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

he's the kind of *******
that tells you you're not special
without actually telling you
because he gives everybody
his '**** me' eyes
but you wouldn't want
to ever be special for him, anyway

i take everything as a compliment
it makes people question themselves

even the mere idea
suggestion
of self harming bothers me
yes, it is selfish
ungrateful
ignorant
but also very sad
i cannot come to terms with the fact that people hurt other people
so much they resort to hurting themselves
as long as God exists, you are not alone
how could you hurt Him like that?

"paint on wood
paper on paint on wood
ink on paper on paint on wood
pen in hand on paper on paint on wood," she mumbled.
"like your emotions," i said. "all those crazy prepositions mixed with random nouns."

flipping the pages of the last book you made me read makes me feel like i've been suffering dyslexia for some time now
so hauntingly familiar
not in any way foreign to me
a photo falls so delicately onto my stained rug
the photo i used as a bookmark
the photo of us i've kept hidden
and forgotten
the photo of you handing a couple dollars
to somebody not in the camera's view
the photo with me beside you
gratefully smiling
as i munch on a waffle
the waffle i spit out right after
the photo that reminds me of the horrid taste of that waffle
it's taste almost as bad as what i feel for you

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

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

my fingers stars tapping against the cold granite floor
and i sit and wait
i sit
and i wait
so patiently, it kills me
not the waiting part,
well, that too
but also
mostly
the knowledge of knowing
what i'm waiting for
could either bring me
immense joy or sorrow

losing him's like being given an oreo
when you've been having double stuff forever

i've been losing him and i didn't even notice

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

he's like monday
loathed, but still attended to

he walks like passion
he talks like passion
he gestures like passion
he does everything with passion
i hope he'd have for me

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

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

i am a hypocrite
i have my fair share of selfish days
i only do it differently
self harming, i mean
i chug alcohol
like i should
be poise in sipping milk
inhale
like i'm not slowly being addicted
sideway shaving
is as close to actually cutting
i'll ever get
and i'm a fake
albeit i like to think i'm not
i like to think my smiles are real
and 70% of the time, they are
mostly..
but that 30% still exists
and that's proof alone
that i'm a hypocrite

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

"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

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

"i've got strong faith
strong enough to believe
that daydreaming
isn't as wonderful or horrible
as it's made out to be
but i've got a near to naive mind
naive enough to not
be capable of daydreaming,"
he said.
to which i replied, "that's some kind of.. sad."

what is love?
ah, the ever so asked question
sometimes expected
sometimes not ;at random times
i don't know what love is
but i do know
what it's not
it's not jealous or angry
they say
it may be written on the bible
and not that i'm questioning God's word
but love is jealous
and love is angry
and it's so many more other different bad things
and great things as well
that is because
we people
are capable of feeling
not only one feeling at a time
some just overpower
all the other feelings
because love is vehemence
it is desperate too
i just know that love isn't
a person
or a thing
or a place
or what you felt for the boy you've been crushing on for forever, ever since but never actually spoke to
love is not
finding out about someone's favorite something and making it your favorite something as well for the sole purpose of that thing being said person's favorite something, no
but
love is
liking the feeling of crushing on someone you've never really known
and love is
finding yourself liking the same thing the person that matters to you likes
and it is just that, maybe maybe not, love.

"what's this hug for?"
"because you're the kind of person who handles heartache better than illness and i don't know about you but that kinda says a heck of a lot about your character, i hate it. i hate that you've grown accustomed to hurt, it's never not foreign to you anymore."

"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.

in the process of trying to fall in love with you
because i believed i needed to
i fell for someone else instead
i fell so effortlessly
i didn't even notice it
until you pointed out
that i've been smiling
more so than i ever had around you
no, not until
i had to chide myself
every time
i compared you two

put your phone down
quit it with the selfies
i know those smiles aren't real
put that cancer bringing stick away
talk to me instead
i'll listen to what you have to say
let me be like the pillow
you whisper your dreams to
when no one else is around
let me be your friend
i only ever see you at parties
but i notice
i noticed the scars
and i noticed the bruises
and with every one out the door
when it's all finally over
i notice how you always stay behind
to help clean up
it's always my friends' parties
they aren't your friends but you help
with you trying to be nice
don't you just want
someone to be nice to you as well?
i can be that person
i will be that person
because i used to be the person you were
battered and everything much worse
but what's really got me irked
and conflicted
is how you can be nice to others
but not to yourself
is why you add trouble to your problems
rather than trying to rid of them
put the phone down
happiness isn't something you can fake
put that stick away
yes, the smoke you puff out
it's beautiful
only because it came from your lips
but remember
stress isn't something you can be free from
those sticks won't help
they could but only for a little while
never permanently
that phone and that stick is not your friend
but i can be
just look at me
talk to me

now we're left missing
the you you were before you got hurt
more so, i'm sure,
than you miss your old self
but then again,
there's no such thing
as a new and old self
there's just you
you, that's not exactly yourself
could be, not anymore,
not at all
or not so much
you
there's just the you before
you had to deal with his *******
the you before
you looked at it
as if it was a necessity
to fake smiles
when really,
it's the ugliest existing thing
in this world
there's just the you who held too tight
with both hands onto him
or not at all
so you could cover your eyes instead
there's just the you
before he left you to crumble
and the you now.

let's play 21 questions
your questions will go from
how old are you
to
are you still a ******
my questions will go from
what's your favorite color
to
what's the worst thing you've done

both wanting to already know
if what's barely beginning
to happen yet
will be worth it

i guess it is possible to like two people at the same time
the scary part is i can't seem to assure myself whether it's a blessing or a curse to know who i like more

