instincts for one second. You moved away to Bloomington-Normal and you were excited. But you kept coming back for me. On my birthday we went to the Rockin' Lockin'. You brought a crowd and I adored every minute with you.
In the 8th grade you moved back to Ohio, you came back for me. You had your spark in your grayish-blue eyes. Girls wanted to be you and boys wanted to date you. Yet you chose me as your best friend.
In my freshman year of high school, church wasn't the same without you even youth group seemed empty without you. You were my missing piece. You came back before my birthday. You slept over at my place and went to the Rockin' Lockin' together as always. 5 days before my birthday I loss you, my best friend.

Love is Peculiar,
she is on my mind all the time.
Love is Peculiar,
she is in my dreams.
Love is Peculiar,
I am enraptured in her dark blue eyes.
Love is Peculiar,
My heart sings her name.
Love is Peculiar,
I crave her presence.
Love is Peculiar,
Every time I see her at work, she makes my day better.

Socializing, talking and communicating.
Notifying the bosses about my gig in the art walk.
It felt like being in Home E.C. again the kitchen meeting.
Just as exhausting as Home E.C. too.
Church is tomorrow and I am not mentally prepared.
I think my church will want to excommunicate me after I give my poetry reading because I am not holding anything back.
I am already seen as insane and unholy because I had *** with Chelsie. I can express myself however I want as long as it doesn't hurt anyone. Critiquing isn't same as saying outright that hey this church need more queers.

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.

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.

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.

Love is Madness.
It is felt in the depths of your soul.
Love is Madness, It is falling completely in love with someone worth the madness.
Love is Madness, To be insane I already know of Madness now I have to find the Love that I lost ages ago.
Love is Madness. It is losing your mind one moment and regaining yourself in their arms.
Love is Madness. It is being their one and only who truly knows them.
Love is Madness. I had Love that was Madness once. I am trying to get back to that not the idea of it.

See I got your attention. It's human nature to want peel away the fake and reveal the ugly. If "beauty is skin deep" for most people then what is the ugliness in the beautiful? Obviously from most science documentaries there is ***, drugs, peer pressure and low self esteem. In a way popularity is full of scandals. I never understood popularity from a nerd perspective. Normal is overrated and highly praised.
Normal is drunk nights, too many parties, getting high and who slept with who. It's dramatic and boring. Normal is seeking attention and validation from people you barely know. Normal is begging for information from people you want approval from. In a way it's a system that is emotionally, physically, mentally and psychologically abusive. There are people who suffer from *** addiction because of their "glory days" and don't know how to connect with people because that so-called popular life was their drug. Don't anyone get tired of following trends and huge crowds? Do those people ever form their own opinion or are they trapped in that system? There is more to life than popularity, *** and drugs. Don't you know narcissism blooms from that lifestyle? I don't claim superiority in my nerdy intelligence. I just feel sorry for popular girls who cut themselves because of awful rumors. No one should ever feel worthless if their beauty is deeper than just their skin. I always prayed for the popular girl who I wrote letters to. I saw how that life ate her up but she didn't back down. I admire people who gaze into darkness and choose light no matter how small of achievement by human standards it is.

Dark brown hair, and dark brown eyes.
Dark pink lips and pale skin.
She slept with me for one night, months ago.
She liked how timid I was at church for Saturday night service.
She was so focused that night. She was gentle with me.
I still see her at church. After that night she got a boyfriend and nowadays she is married to that guy.
As the church would have it she became a virtuous woman for her husband.
While I am just myself: a bisexual poet.

The art walk isn't here yet I still have 2 months until my debut performance of my poetry. According to one of the librarians I am a well known poetess in my town.
It's not my first time reading my poetry to a bunch of people. I read my poetry in the church while I was growing up. It is just my first time reading my poetry to the whole town at an art studio.
I already have most of it collected I have more poetry in my journals but I am pretty sure I don't need to read those.
Those are too personal for even me to read in public. My journals are sacred to me. I only read my past journals when I need to ground myself in reality. I have excerpts in my journals that I won't even share with my college because it's my property.
My private thoughts and life is my business not anyone else's. If I wanted people to know things about my life I will tell them the stories I keep to myself but I don't trust most people in this town. I let them talk gossip and rumors about me because I don't care what they think of me.

