hello friend,

i haven't seen you in a while and i was wondering how you were?
do you still think about me the way i think about you?
hopefully i'll see you soon old friend.

love.

it's different for a girl.
the first time I had ***, i was drunk and he didn't love me, but everyone else was doing it, so i did it too.
i don't remember everything, but i remember how quiet it was all around us and how small i felt.
he didn't kiss me at all and we didn't really look at each other and when it was over he kissed me on the forehead and left me alone to walk home.
i felt excited at first, like i was finally an adult. i expected to wake up the next morning with all the answers, and that i'd look like a different person.

i didn't look any different, and the only thing i felt, was sore.

the emptiness set in, and the exhilaration rotted into shame.
i wasn't in love, i didn't remember it that well and i knew i hadn't been ready.

although, i'll never admit that to anyone.

it's different for a girl.

sometimes i wonder if there will ever be a day where i can eat a slice of cake and not want to die after.

i always have this fleeting feeling deep down, it comes in quiet hours, when i should be sleeping. i’m supposed to be somewhere else than where i am, i just don’t know the name of that place or why the universe wants me there so bad. it’s like i’m constantly running late for the bus or that i’ve been invited to a party but i get none of the details. it’s this nameless phantom that haunts me and pulls me deeper, but i’ll never have a mean of escape. when will i be free of this feeling?

it's nighttime and i am laying back in bed.

my pillows are cotton and they rub against my neck as i try to get comfortable. i never really do. i play with the loose thread of my comforter, and wrap it around my finger until the tip turns purple, i wonder for a moment, what would happen if i let the feeling spread until the top of my pointer is useless? suddenly, i hear your favorite song play in my head. it is soft. soft and rolling and it gives me the same feeling as my thread wrapped finger. i feel weightless and useless just like the crimson, shaded pad of my pointer. your song grows louder while everything else grows more quiet. i didn't know it was possible for this amount of silence to exist, it felt as if my skull grew transparent and all my thoughts began floating around the room like tiny lulling clouds. your song is drifting into the ceiling, i hope it floats through and up and up all the way to the moon. then it will settle there amongst the rubble and it will play it's rolling melody for all the stars. maybe they'll all fall asleep and it will be completely dark and completely quiet. the song just grows louder instead, so loud it begins to ring in my ears like a symphony of tiny, little bells. it rises and rises and i wrap the thread tighter and tighter and i squeeze my eyes closed and i beg. i beg for the song to stop, but it just grows louder. the bells reach their crescendo and it's then that i realize that the thread was not wrapped around my finger but my heart, and i was painfully, irrefutably, regrettably in love.

the song finally stopped.

i've listened to your dial tone
over and over again,
so much so,
that it's starting to sound
like i love you

one time we sat in the car for six hours and went back and forth playing our favorite songs and told eachother things that would be shameful to say to anyone else. i liked talking to you and looking you in the eyes because they were dark brown, almost black, and i could see myself in the reflection of them every time i looked. i think you developed a nicotine habit that night, i think that was the only development either of us made. the windows fogged up and i started sweating but i didn’t tell you to turn the heat down because you liked it warm and i would do anything for you. you told me i broke your heart three times but i told you that you broke mine hundreds of times so i win, but the truth was, that wasn’t much of a victory at all. you asked what it would be like if we dated. if we broke up. if we ******. if we never saw eachother again. if we fell in love. i said all of that would be easy for us and you agreed. that one time i loved you. i loved you with your tired eyes and unwashed hair and same outfit worn three days straight. i loved you for six hours and you loved me. but not actually. you dropped me off at midnight. you got back together with your girlfriend by eight at night the next day.

i told you i loved you
and you told me you loved her more
and i got up and knocked over
a pile of solo cups
and went into the shed
in that random backyard
and cried so hard i couldn't breathe
and you didn't leave the party
so i got wasted and high
and i pretended like you didn't exist
and left every twenty minutes
to cry in that ******* shed
and gone was the boy who would answer my calls at two in the morning,
and along went the
dreams of being an astronaut
and feeling like the sun was close enough to melt the ice settled on my skin
because you were my sun
and i got too close
and i got burned

we used to sit in my basement
and listen to the wild youth,
while smoking cigarettes
i stole from my mom
we talked about dying our hair
and moving in together after college
and ******* girls
and making breakfast
and our dreams
and you were my best friend
and now you're just a
person in a story i love to tell

you blocked my number,
so i deleted yours, and by deleted,
i meant that i copied it onto a sticky note and stuck it behind my bed,
because i know one day i'll call you,
you won't answer,
but i'll still call.

i sit on my porch
after stumbling home
from nights of drinking
and smoking and nameless
faces all contributing to the
reckless reputation of today's
teens. it's cold, i'm cold,
everything is humming and  
buzzing and now i'm cold and
scared. my fingers are twitching
and i can feel the bubbling in
my stomach, i'm anxious to call
you because you're warm and
that's all i want right now.
you are the boy i tell about
my fascination with clouds
and my dream of being an
astronaut if i was smart enough,
and then you say i am smart enough.
i pretend not to hear it.
you are the boy who laughs
when i stumble over my
words and waits patiently
while i ramble on about what
i see while walking home.
you are the only boy i've cried
both to and about.
and while i hiccup and tell
you how sorry i am to wake
you up at one in the morning,
you just "it's fine, i was awake anyway."
we both know you weren't.
and when i hang up and
stare out at the ocean,
all the cold has melted away
and i don't feel so small anymore.
you.
my warmth.
my own personal sun.

he doesn't go on dates, he ***** girls and gets high.
all you are is a way to spend his saturdays.

i have waited three long years to kiss you,
and now that i have,
i'm disappointed to say,
it wasn't even that good.

i loved you in my dreams
and i'll love you when they're over