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.

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.

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?

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.