That which every human knows of fear, we, humans have the natural instinct to fear anything from the dark to love itself.
That which every human knows to fear love at some point in life, either from too many heartbreaks or a bad relationship that haunts your very being or both. Or simply the fear of being lonely, going from one relationship to the next without not knowing you truly are and what kind of person you want.
Or the fear of being alone, here is the thing there is a huge difference between being alone and being lonely. Being alone is a decision. Being lonely is a feeling that comes with depression. The fear of being alone is going one companion to the next because misery loves company. In a way I understand those fears because one of these fears are mine. Sometimes the only way to defeat fear is to make new friends or to stop going from relationship to relationship and figure yourself out.

Anyone else feel alone? Because I feel so distant from the life I was raised in. Maybe I was always distant from my church life I just didn't notice.
A World Alone from my church friends because I don't want to be a chasten woman.
A World Alone from my church friends because I have faith but I am openly bisexual.
A World Alone from my church friends because I already lost my virginity to a girl in college. It was a perfect night.
A World Alone from my church friends because even though I have an innocent girl act for them, at heart I am a rebel.
A World Alone from my church because I refuse to be ignorant.
A World Alone from my church friends because I prefer to marry a woman.

Lost people are simply people who want a tribe.
Broken hearted people want people who can fill that void.
Broken minded people want people who can understand them.
It is easy to know because I used to be a lost and lonely person a long time ago. I was a troubled, strange adorable kid who made friends fast and they were usually as weird as I was.
Finding broken people are easy to search for when you are one.
I won't tell their true stories I have a moral code when it comes to friends of old. My past is mine and no one can take that away from me. I can only tell my own stories from my perspective.

Warm sun and the snow is melting.
Still frigid but with a warmth that is homely.
Even though my hometown never really felt like home to me until now because I have a job where they don't mind that I am openly bisexual.
My hometown don't mind that I am openly bi. Yet my church and my mom minds because to them it's different and what is different needs to be silenced.
It's like outside, warm from the sun but cold from the snow.

When I Say that I have a misfit army that lead then I mean I can assemble them with a beacon of distress and they will be there no matter how long it takes them to be there. My warriors are not to be messed with they are witty, fun-loving and vengeful. Being well read and bullied to the point of wanting to prove everyone wrong does that to a person.
When I Say that I have a wild side I mean I have two different wild sides, one calm, cool and collected to predict everyone's actions and the other fierce, unbreakable and fearless to bring anyone to their weakness.
When I Say that I know how to love it's because my experiences that I can make anyone a mellow, warm hearted person with just a gaze and a conversation.
When I Say that I have met angels, demons and monsters I mean people are all those things it just depends what it behind their mask.
When I Say that I fought wars with myself I mean I have through hell and back so many times that I have lost count.

My Charm attracts Many but I trust Few because I felt lonely in the crowds.
My Charm attracts Many but I only talk to Few because with the Many I never seemed valued.
My Charm attracts Many but I only care about Few because I am tired of being a people pleaser.
My Charm attracts Many but I only think of those I love because I only make plans with those I trust.

I always hung out with the weird kids ever since kindergarten.
I was bullied because I didn't want to be popular. Anytime a popular kid wanted to put me into their ranks I got anxious and returned to my weird friends because my weird friends treated me as their equal.
The popular kids treated me like an outcast. I didn't understand what it was like to be cool. I grew up going to the doctor frequently because I was a special needs kid. I had speech problems, I was shy, I wasn't physically strong because I had a limp since my knees used to be sensitive. I grew physically stronger throughout the years because of my physical therapy, my speech teacher helped me stop slurring my words so I could articulate my words with lots of effort, my reading tutors throughout the years helped me become the avid reader that I am today and my counselors throughout the years helped become emotionally intelligent.
Being Weird is an Honor because no matter the stigma it's about quality not quantity.

