empecé a ver me en el espejo hace un ano
verdaderamente buscando y efectivamente encontrando
cosas que podía cambiar para que me quisieras más.
empezó con mi cuerpo y siguió a lo diminuto, el número de pestanas que tenía y lo largo de mi cabello.
me acuerdo sentir que no era suficiente para ti
que tenía que rogarte por tu atención...poniéndome como las chicas que veías en tu celular o la que estaba en tu wallpaper del teléfono. un día sonaba ser ella. pero nunca fui...entonces me sigo viendo…tratando de encontrar que me falta para que tu corras detrás de mi
para que sienta que soy la única que quisieras mirar por la eternidad
para que sería fácil que me digas que me veo bonita….sin tener que preguntarte.
lloro por no ser suficiente, lloro porque sé que hubiera podido tener más de ti…sé que no te esforzaste, lloro por el miedo que sientas lo que sentiste por mí con alguien más, lloro por imaginarme como se verá ella cuando sea que aparezca, lloro por saber que tus ojos nunca fueron ni serán totalmente para mí

i used to get flowers every month. they sat at my table and withered away but at least they made me feel something. it's been almost two years since dead petals grazed the table. i stare at an empty vase and wonder if i am capable of being loved. the way i love you. i feel so heavily but you are not there to balance it out. there are empty words and looks that mean nothing. i haven't seen love in your eyes in months. you may think its an over exaggeration but i've seen it many times in others. so instead i feel heavy. every tear swallowed like the two ton weight that anchors confidence. instead of feeling empowered and independent i feel belittled. not worthy of admiration, looking in the mirror, bending and ******* in pieces of me i wished were different so i could be more for you. the absence of your words i searched for was deafening. i became immune to others compliments because if it did not roll from your tongue it did not matter. i told you everything about me, undressed my stories and untucked my fears. but you are still buried, clothed, a wall and a guard between your soul and mine. at times you still felt like a stranger.
a stranger i love very much.

i wish there was a way to draw out how i feel,
the tornadoes inside of me and the tangled ***** of yarn in my head.
the knots that form, a failed crochet, a product of walking in circles with my eyes closed. the colonies of goosebumps that race down my spine, searching for a finish line, for when my words are matching up but i can't seem to form a specific thought.
threads of this were movie scenes, an essence of cinematography or the warmth of a color. brush strokes i had visualized but never translated. melodies that made me feel but i could never explain how. inside of me were messes. dried up paint from a palette i never used, only created because i liked the colors. words i strung together, poking my fingers with the needle each time i didn't have the confidence to say how i felt. the fear of what others may think when they know i feel so deeply. there was an entire sky full of stars, dotted with each sentence i couldn't seem to spit out.
i couldn't overcome the fear of saying how heavily i feel even though i love you so much. there were moments where i bite my tongue til it bleeds so i don't tell you words that will never reciprocate.

i used to write about people that provoked me to feel a specific way,
no matter if that feeling lasted a week, a day or a year.
there were people i'd see in waiting rooms in doctors offices that ignited pages of words i had never unveiled.
i don't know if it is part of becoming older, this feeling of nothingness. losing hope in the spark of others, realizing they all are figments of what we hope for them to be, an embodiment made of illusions.
blowing out candles yearly has dimmed the lights,
the loss of wonder for the ones around me and the ones i have not yet found diminishes.
wondering if what i dreamed of is even alive, if all i ever wanted was drowning every second i got older.
love used to feel like the pain in your face from when you've smiled too much. now it feels like a home with no furniture, full of echoes.
i hear lyrics written out, about these girls who mean so much, who make a man seem vulnerable for the one he loves. saying if life was a movie, she'd be the best part. and i doubt myself, wondering if i don't possess what it takes to make someone feel this way. if i'm lukewarm and halfhearted, if i would ever experience a love that would change a person's heart. if someone could feel as sublime as i did, a grand optimist bursting with wonder, instead of the bitter realist i am becoming.
coming of age is not something i asked for.

i wanted to feel submerged.
the feeling underwater when you hear nothing but its song.
when your eyes are closed but you know exactly whats around you.
the serenity of water coating every beginning and ending of me.
at that moment all i could think of was breathing.

giving myself away was the worst pain i have ever gone through.
i remember being caught in a web of words, trusting everything you spoke was true. staying up when my eyes begged me to shut them, to comfort you. giving away time like it was never mine in fear you'd be angry it wasn't spent on you. you knew i was naive, innocent, inexperienced. you told me i believed life was a fairy-tale, that i trusted everyone too easily, and that you never trusted anyone but yourself. you knew i gave everyone the benefit of the doubt, believing everyone was innately good. you heard my aspirations, and when i met them, you kept a straight face and discouraged my excitement because it would mean distance between us.
you got me my favorite things. things i always wanted, but you held no interest in. a record player, to play music you never allowed in your car. a polaroid...which later seemed for only pictures of you and i. i will always be appreciative of the thoughtfulness, but i believed these items did not buy me. they seemed to be there as a reminder, for all the "things" you've gotten me. as to say the items were a trade, and you expected me, entirely, swallowed up into your world in return.
i remember crying after a year a half. i had gone through the greatest physical and emotional pain simultaneously. my first surgery and my greatest betrayal. i'm pretty sure the neighbors heard. food didn't enter my system in a week. there was so much manipulation and mind games racked up from you, and to this day i learn more and more that your love for me was far from perfect like you claimed it to be. you put me on a pedestal and tore me down every time i stepped down from it. but you never even came close to what you held yourself up as. i lost myself. it was a difficult and confusing way back.
you crawled to me a couple times later.
giving myself away is something i will never do again. i have never felt a feeling of vulnerability or intimacy with anyone because of you. i built up a wall so high, being afraid that the world is just like you. i never want to find another you. so i wrap myself in me. hoping i'll be enough for now.

a dark room and a dim light,
the constant sound of the ac unit was comfort,
the thought of everyone around slipping into their dreams,
lights off, mouths shut, eyes seeing absolutely nothing.

nothingness was beautiful, she held a constant hum that was my lullaby, like the hands on a clock dancing closer to a new hour.
she inhabited me, cleared my heart of emotions that have sunken in these tired eyes, people that never left my head for years, feelings tied to individuals who stirred confusion in my mind.
there was something so peaceful, in feeling nothing for no one.
no desire to intertwine fingers, a forgetfulness on how to look someone in the eyes. cherishing silence more than conversation. letting go of strings that were wound so tight around those i tugged for every day. and never knoting new ones to people i met.

actions became empty, but i became full, picking up all the pieces i left behind for others.