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

i'm not sure if what we had could be considered love
since i've been told
love cannot be known so easily

i just want that feeling again
that feeling you gave me
i'm helplessly craving
that giddy feeling of loving life

even if it's with somebody new
especially if it's with somebody new
so i know you're not the only one
who can make me feel so alive

if your parents yell a lot
mostly at each other
and have you thinking:
why not just break up
because that's how sick
you are of their banter

if your parents are the parents who
have you thinking:
good thing, i'm their kid
if they were another kid's parents,
that kid would've probably
grown up to be a major ***** up.
with how laid back your parents are
but then you must remember
how much of a ***** up you are too
so stop thinking

if your parents still love each other
if they still tease each other
and laugh together
and put up with each other's antics
and prepare coffee while the other
is still fast asleep
but never complains
when they wake up to cold coffee

if your parents kid around a lot
and bully you together sometimes
but also care for you
because though they won't admit it
they love you more than they love
each other,

if your parents always threaten to leave but never really do
then you know they're a keeper
and that they always will be

if you don't understand your parents'
love for each other, know that
that's just how it's supposed to be

if your parents are anything like mine,
i hope you haven't gone mad just yet
know that they're the best thing
that will ever happen to you

and

that you'll most likely
end up finding them
in the person you'd
want to marry.

I constantly find myself trying to tell people I'm sad and it's as if they're all trying their best to not listen

“When you knock but the door never opens, you eventually stop." (Not the exact words) — Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children

"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..

i'm barely even a teen
you can't expect me to fall
that isn't fair
i know most people assume
only the damaged and broken
keep themselves
from falling
but they aren't the only ones
because i'm here
and i'm neither
but i refuse to fall
maybe i'm scared
of welcoming something
foreign that not even my mother can make me understand
love cannot be taught, is what i'm told
maybe i just don't want to have something just to lose it

because when he tugged my hair and rudely asked why it is the way it is and claimed tugging it will make it straight,
i let him
because when he pulled me into him to tease me about my height,
i let him
i let him and i'll continue to let him
but i shouldn't let myself
both of us cannot afford the other letting ourselves

naked,
          raw,
                vulnerable

"pathetic," i spat.

oh, how so beautifully pathetic i am.

With your forehead
Pressed against mine
And our fingers intertwined
With nothing but our breaths
Behaving erratically
Its vibrations
Bouncing on the walls
Like the creaky bed we're laying on
And our sweat swirling together
Us becoming one
When you leave me
Tangled in the sheets
I'll miss you, sure
But I can guarantee
To you
I won't come looking
To be left again
That's why I'll forget about you
Even if I'd have to force myself
I'd press my forehead against another
Intertwine my fingers with a stranger
Breathe into someone else's ear
And not hold back
On letting my sweat roll
Onto the person who isn't you's back
I won't hold back
If that means forgetting you

a wild child full of grace
stuck in this dream of a haze
that we all agreed to call life
though most times i'd rather die

regret hatred and deception
all in the pain of excruciation
maybe someday i'll be great
despite great being the only thing
i've chosen to hate

it isn't self pity nor is it envy
it's just the thought of maybe
what i'm supposed to be is right in front of me
that i can't seem to see

for i am scared that i will love you more than i can bear

"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.

when you run your fingers
along the lengths of mine
like that,
you always
almost
have me a fool for you
but no.
because it's already happened
that you looked at me
with so much attentiveness
in your eyes,
so much intent
in your gestures
actions,
i believed you were listening
but you weren't.
you were simply just looking
looking at
"something too good for me," you said
i have never wanted
you to be one of the likes
i despise most in this world
the selfish.
but it was then that
i've come to the conclusion;
selfishness is because
of sometimes beautiful
and reasons worth being selfish over,
sometimes not.
i know this because i decided
to be selfish myself
and not to tell you
to act on your feelings
for i was scared
and i allowed myself to be selfish
on account of that fear,
keeping my love for you to myself.

i hate it when i'm with a group and a person's laugh appears and sounds to be so real
but then the smile is quickly wiped off their face as they stare at nothing in particular
when the joke's finally said
and everybody else is finally done laughing
when they aren't aware of my awareness of their wariness

when my hair gets windswept
and the sky is blue
and the secrets are still kept
i will remember you

when all i have left of you
are these polaroid pictures
i won't feel so gloom
and i'll continue to capture

moments that only we share
to keep me from my despair

to keep me from forgetting you

i'm only human, after all
and my kind
is as strong as we are weak

ah, but whatever happened to not breaking so easily?

she thinks it would be nice to live far away
what she doesn't understand is that that isn't the same with
isolating yourself

obviously masked
standing still in the middle of a crisis
my heart remaining the same as it is
but my expressions
oh, what they're giving away
cannot be taken back

"i'd do it all over again," he repeated.
"and that's what makes me a monster."

i wonder which hurt him more
the fear in my eyes that showed
or the pity
or maybe how i said
"no, but, you're just a boy."
because i was once told
it's not what you say but how you say it.

i can't allow myself
to be sad
when all my friends
already are.

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.

Sinking into my bed
Used to feel so comforting
But now,
Without you to
Leave the sheets all wrinkled
By your incessant
Turning and twisting
To get yourself comfortable enough,
It's now left to be just a bed
A bed I sleep in
A bed where I lay
Every night, dreaming of you
And wondering
If all the twisting and turning
You did should have warned me
You were never at peace
In my presence, I must've noticed
But I let myself be blinded
By how you'd pull me to you
When you thought
I was long gone asleep
Or perhaps you knew
Perhaps you knew all along
I've been keeping myself up
And trying to engrave in my brain
The way you'd twist and turn
In hopes of remembering
You precisely once you left
Because I always knew you
Eventually would
Leave me