Sure I have volunteered a lot in my life. That doesn't make me a hero.
Wanting rights for people who need them as an activist. That doesn't make me a hero.
Writing essays about controversial topics because I am passionate about them. That doesn't make me a hero.
I don't save lives because I am not a police officer, firefighter, doctor nor nurse. I don't wear a cape and the only ability that I have that makes me special is that notice things that most people don't.
I don't tell people the state of America, I am not a reporter yet.
I can't tell people how stupid they are because I am not a politician nor a TV show host.
I am not a hero just a rebel. You can call me an angel, a sweetheart, a vengeful millennial, a crazy writer, a scornful ex, a hopeless romantic and a cute nerd as much as you want I will still be me. I am not perfect because I don't pretend to be that. Perfect is overrated and overused term. I prefer sincere and endearing or dramatic and insane whichever one suits your perspective of me.

Chelsie wanted to pressure me into having video *** with her. Of course I refused because her older sister told me at the library that she didn't recognize any of them. As many naked pictures she sent of herself to me, I refused because I knew something wasn't right about her. There was church bells going off in my gut telling something was wrong with her. No matter how turned on I was I couldn't lose her.
I refused despite what I remembered of her.
I just did what I wanted someone to do for me if I went into psychosis again. Then again when I went into psychosis I read every book in my room and wrote gibberish from my audio hallucinations into my journals. I got lucky I guess. Good thing I used my calming methods from when I was eleven when I got panic attacks a lot.

In college I loved SGA, Writer's Guild and my gay friends.
Ken was determined to isolate me from everything and everyone I cared about. He thought if it was just him and I then I would care about him more. Or that I would randomly fall in love with him which never happened. He thought if I hated Chelsie then I would love him which didn't happened. My heart told me something was up but I didn't trust myself with all of Ken's mixed signals.
I was confused about him. I was thinking at the time, "If he tells me he loves me but still hurts my emotions without regard to my boundaries then he doesn't love me at all." Somehow I still stayed around. I want to go back to college. I miss SGA and Writer's Guild.
I still talk to my gay friends because they are amazing people.
I think without Ken I will actually be able to get my degree in the Associates in the Arts.

I know not to beg for human decency nor a love that isn't selfish.
Scientist Boy No. 2 may be my friend but he is the reason that I don't trust guys anymore. I should have forgotten him the moment he asked me to be his best friend. I didn't have to make that promise in high school. He always asked too much of me and I asked too little of him. It was a selfish promise on his part and a selfless commitment on my part. Yin and Yang isn't how I would describe the friendship. It's more me trying to tolerate his narcissistic personality disorder and less him allowing me to be myself. I keep friend-zoning him and he keeps begging for my hand in marriage. It's a toxic friendship I know that. I always outsmart him on wits yet he keeps placing guilt traps.
It's a never ending war. He never gives me a break. I shouldn't have to babysit a grown man.

I wouldn't change my past because it made me who I am.
I wouldn't change my past because I have grown wise and experienced from it.
I wouldn't change my past because as messy and complex as my life is I have lots of good memories as well as bad memories.
I wouldn't change my past because I don't want to be something I am not.

I accidently got my arm cut by the metal cutter of a saran wrap box when I was putting away dough buckets.
I got five stitches in my arm but I am okay. It hurts a lot since yesterday I couldn't feel my arm at all due to the numbing injection the doctor gave me. Feeling pain is okay it's just today I feel really tired as if all of energy got drained out of me no matter how much coffee I have. I am excited for my future scar but for right now I have to deal with the pain.

Darling don't go too far away for the luminous moon can't take away the love I have for you.
Darling for my abstract heart may be tattered and mended I can't stop thinking about you.
Darling for our eclipse is only a few seconds, they are precious moments to me.
Darling, keep gazing at me for I will always love you.

