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Briana4545 Dec 2013
You can tell me
in remarkable detail
about how you ****** that guy
not once
  but twice
    in the handicap stall
      of the first floor bathroom.

I won't judge you
or think less of you
or even blink
as you tell me
how he finished all over your face
and you licked up
  every
    last
      drop.

No, I'll sit there quietly,
  listening intently,
    because, to be honest,
      it doesn't bother me.

But if you stare at me
with hungry eyes
or comment on how "****" I look
or even offer to please me
without any sort of reciprocation
because you just want to make me feel good,
I will tense up,
shut down,
  retreat into my metaphorical cave,
    and only reemerge
      when the coast is clear.

Yes, you can tell me
  all about your *** life,
    but I don't even want to think
      about mine.
Briana4545 Dec 2013
There are a lot of things I ought to feel guilty for,
but being happy isn't one of them.
So why is it that after four years of hating myself
I feel bad for having the slightest bit of self-esteem?
Maybe it's because the people I used to suffer with
are still suffering.
Things aren't getting any better for them,
and there is nothing I can do to fix it.
Or maybe it's because I did nothing to earn this bliss.
All I did was move to a new city,
surround myself with new people,
and turn into a brutally honest *****.
I never meant to become so cold.
I guess I was just sick of being told
that I was too ******* passive.
I hated being passive,
being nice to people who I secretly loathed,
being the girl with the bright hair but the dull personality.
Yes, I have changed,
but I have transformed into a person that I kind of like.
So why do I feel so guilty?
Briana4545 Nov 2013
I'm going "home" for Thanksgiving break.
But I honestly don't know
where the hell that is.
Home is not the small town
in East Jesus Nowhere
where I went to school,
or the quaint little neighborhood
where I fell off my bike
and never got back on.
It's not the white house with green shutters
that my parents bought when I was two,
where I have technally lived for the past sixteen years.
Yes, I grew up there,
but it's not home.
Not anymore.
I escaped that place three months ago
and found a new place to call "home."
But I suppose it's really hard to feel at home
in a place where you have to leave your flip-flops on to shower.
At this point,
I'm just trying to figure out what counts as "home"
and where I can find it.
I don't know if it's a place
or a person
or a feeling,
but whatever it is,
I crave it like a starving man craves food.

I guess you don't have to be poor
to be homeless.
Briana4545 Nov 2013
I think I led you on last night.
I didn't mean to, I swear,
but I was lonely
and drunk,
and the boy who got me drunk
took off in a hurry like always.
It started with a
"Hey, what are you up to?"
and turned into
me giving you an excerpt
from the sad, stupid story that is my life.
You listened carefully
and intently
as I poured another ******* piece of my heart out
to another ******* stranger.
When you walked me back to my dorm,
I said goodnight
and thanked you for keeping me company
and then quickly shut the door
because I knew that
you were hoping for more.
I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to lead you on.
But in my defense,
you should know better
than to fall for a girl
who gets drunk on a Tuesday night.
Briana4545 Nov 2013
They say it takes 21 days to break an addiction.
  So what happens when you give in
    after 116 days of not resorting to the blade?
Was it just a moment of weakness
  or the return of an old habit?
Will it happen again
  or was it just a lapse in good judgment
    and self-control?
Are you still an addict
  or just a coward?
Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to stop.
Briana4545 Oct 2013
I feel like I’m stuck in reverse.
I was making progress;
I really was.
But now I’m in the same place
I was a few months ago.
I have no motivation
To eat,
To do work,
To go out,
Or to even go to class.
People ask, “What’s wrong?”
And, of course, I say, “I’m fine.”
I have said those words so many ******* times,
But I’ve never actually meant them.
I’m stuck in reverse
When I really need to put this car into drive
And move forward with my life.

All I really want to do, though,
Is crash this ******* car
Once and for all.
Briana4545 Oct 2013
Don’t play the victim.
You took my virginity
on that chilly summer night
in our neighbor’s yard.
You were there,
completely sober,
coherent,
and I was there, too,
drunk on stolen wine
and barely able to walk
without assistance.
You told me
to lie down.
I obeyed.
You told me
to take off my clothes.
I obeyed.
Although my memory is hazy,
I know that
it happened.
Don’t tell your friends
that I made the whole thing up,
that I’m some attention-seeking *****
who’s obsessed with you.
Believe me,
if I wanted attention that badly,
I’d get it another way.
You’re a sick, twisted *******,
and, to be honest,
I pity you.
If you can only get it
from drunk girls,
you must not be that good.
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