I remembered today a recent memory repressed.
I recall how my scared mind yelled when it happened,
It is technically in!
Oh my God, it's gone farther!

It's technically not considered ****,
it didn't go very far.
But I felt things I've never felt before,
and I've done a lot of things.

If his underwear weren't there,
it would have been ****.
But his underwear was there,
still I felt my privacy and lifestyle intruded,
and I still don't know what to call that day.

This was the day he left me.

Dear Minimalist,
Dear Belittler,
Dear Soulless Ginger,
Dear Stupid,
        because I know you hate being called that.
Dear ****,
Dear Liar,
Dear Sexist,
Dear Racist,
        you typical stereotyper.
Dear *******,
Dear *******,
Dear *******,
Dear ******-****,
Dear *******,
Dear *******,
Dear *******,

*******.

I am good at hiding,
good at hiding my truths,
good at hiding my secrets.
My mask is a smile,
it disguises my frown,
it hides my flaws.
Tears can't be seen behind a smiling mask.

I made the mistake
of reading past scripts
after a rejection
that hit me harder than the rest.

Monsoons didn't come,
but I'm sure they will.

Every morning, I wake
up and long for
his body beside mine
and know it will never be.

Wondering where you've been all my life.
Take me into your loving arms.
I just started living.
Darling, I will be loving you till we're 70.
Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.

When you say you need me,
know I need you more.
Place your head on my beating heart.

I'm scared.
Oh, so scared.
But when you're near me,
I feel like I'm standing with an army
of men armed with weapons.

Maybe we found love right where we are.

I love lying next to you.
I could do this for eternity,
you and me.

When my hair's all gone and my memories
        fade,
I know you will still love me the same.

When you say you love me,
know I love you more.

I got over the boy
of two years' desire
in a single day,

but no matter how much I've tried,
getting over you,
a month's desire
and the only month I've had
where a man was good to me,
is not something that will come soon
or with ease.

I don't know if or when
I'll move on from this phase,
which I hope I'll be able to call it,
but I sure hope I do
if you don't hop on this ship
and join me down this river.

Never before have I known
someone
who I've wanted nothing more
from
than to hold
your hand,
and lean by your
side.

Every time I think of you,
I see the word ‘Regret.’

It is written over the memories,
the ones I wish were never made.

These memories I dread
are the ones I have of you.

Oh, how I regret you.
How I regret ever being with you.

I regret even knowing you.
I wish I never met you.

I have so many regrets
just because of you.

I sit in the car, think of it,
and fill myself with dread.

I regret you,
and everything about you,
everything you represent.

Every time I think of you,
I see the word ‘Regret.”

She smells like the following:
farts,
****,
and baby powder,
but never at the same time.

She also thinks she kicked me out,
when in reality,
I was ready to leave.

She gives me looks of disgust,
like she's better than me.
But in all honesty,
she's the socially awkward one

who only has friends because they
were mine first.
She's the one who caused all our problems.

She left dirt in my bed
and denied it.
She touches and uses all my stuff
without asking me first.
Then she gets mad and offended
when I tell her not to do that.

She's a *****,
that's really all she is.
A smelly *****.
She's almost nineteen years old,
and smells and acts
like an infant.

My roommate is a *****,
and I hate her.
I am so glad I'm leaving.

oh, you might read this?
oh no,
looks like i don't give a ****.

guess i should apologize
for pouring my feelings out there.
guess i'm overreacting again.

oh well.

India, China,
Venice and Rome.
Oh, the places I will go.

Lisbon, Paris,
Vancouver and Peru.
Oh, the places I will travel through.

Istanbul, Dublin,
Kenya and Cairo.
Oh, the places I will go.

I can’t stop.
I won’t stop.

The thoughts keep coming,
keep pouring into my head.

I wish I could forget,
and move on forever

and ever more:
to be everlastingly happy.

But I can’t.
They keep coming.

They won’t stop.
They can’t stop.

They keep coming,
keep pouring into my head.

The stress is not worth my time,
my energy.

They make me negative.
They make my world cold.

I am doubtful of myself,
and these thoughts remind me.

They can’t stop.
They won’t stop.

I'm not sleeping
because I'm afraid of the nightmares
        I bare
when I'm asleep and no one's there.

I'm not sleeping
because I fear,
in less than a day,
she won't be there
or she'll push me away.

I'm not sleeping
because I think about the things to
        come -
the good and the bad.

The nightmares keep me up.
More attacks on the innocent
to be screened inside.
Mostly in schools,
once underground.
Flaw-full students,
ones with glasses or inconsistent
        tardies.
Or innocent princesses,
animated and have come to life.
Attacks from the power gone evil.
Principals become ******
and evil witches or queens grow
        the size of skyscrapers.