Yes, I have been to hell and back several times but I am Still Me.
Yes, I have had multiple emotional and mental meltdowns over the many years I have been alive but I am Still Me.
Yes, I have chosen my path of being tender hearted, passionate and relentless. I won't let the world destroy who I am for the sake of external sanity so **** the status quote! I am Still Me.
Yes, I have had awful days due to my anxiety and depression because caring too much and have my entire body ache in a dull agony don't mix well. There was one day in high school I took two ibuprofens instead of one to make forget my heartache from grieving over losing my best friend. It made me forget my heartache for a whole day but I don't remember the school day. I am Still Me.
Yes, people think I am weird for wanting to write instead of something practical. People many times have stared at me like I was crazy including my own family. I tend to stare back and smile as though their distress for my rebellious nature is my award. I am Still Me.
Yes, I have been called an enigma before by my older sister and weird by my peers, I take it as a compliment. I prove people wrong for a living. So take your boxes and stuff them up your *** because I will leave your head spinning. If you are judgmental about people then I hate you because I bet that stick in your *** covers all of the blood you taste in your mouth, being narrow minded doesn't make you better than anyone. I am Still Me.

Creative people comes in packs I know so because I am one of them. I have known so many musicians, writers, singers and painters within my lifetime. Ever since I was a kid Art has been my Lifestyle.
I was blessed with my talent and determination. I was blessed with a life where art became my home. Not my town.
I may make my songs, poems and novels in this town but I am not bound to stay here forever. I was never meant to stay here.
God wants me out of this town as much as I do I can feel it is true.
I just need a car and a driver's license. As well as a place to go to. I have plans to do more poetry readings. I mean a church friend of mine always invites me to go to poetry slams in the cities I would go but I don't have a car.
I mean I would have a panic attack on the way there but putting my works out there is worth it. I still need to call my college back so they can put my works into the paper. They could just interview me at the art walk. I don't mind. I know how important it is to have my works published. I always wanted some of my works published before I turn 25 years old. I mean being an artist in general is being fearless and expressing yourself.

I hope my life is interesting to all you readers.
I hope my experiences are worth thinking about.
I write these stories about my life because I needed to start somewhere. I couldn't keep them all to myself that sounds selfish of me. Especially to poets and readers like you. As an audience, I love poetically making these speeches. To the people I fell in love with, I hope it gave you my perspective. To the people I called out and roasted, I am not sorry for my rebellious writings.
My past is not up for debate and my future is what I own. My present well I am cherishing every moment of it. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

To touch her, to feel the soft skin.
To feel her warm lips against mine again.
As I see that smile of hers and I feel my heart swell.
As I gaze into her dark blue eyes, everything seems divine.

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.

I babysit this grown man who is a sexist, depressive, boring and unusually suicidal for a scientist.
He is a complete idiot who don't understand communication and social interaction. Hence why I am his only friend. He is a year older than me. But he is immature, human and sometimes vulnerable.
He doesn't wear a mask around me. I know he is a monster, he is obnoxious and annoying. He keeps telling me he loves me and cares about me but I don't feel it. I refuse to think that maybe he will get the hint that I won't date and marry him. Because I have gave him the benefit of the doubt too many times which I normally end up hurt and more heart-broken than before. I won't end up a victim to a narcissistic man. I guess it's awareness or maybe it's me giving up on him. I don't know which. I am just not sure whether I want to burn the bridge or not.

Very few people have seen it.
Very few people have experienced it.
It's my wild side or should I say the darker version of it. I am not all rainbows and sunshine. Sometimes I am holy fire and everlasting instincts. Scorching and fierce. Harmful by actions and ruthless by words. Something primal. Something relentless and is a raging beast inside of me. Sometimes as cold as ice and as calculated as a mongoose. It's like losing all control in your body and something else takes over. Rather someone else who has no rage in any other way I have experienced. Imagine you living your life and a rage, full of fire and ice was yanking at your chest but when it's free you are left with the damage that is caused. Everything bottled up is spilled out and there is the canvas created by someone else who happened to be you. It's beautiful, honest, terrifying, unnerving, messy and bizarrely all you. That's the best way I can describe it.

