when i was four saying, "i love you" to mommy was a must.
when i turned seven, love was the boy who tagged everyone else but me. even when i was the slowest runner amongst us players.
then i became fourteen, love became teaching me the math lesson over again because i didn't listen., instead of giving me the homework answers.
and now, i still don't know which love truly is,
but i'm sure of it that
love is the one thing
that's never the same
it's never the same to everyone
it's never the same every time
it's always different
but it's always beautiful.

embrace the awkward moments
they're the ones that always
always teach you a lesson

naked,
          raw,
                vulnerable

"pathetic," i spat.

oh, how so beautifully pathetic i am.

i like the smell of aftershave
but i'm not very fond of the hair stubbles that poke me
i like the smell of coffee
but i'm not very fond of drinking it

she's outspoken
yet she shies away
she's blunt
yet she's some kind of fake
i wonder how vague this girl can get
i just don't understand her

"c'mon! i dare you," i repeat more tauntingly than the last
and pull the trigger, he did.
the gasp i let out echoed.
he couldn't have intended on killing me, right?
that was just to make me suffer a little..
he knew how many bullets there were, right?
"right. there. i just made you suffer a little."
no biggie

"don't fall for the boy who tells you you remind him of someone."

i couldn't help myself,
no,
not when the someone
he was referring to
was his mother

"i had every intention of telling you,"
he claims.
"but it's already too late,"
i say.
he replies with the ever so cliché line that is, "it's never too late."
i'm not sorry
that some things just are.

"don't expect to not get disappointed,"
they said.

i didn't expect you to hurt me
no, not
the same way you know i already have been before

that's what blinded me
but had my eardrums alert
adverting its attention
to my slowly cracking heart

it wasn't that you hurt me
that hurt the most
it was how you did
while knowing,
how you were doing it,
all while promising
"i wouldn't ever"
turns out you would
turns out you are
like them
like all the others
and
dare i say it,
like him.

my tears don't threaten to spill
they run down freely
fiercely
without my permission
i never really did learn how to choke down a sob
i was never taught to do so

she furiously scribbles down on her tiny notebook
that she keeps hidden

trying with all her might to ****
and continue starving herself

because apparently pretty hurts

"i love you,"
i mumble,
promising him.

what i don't utter are the words

i love you so much i really should be leaving
but i won't
because i can't hurt you
not in that way
not ever like that

"at least let me know why you left," he begged.

but i couldn't possibly tell him i couldn't hear bells
and that
i heard it only with someone else..

after bowing, clapping is heard
i stop trying to distinguish
the ones out of bitterness and pride

i take it all in
and smile at those who made
all this possible

you're allowed to be a little selfish,
she tells herself
you're allowed to feel,
she repeats
as she pushes the blade,
manages to gulp down a sob
as she stares
stares stares stares
at the opened skin
and the dripping blood
you don't deserve this,
is what she doesn't say
or admit
even to herself

my thumb
pushing down
on a lighter
is more calming
than a
small hand
holding said thumb
watching
anything burn
is more
entertaining
to me
than the
dancing flames

i take everything as a compliment
it makes people question themselves

he was the anchor
she was the sand
and i was the sea.

no, i'm alone.
no, i'm not dancing around because of that
i am however, trying to distract myself,
trying to rid me of sadness,
trying to drown out my parents' fight.

i like touching the bumps on their arms as i sniff and finally allow my face to drop
moments like that are drenched with such genuine pain and sincerity and silent understanding with still nodding of heads
how horridly beautiful, those moments are

you've left me uninspired now
but i don't hate you
not really
instead i hate you for the wrongest reason
i hate you because i keep looking for you
even bits of your beautiful monstrous self
in these wide corridors i walk in everyday,
through the noise in the canteen,
everywhere i go and
especially in all the people i meet

our skies appear to be so gloomy
like they're always going to turn into a storm
a storm that will swipe the hopeless thoughts away
i used to look at life differently
i used to not look at life at all
but now i see clearly
the splattered like paint that are our eyes and clouds
the merged shapes and lines that are our houses and anatomies
i know now that all this will pass by like a blur
like it always does
my father tries to spend as much time with my little brothers
when i refuse to, he says
when they've grown up, i'll miss their little selves
oh, i can't guarantee i will
but i do think that he does this
because i've grown up
and he's left to miss my little self
because the people i don't recognize at reunions always tell me how big i am now
and he smiles the same smile every time at them that they seem to understand
and then he shoots me a very different one i've yet to understand

i hate my ***** stained shirt
it reminds me of wasted alcohol
it reminds me i can't get wasted at all