I cannot tell you how I feel because the girl in the pictures is in the way.
All the other people that left shards of glass and metal incisions in my self confidence were also in the way.
most importantly I don't know if this feeling flows both ways
It shakes me in plenty of ways but it is better than the results of past confessions that left me screeching into pillows and burying my face into my knees

(past problems present effects, 10 pm)

"at that point, i don't really know what i felt. it was not invisibility nor visibility. i felt like i was floating in the unnoticeable, kind of there, kind of not there fog. Fog is clouds that were supposed to be up high and exalted, but somehow they are brought down. Fog is unreasonable, with no practicality and almost good for nothing. i guess that's what i was too."
-(midnight narrations in October)

you are no longer the one plus one i dreamed of or the cure-all to my pains and you are no longer motivation in my veins
i have steered clear because you are a caterpillar with a cocoon brain (underdeveloped, unraveled, closed up and shriveled)
you are not the glorified person i thought you would be, i put you on a pedestal of faux gold that qucikly rotted and tarnished with the truth
you are not the knight in shining armor and you are not the boy that will change my life and go to the forest with me.
your freckles have turned into specks on the windshield that annoy you when you cant see and your eyes have turned into piercing lasers that are the only temptation left in you
maybe i have changed my vision from far sighted to near sighted and now i only see you up close and personal , clear as daylight.
you need to check yourself, reevaluate yourself, validate yourself, so you can decimate all these condescending thoughts of who you are and who you are pretending to be.
the butterflies you swat around from side to side and up and down are not toys and have very delicate wings as well as fragile hearts.
these butterflies are not choices, don't act like you don't know they're swarming around you because of who they think you are and your sweet nectarine temptation
you cannot pick and choose and play with wings until they break and then feel sorry after.
my preconceived notions of who you were and what we could be were as wrong as 1492, when the world was perceived flat
now i see the three dimensional you

it's quite cliche to say, but i noticed you before you even knew I was an existing being with veins and arteries that pumped blood faster in sight of you.
in the busted up little heart of mine I always wished you could notice me too because i felt something was in you that made me feel as if i were rising, ascending into clouds with millions of silver linings.
now that you know my name and I know what it sounds like coming from you lips,
i am captivated by you and your speckled face, your burning eyes, your irrelevant jokes and strange mannerisms.
but captivity means being confined and imprisoned too, and that's exactly how i feel about you.
you are the sunflower that bees depend on and love,
and i am the naive bee trapped inside,
and i'm trying to make you realize how much you mean to me, and how i glorify your being in a way that i shouldn't, because you are just a sixteen year old boy fleeting from commitment,
and I am a bee chasing after your non-existent pollen

coffee breath, lead stained hands, fingers numbly typing in numbers that have more value than my test scores,
numbers stab like axes cutting down trees that cry in silent screeches in the forest.
numbers like ninety seven, ninety, and eighty two.
numbers that will never define who i am on a college transcript
and these numbers are worth more than who i am in this world, since we are defined by numbers today
even though we made the same mistake in 1939, turning people into numbers by stabbing pigments into their forearms, creating a lesser value for them.
a forty eight is stupid and a fifteen percent is like a hollow head.
i am defined by numbers like fifteen and forty eight and i am told that i should be embarrassed of who i am, or for the number that i am.
and if an equation can't be solved," i'm sorry m'am you cant move on", because your capacity is again,
defined by a number.
i am not a number
i am not the forty eight or the fifteen that scratches the back of my eyeballs like nails filing down a chalkboard.
i am not the one forty five i sleep at when ripping my hair out trying to solve equations of irrational numbers when i should be solving the equations of my irrational thoughts
and everything is turning round and round and round like the infinite possibilities of solutions to equations,  
and i go to sleep, and lay my head down as early as possible, but my mind is running in circles with numbers taunting me and defining me and interrupting my sleep.
it is morning now, my mother comes and checks on me to see how i am in this "new wonderful day"
the tiredness seeps through my purple eye bags that i try to cover with tan makeup, and i think about how i really feel in the morning. i stare in the mirror and numbers stare back, i weep as i sit on the floor with the numbers streaming down my eyes, evacuating them from my system, because numbers have made me mentally insane.
there is no hope of numbers leaving because they carry through, even after algebra two,
weight and credit scores, and the amount of money you owe in debt, your mortgage payment, and the amount your retirement fund has swallowed up for your uncertain future,
i am not a number
i am not a number
and i will fight numbers off like the moon controls the tide,
the tide will never control the moon,
and numbers will never control me.

In outer space, there are 10 particular stars that are the brightest. They are part of important constellations that people search for their whole life by name. The brightest star is Sirius, because of its magnitude.
You are my Sirius.
I searched and searched and searched millions of constellations, looking for the brightest star and I found you.
I am like the regular stars of the universe which do not contain such a spectacular magnitude and would never be able to reach the superiority of Sirius.
You Sirius, are the kind of boy someone would write a book or produce a movie about, because you are literally a star.
At least ten girls in school admire you because of your magnitude and your being, and maybe they sit there and write about you too.
I've been searching for you my whole life and here you are in front of me, for at least two hours of a day.
I don't know what to do now that you're so close and I don't want to ***** up. I wish my intelligence could be enough for you, but Sirius, you are the brightest of them all, and there are brighter stars out there that admire you.
there are less skinny,less lankier stars that stare at you
there are more brilliant, smarter stars that yearn for you
there are stars that don't laugh like an asthmatic,
there are stars that have themselves in order and know where they are going and what scholarships they will receive because of their brilliance.
man, i may be the most annoying, stick skinny, unintelligent, asthmatic star out there, but at least i perceive you as my Sirius. **no other star sees you brighter than how blindingly bright i see you.

don't you think it's completely wrong to tell a girl she is being "way to much of a girl"
don't you think its merely disgusting to tell someone they are way too happy
and isn't time you stopped being bitter for the sake of other people laughing when you can barley crack a smile

see I've been there, done that and comments have come and go,
and everyone seems to tell you to be a woman.
to be prim and proper,
to have the posture of a princess and the mouth of a doll
(see because dolls only talk when you make them and the only words that escape their mouth are the ones you want)
everyone tells you to take that frown that takes so many more muscles to produce and turn it into some fake smile and laugh every single moment off as if the world was your oyster,
(which i never understood, because who likes oysters anyway?)

and now you see, i took the worlds advice and now look at me, being criticized left and right and left and right once again,
just for being what i was taught to be when i was a tomboy with dirt under my nails and basketball shorts over my knees and hair slicked back in a braid
for laughing about things i would've never found humorous when i would cry almost every day over some vacuous boy who I invested my fickle heart in (but from that experience i learned not to believe someone when they say those three words that are commonly overused in a fourteen year old's dictionary of phrases)

and now before you spew out venom from your mouth which is connected to your pea sized brain,
i suggest you to replay the little broken record inside your brain promoting the anthem of "self love and no self deprecation, you are beautiful just the way you are! you deserve to be happy!" before you tell anyone that they need to stop laughing, stop being such a woman, and stop being so happy.
think before you teach.