Now I wait for Christmas and the one.
I wonder if I am going to be single forever.
I wonder when I will love the one.
I wonder who the one is.

I have to choose between Chelsie and The Mystery Girl.
Two sisters alike in destiny and love.
Now I know how Hamilton felt with Eliza and Angelica.
I have a type. How do I choose between my first queer love and the girl I met a few months ago? I don't know what the right decision is.
Normally I let my heart decide and now even my heart is confused.

I can control how I react things. I can control my mental state in most cases. I don't fight when it comes to releasing my emotions.
Most of the time when I can't control I use calming methods like deep breathing techniques I learned from concert band.
I can control my thoughts and what to think about. It's like opening up being vulnerable is easy to me but trusting that an entirely different story. To trust someone I need to have known them for a long time. I can't just meet someone and automatically trust them, I used to do that but I ended up hurt far too many times by doing that.

My emotions show up on my face.
My mood swings are sharp and all consuming.
As the saying goes "I wear my Heart on my Sleeves".
Throughout the years I have learned to guide my mood swings to my benefit. To let the emotions flow through me and feel every ounce of them. Not stopping the emotions if it's one I don't want. Not pushing the emotion back into my heart. Just letting all of my emotions be valid, it's a peaceful and happy life to live. What I have learned is that I can't control anger and sadness. Those are the two most powerful emotions on the human spectrum. If you can't control it, feel it completely. Sure anger is a dangerous emotion but so is sadness. Guiding anger into passion to a healthy way to guide it.
Guiding sadness into happiness is a way to make the sad moments feel more valid. Having anxiety and depression ever since middle school it took awhile to guide my emotions the right way. In high school dealing with grief was like wanting to forget the tidal wave heading straight towards you but of you can't runaway from your emotions forever. I know so I have tried multiple times throughout my life. It helps no one including you. I find talking about these emotions to your closest friends who you trust helps a lot. Sure they aren't therapists but they are smart enough to know you fully. Understanding someone is the most intimate thing for we humans to do. Empathy is the ultimate intelligence. Sympathy is just surface level comfort. Empathy is walking two moons in their shoes and loving someone for what they are going through.

I have grown muscular, thin and stronger with every year.
I have out grown my old clothes: my hand-me-downs, my Christmas presents, my old band and cross country t-shirts.
My SGA polo still fits me. I haven't changed that much.
I just have more pounds on me and I am medicated.
I still eat healthy and walk around town.
I still have coffee every morning and I still read a lot.
I still write a lot and I still love music. I haven't changed that much.
I still got my endless quirks and a sense of humor. I am better than before just medicated.

Dark blue sky and icy wind blowing against the library.
Silence as the sky turns a deeper shade of blue.
Listening to music and thinking about the Sweet Girl's smile.
And how the night sky looks like her eyes.

A name as powerful as my own. The girl who stole my pride, broke my heart and took my virginity. She drove me mad and read all of my poetry from my journals and notebooks. I didn't mind. She had me at we how gazed at each other.
She wanted me for my charm, talent and heart. She used to sleep with me in my bed to comfort me on my worst nights. She made me the legend of my hometown. She did research on my past and loved me.
She was my muse. I forgive her, I just don't forget. She called a day ago. Telling me that I was never an ******* to her, that I was her best lover out of all of her girlfriends, that I should update my voicemail and that she hopes that I live a happy life with her older sister. Also that she misses me. I still miss her and I don't regret anything. I knew I recognized those blue eyes from somewhere its genic.
She is in a psychiatric hospital right now. I never knew how insecure she felt about her own voice until I heard her have a meltdown on my phone. I want to visit her but I don't know where she is. Deep down I know she is my best friend and I don't know maybe it the fact that made me feel wild without doing anything. She touched my heart so she is worth it. I know that I just hope she does too. She is still human. She is still my girl even with all that madness.

