I miss you.
I miss the way
You made me feel.
The things we did.
The conversations we had.
The consistency.
I miss it all.
You don’t.
You couldn’t possibly.
You have someone.
You have
The things we did.
The conversations we had.
The consistency.
You have everything
I miss.
Only with her.
And in a way
I hate you for that.
I hate that you
No longer care.
That we no longer talk.
That I was so easily
Replaced.
I will never recover
From the damage
You caused.
The fear is
Permanently instilled.
You couldn’t love me.
Not even after a year.
So who the hell could?

If I look happy here
It’s an act,
Sorry to disappoint,
I’m actually quite miserable.
Those are the words
You said to me.
So casual.
So calm.
So nonchalant.
As if it’s never
Been any different.
That makes me sad.
It makes me sad
To know that
You haven’t been happy
For a while.
It makes me sad
To think that
You lost your smile.
It makes me sad
To realize that
You feel exactly as I do.
Because I know
Just how terrible
It truly feels.
No one deserves
Those feelings.
Those feelings of
Anger.
Frustration.
Depression.
Loneliness.
Hatred.
Hatred for where you are.
Who you are.
All the things
That got you here.
I know those feelings
All too well.
And I hate that you
Or anyone
Has to feel them too.

I want to say
It surprises me.
That I’m shocked.
Blind-sided.
Utterly amazed.
But I can’t
Because I’m not.
I knew.
I knew
From the very beginning
That we would be short lived
Just like my confidence
In us.
The “us”
And “we”
That didn’t really exist.
A “summer romance”
Is what you called it.
We fell victim to
Unfortunate circumstances.
The idea was perfect.
The timing was anything but.
None of that’s important though.
All it is
Is the same old, same old.
Childish games.
Mindless flirting.
Half-hearted hugs
And wasted kisses.
Intricate and crucial
Moments in our lives
That we can never get back.
That years from now
We probably won’t even
Remember.
I will.
But I can’t describe
How doubtful I am
That you will.
No one else
Ever does.
I’m the only one
Stuck with ghosts
From my past
And stuck with skeletons
In my closet
And stuck with baggage
From my mind.
All things
I can’t seem to shake
Because of the moments
Similar to this one
And the people
Similar to you.
That’s why
Nothing ever surprises me.

Yesterday
I began to write
My story.
I grabbed a pencil
And drew the lines
That formed the words
To tell my tale.
A detailed history
From past to present.
Copied onto a sheet
Of the finest paper.
A paper so inspiring
By its emptiness.
Its perfectness.
Its crispness.
I wrote lightly
At first.
Terrified if I
Pressed too hard
The inspiration
Would be lost.
But the writing
Was too dull.
The faint markings
Needed to be darkened
And thickened.
So with each chapter
I added
I pressed the pencil
Harder
And harder
To the paper.
Making the words
Permanently etched.
My heart and soul
Were poured into those words
Through that pencil.
I’m going to write
Everyday
Until my story
Is done.
I only started yesterday
And the chapters
Are quickly adding up.
I have twenty-six
So far.
I wonder how many
I can add
Today.

That sadness in your eyes.
I see it.
It’s haunting you.
Looming in your forethoughts.
Tormenting any chances you have
Of happiness.
I tried to distract you.
To cheer you up.
I’d like to think it worked.
The sparkle
In those pretty hazel-green eyes
Seemed to return.
But that melancholy
Was just underneath.
I hope you’re okay.
I know it’s not my place
To ask what’s wrong.
But I do it out of concern
Because you’re my friend.
And I’d like to see
That smile of yours again.
I lost mine a long time ago
And it’s a hard thing to get back.
So please don’t lose your smile.
You’ll need it
To complement those beautiful eyes.

I needed you
And you weren’t there.
Why?
Where were you?
Am I not important enough?
Do the drugs really come first?
I always told myself
I would never
[Not once]
Put myself in situations
Similar to this one.
Yet here I am.
Stuck in a battle I know
I’ll lose.
I’ve never been
Important enough.
I’ve never been
First.
There was always
Something else.
School.
Work.
You name it.
It was before me.
I was always offered
The dim hope
“After I’m done with—”
School or work
[Take your pick]
“You’ll be number one
In my life.”
But when will I be
Number one
From the beginning?

I never was sure of
Just what it was I wanted.
I had the friends.
The love.
The companionship.
Everything I needed
To be happy.
But I wasn’t.
It seemed as though
They didn’t care.
They eventually stopped calling.
Stopped wanting to talk.
Stopped visiting.
And even when I initiated
The conversations
The meetings
The calls
It didn’t matter.
The attempts were ignored.
And there I was:
Alone.
Again.
So I began my desperate search
For that thing everyone chases.
A so-called happiness
That would make this thing called life
Worth it.
But each failed attempt
Dimmed the hopes
Deep within me.
And here I am now:
Seventeen years of my life passed.
And still no purpose.
No direction.
No happiness.
So is this really worth it?
I don’t think it is.