I think too much.
I care too deeply.
I text too often.
I laugh too hard,
For fear of them having to fret
As much I do.
Such is the nature of a worrier.

I miss how we used to be,
So vibrant, so honest, so wild & free

I miss the way you would understand,
Listen carefully, & be there when I needed a hand

I miss our long, random talks at night,
Our private conversations, our silly little fights

I miss the way you could read my mind,
Know what to say, when words are hard to find

I miss the way you could brighten my day,
Make me forget the mistakes, make the pain go away

I miss how you made me laugh,
I hate how you make me cry

Loved how you said you'd always be there & so did I,
But to you, everything that I say is just a lie

there is no need
to punish some people
when they do wrong
for they are already broken,
and that is like stomping on glass
after it has shattered

even careful hands
may get cut piecing together
the shards with the glue of
love and poetry, but that
is what it takes.

Dear Damian

I miss you

I dreamt you cried in my arms
And asked that I take you back
And then we kissed
And I don't know what to do
With these stupid emotions

he'll call you pretty
he'll capture you with the sparkle of his brown eyes
and melodic laugh that'll ring in your ears for days
after the moment passed

things will escalate
your heart will race each time you hear his name
you'll admit to liking him
he'll say he feels the same

his lips will taste like honey
you'll love the taste, it'll be your  new favourite flavour
but honey gets too sickly when you eat too much

he'll call you good girl
then you'll realise,
you're not the only one who's been eating honey.

I’ve told you this before...
but i think of you a lot.
it’s not really intentional,
its just that
everything reminds of you.

when i see a flower-
i think of how good you look in the color pink.

when i think of economics, or politics, i think of you-
because i know how interested you are in those subjects.

when i stare at people for long enough-
their faces start to morph into yours.
and thats why i don’t like to go out anymore.
because everywhere i go,
i see you.
i see you in the scribbles in my journals,
and in the cracks on the sidewalks,
i see you when i press a button in an elevator,
and when I’m filling out a form to sign up for the sats?
don’t ask me why,
because i don’t know...
i just know that it happens.

i know that i know things about you that no one else does.
and you know things about me that no one else does.
you know things about me i wouldn’t want anyone else to know.
i trust you like that.
i think of you as a safe house,
a place where i know that things will be good
eventually.
at least-
i like to hope so.

Love is a strange thing.
It makes you do stupid things; unspeakable things.
Worst of all, it gives you hope.
Or more accurately, false hope.
For nineteen years, I sat alone in my room, thinking I was loved.
Maybe what caused the delusion is my success; all the trophies I achieved, all the certificates I received.
But definitely not the diseases.
Definitely not the flaws.
Have you ever sat down and thought what was going on in my mind?
Sure, you'd say you knew everything what's going in my head but do you really?
Do you know how many times I've stabbed myself in the throat in my mind?
Do you know how many times I've tied a noose around my neck?
Do you know how many times I've strangled each and every one of you to death?
No, I don't want to **** you.
I don't want to hate you.
I just want to be loved. I just want to be loved for who I am.
I just want to feel at home at home.
I just want to feel safe.
Being at home is like walking through a haunted mansion with trap doors.
You don't know when you'll trigger a trap that'll shoot tiny darts right into your heart.
As a child, I always wanted to be a superhero; I'd pretend that my life is an origin story of a superhero.
But as it turns out, it's the story of how a hopeful boy turned into a madman who tried to burn the world down.
Yes, I'm a freak, I know that pretty **** well and I don't need you to remind me that.
Do you know how hard it is to just walk straight in public thinking everyone is staring at you?
I just want a sanctuary where I dont have to worry about what people might think of me.
If home is really where the heart is,
Then I dont really have a home.

forgive me
but i still think of him
while you hold me

I've started hating all
of the music that
I love
and maybe it’s because
I hear you in every
song