I can't be straight and I refuse to be a chasten woman.
I don't want a chaste marriage.
I want passionate love not a boring, white picket fence marriage.
That may have worked in the 1950s. But it is not the 1950s.
There is more to life than faith in Christ.
I can't be them so I am myself.
With all my sanity I refuse to be them. I refuse to be them because I used to be them. Ignorant and thinking all there was the church.
In the metaphorical closet I was insane, thinking I was trapped there forever. Then I found my people at college. I came out the closet and fully became me.

I used to carry such hatred for people way back when because I hated repressing my love for women.
I didn't realize the hate was eating me alive so when I met a queer person at youth group that hatred faded and I filled up with compassion.
I still didn't what queer was at the time but I had unconditional love for this queer person then I realized I am queer too when I was in high school, my senior year.
Then in college, one of my best friends told me what bisexuality is and I realized I am bisexual. Eventually I got over my internalized biphobia and the rest is history.

Gandhi once said, "Eye for an eye and the world goes blind." ,and someone once said, "War is what happens when language fails."
There are so many perspectives in the world. So many cultures.
Love is a feeling and an act of selflessness. Then Hatred is a burning rage and an act of one's intention.
The Line Between Love and Hatred is thin and almost invisible.
If "Love is blind" and "Hatred is evil" then whose fault is it?
The thing is no one really knows. Love is an understanding of heart and soul between two people. In break ups between couples, hatred blossoms.
In fall outs between friends, hatred gradually happens. There is a beginning and an end to everything. Marriage vows is for an endless love. Divorce is a dispute of hatred. Ask them both maybe you will get the right story. You can't have a story without two perspectives at least that what I learned from English classes on critical thinking from reading two different articles from two different sources.
I know life is hard, hell I have mental illnesses. My question to you is: Is your hatred worth destroying lives, friendships, relationships and spilling blood?

I grew up in the church and I enjoyed most of it.
I am just sick and tired of hiding in the closet around people who have known me, my whole life.
I know they won't support me in any way because of church politics and right now I am not ready to be kicked out of my church yet.
But when I am ready to for everyone to know who I am then I will face the music.

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.

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.

Those dark blue eyes and her laughter make my days at work better.
I like how she tells me stories about her life.
I like how she glances at me and smiles.
I like how I feel around her.
I like how I can tell her anything.

The Girl with Green Eyes is back in town. I expected her to be back in town sometime. It's just seeing her again makes me soft as if my heart warms inside my chest and I can't help myself by smiling like a dork.
Hugging her again reminds me of the good old days where we were the power duo of the church. We still are the power duo of best friends going on two different paths. She is still an idiot that sings like an angel and she is still beautiful to me. She is a good person and I know her heart as though it's my own. I don't hate her and I never hated her. It's just she is everything I am not. She blends into this small religious town, she is the poster girl of worship band, she is popular because everyone loves her and she is agreeable.
In this town we are a package deal you can't have one without the other. Sometimes I am envious of her because she is the picture perfect straight girl that makes me less lonely at church and I can't lose her. Not yet. She is just so predictable and I can't help myself by falling for her charm in a platonic way. She is my weakness maybe it's because she helped me overcome my stage fright, my fear of being second best and my fear of being abandoned. She never gives up on me and I believe in the good within her.
She apologized for being a **** to me last summer and I deleted the text because I was still angry at her. I forgive her now because I know she depends on me to be her hero when I am a rebel with trust issues. She is always there when I needed her and I am always there for her when she needs me. That's what best friends are for. Maybe it's because we have been best friends for 9 years and I know hurting her would feel good for 5 seconds but not worth losing her for a lifetime.

Long ago, the night you resurrected me.
I was dead for not that long.
You were pressing on my chest and using your breaths to bring me back. When I came back to life:
I kissed you and you kissed back.
You cuddled with me the rest of the night. Then left in the morning.