i think maybe i only love you because
you're older, because you have large hands
that have held more than mine ever will

(or maybe it is because instead of choosing to
hold the world, you chose to hold me)

will you walk with me?
around the moon and beyond the stars
up and up
until our brains feel light and our lips turn blue

When we look over our shoulders
we notice the insignificance of things that are truly insignificant

the dog the car the microwave oven
that set of keys I lost and still can't find
the movie that comes out this weekend that you can't wait to see
my English degree
the lawn that we accidentally forgot to mow for four straight weeks
my mother
your mother
the way you take your coffee with milk and sugar
the list of unwatched romantic comedies on our Netflix que
the advice I get from Suze Orman
the indent your body made in my double bed
our leaky roof
your Dean's List grades and above average MCAT score
our set of home decor from IKEA that we assembled ourselves
Frank Zappa's Tinseltown Rebellion
that trip we always wanted to go on but never had the time to plan      
Our aspirations that we neatly folded up tucked away and pretended to forget.

Even you.

Even you. Even you don't affect the way the world turns.

No matter how hard we stomp or yell
or scream
or push or pull
or heave

We can't stop the world.
Not even for a second.

Apathetically
Beautifully Callous
Distant
Elegy Frees Gradual Hesitation
Insecurity Justifiably Killing Love
Momentum Nullifying Optimistic Peacefulness
Quietly Relinquishing Shared Togetherness
Unhappiness Virtually Wills
Xeroxing Yourself Zymotically

© Christopher Chronister. All rights reserved

They said I needed to start
caring about myself and
not care about others.

I care about myself.
I'm better than ever.
I'm not happy...
but I'm not sad.
Why do they care anyways?

Yes, I do try and take care of others.
But, that's just who I am.
I love being the one who brings someone
else's spirit up.

But, apparently it is only making me worse?

Take away my phone,
Take away my life,
Take away anything.

To be honest, they are things I
can live without.
Yeah, they make life easier,
but, I am focused on getting the
**** away from y'all to be submerged in
my social life anyways.

So, dear parents, punish me and tell me that
I need to stop caring for others.
I've already gotten caring for y'all off the list,
who wants to be next?

There are so many things I want to know
And most of the time my unanswerable questions awaken themselves early in the morning
Like a young child vying for attention way past his bed time
Or asking around like he’s gotten lost in Ikea
“Have you seen my mum?”
“Why am I still suicidal?”
“Why doesn’t he love me back?”
“How the **** do you put this chair together?”
It will never be strong enough to hold what’s in my head.
No offence to the shop - it’s not their fault I’m unstable.
I keep wondering whether this is normal,
This constant existential crisis I suffer from
I ask the doctor,
My therapist,
My best friend,
The boy who invites me with a wink to his empty house over facebook,
As if any of them could help me understand why I’m uncomfortable in my own body
As if God made my skin in a size too tight
Less material is cheaper
So why am I still having to pay for anti-depressants
I tend to sway towards the clichés
Picture this
An overcast joyride
Staring out of the window
Glum expression
Absorbed in depression
You’ve got me in the rule of thirds
First: I’m a time bomb of sweet nothings and childhood anecdotes and picture reels of melancholy summers spent in back gardens and dim rooms.
Second: I don’t know whether I’m going to make it out of this. You can have my scraps of journals and make of it what you want. Make a suicide note out of manuals I never threw away.
Third: I’m a teenage tragedy,
Drowning in questions that even the sea cannot answer anymore.

It is all over.
We are no longer kids but we still are and we are begging for someone to understand that, or at least to pretend they do. High school is done and so is my bottle of anxiety pills so that must mean something, it has given so much to me and also taken away so much from me I think we're even. High school was hard. I had problems, everyone did. But I guess that at the end what we're all going to remember the most is the amount of hours we couldn't get to sleep before finals. In high school I learnt that it does not matter if you are suffocating and you want someone to notice and help you and be your saviour, it only matters if you want it to matter. I also learnt not everyone is worth looking at, with eyes that could have spared looking or glancing at books I already returned to the book bank and I will never see again. High school is not about how many times you go to parties or you get asked out because, if you have a different perspective of it all, the movie dates do not drive you to graduation and the smiles for the pictures you take in parties are not the same smiles in the pictures at your graduation day.

I have not cried one day yet over my already done childhood and half-way done teenager-hood, because I already cried enough with a few things I'm quite ashamed to write about now. Perhaps the day it all sinks in and I see my friends not here with me but there with somebody else I'll cry. Or maybe not, or maybe a lot, or maybe my eyes could fill the rivers I didn't cried in all this period were people cried like maniacs while seeing pictures of them with weird haircuts and faces full of acne.

To sum this up, high school was crap. But we all love crap.