The twisted reality is that bones break. People literally break and you dont always get better. Lives end, stories end, and people rarely get new beginings. The twisted reality is that none of what you thought as a kid was true. Not everyone can be president, and you cant be who you want to be. The twisted reality is that there are monsters in some little girls rooms, and thier moms cant make them go away. The twisted reality is that nightmares only end when you do, you dont get to wake up and think everything is fine. The twisted reality is that your parents lie to you. Not everyone is beautiful, not everyone is talented, and not everyone can be special. The twisted reality is that someone in your current school will become a 'villian' before thier life is over. The twisted reality is that we are all villians. Doing horrible things for what we think is right. The twisted reality is that most people will ignore what i am saying. Live in the lie. The twisted reality is people die thinking everything is fine.

We had no warning,
no nothing.
I remember our last hug,
I thought it was a see you soon,
but part of me missed you already.  
I didn't know you wouldn't be there for my graduation, my wedding,
my life and all of the steps in whichever way I was heading.
I wanted you there, every inch of the way,
instead I have to imagine you, every single **** day.

I'm scared of missing anyone but you,
I'm scared the holes in my heart will just get bigger,
I'm scared the more people I miss the air that I breathe will just get thinner.
I'm scared the more people that leave, the more I will have to try,
and the less I will remember of you, still wishing you were nigh.

I want my brain to be bigger,
I want to keep every memory like they happened yesterday.
I want to bring back every piece of you and hide you like a stowaway.

I'm slowly forgetting you,
and as hard as I try, you just keep getting further and further
and further awry.

I've been in a car for the past three years,
watching you out the back window,
waving.
I remember our last hug.
I remember the day we left your house,
I thought it was a see you soon.
We've been slowly driving away for the past three years,
moving a tiny.bit.each.day.
The second I noticed you becoming smaller I started to panic,
I'm sitting here, manic,
watching you get smaller, and smaller, and smaller.
I'm just ******* sitting here.
I want to press the brake but it's broken,
I want to rip the keys out of the ignition but it's like they are super glued in.
I'm trying to open a door to jump out but there aren't any handles.
What kind of a door doesn't have any ******* handles?
I'm scratching at the door, screaming to get out,
hoping a god hears me,
praying that a god hears me shout.
I'm gasping for air between my pitiful attempts for help,
gasping for anything that remains of you.
Gasping,
hoping I can breathe the pieces left of you in and hold my breath until I pass out.
I'm pounding at the door.
My knuckles are bleeding but no pain is worse than that of slowly forgetting you.  
I'm trapped and the only thing I'm being told I can do is accept it.
Accept that you're gone.
"Accept it, and move on"
You left us, but every single day I feel like I'm leaving you.
It's like losing you all over again,
slowly forgetting you.

Trace the scars at her back.
You'll find a constellation.
Trace her tears when it streaks down her cheeks.
You'll find a lonely river.
Trace her hair strands.
You'll find an aromatic flowerbed.
Trace her fingertips.
You'll find hurricanes and tornadoes.
Trace her soul.
You'll find yourself.

If only I had learnt the patience.
Maybe then we could have worked out.
Maybe, just maybe then I could have realized that everything isn't meant to be perfect at once,
That perfect comes in pieces and will never be something complete.
That searching for happiness is the only way to never get it and
That two people will never be entirely right, or wrong.
That accepting this is the key,
the key to just being.