The innocent become meerkats
in the ground when the hyena
appears.
Travel great depths to find the one
to help them save the world.
Wake up before justice is served.

I'm not sleeping
because I can't stop the mare
and save my mind.
Wake up in fear
and then have her push me away.

But I need to sleep
so I don't explode
when I am pushed.

I'm not sleeping
because of fear.

But I might just leave,
it's too uncomfortable now.
I told you too much,
and you fell to the ground,
scared for me,
scared for you.

Though grateful for concern,
I thought you would have said
        something by now.
I apologized for my outburst, for
        bringing you in when you
        should not have known.
Now my gratefulness for concern is
        withering,
and my comfort around you is
        weakening,
because you have said nothing since
        you showed me concern.
I just wish you'd free me of myself.
I beat myself up over this - and all
        you need to do
is say a word or two.

I'll miss you
until you're in my arms
again.

Until I know you're mine
again.

Until I see your beautiful face
again.

Until I hear your laugh
again.

You make this all so
worth it,

and I can't wait
to look into your eyes
again.

Ever since I lost a friend
to a truth she refused to take,
I fear sight from all eyes
on me, seeing the liar
I am truly not.

I stopped caring
…about everything, really.
And now look at me,
I'm carefree.

What did you expect from me
when I'm crying,
and you know every reason why?

What did you expect from me
when you claim to understand me?
It is clear through your tone
that that's what you think,
but I sure as hell can tell you:
you don't know.

What did you expect from me
when you walked into my room
like you owned it?

What did you expect from me
when you say I overreact,
then insult me in any way possible?

What did you expect from me?

What do you expect from me?

I can tell you what to expect.
But maybe that might be an "overreaction."

I don't answer to you.
Good bye,
and good riddance.

Friendship is a two-way street.
I can't always be there for you
if you're never there for me.

And just because you say you are
doesn't mean a thing:
because when I do, it's never good.

You tell me I'm wrong,
you tell me I'm dumb,
and then you change the subject to you.

Friends have faith in each other,
they doubt none.
But you,

Oh, you are the one full of doubts.
Tell me I can't do it,
or even that you never ever thought I could.

Thanks for the faith,
oh, dearest friend.
You showed me how not to be.

Thank you for your lessons,
I learned so much, indeed.
I will warn the others of your schemes.

I hope your boyfriend treats you well,
because he's all you have now,
now that I am stepping out.

I am stepping out for my own sake,
because you are no good for me.
All you ever did was bring me down.

Just know that I'm done.
Just know that I'm gone.
Just know that I've moved on.

I hope your boyfriend treats you well,
because he's all you'll ever have.
I'm never running back.

A whole new world,
a wondrous place I thought
I knew.

What's this feeling I feel?
It's like it's real.

Is this how desire feels?
To want him to hold me
and never let me go?

I get so much judgment for talking about you
and what you taught me,
what you saved me from,
what you have inspired within me.

I am even given judgment when I tell others
of the times when you protected me
from my peers,
and even from myself.

You don't even know my history of
physical self-harm.
You only know how I put myself through misery
without a care.  I won't ask for help.

You're my hero because
I didn't need to ask for help,
you gave it regardless.
And I get judged for telling people that.

Granted, I talk of it a lot,
but you mean the world as a hero should.
I won't stop talking about you.
In a week, I get to see you.

You don't want me to come back,
because you think it'll be best to stay away.
Stay away and detach from that place for a bit.
But I can't not see a friend when I can.

I want to catch up, to talk with you,
to not face the judgment I face every single day
from every single person I know.

You are my hero,
I will never forget it.
You were there when no one else was.
Hero, I won't forget you.

Home is where five taught me life,
told me its tricks,
and showed me its hidden secrets.

The artist who showed me secret passageways,
who inspired me to capture memories,
to capture one at a time.

Focus on one thing at a time;
too many focal points is messy.
One thing at a time, you’ll make your
        masterpiece.

Capture the time in multiple shots,
you’ll find the winner.
Capture the moment in time.

The astronomer, the birder,
who taught me to take a step back,
and look to the sky from the ground.

Look for the patterns of far away suns,
listen for the melodies sung by small singers
        in the trees,
pay attention to the beauty of every pattern,
        every song.  None are the same.

So listen when the singers sing,
look up when the sky is dark,
and bask in the beauty that is all around us.

The historian who helped me remember the
        past,
and move on from it.
The historian who held me when no one else
        would.

Remember back to the day.
Feel it, remember it,
put it behind.

It won’t do anything for you now.
The past only shapes you.
Learn from it, grow from it.

The speaker who gave me new eyes,
more perspectives,
and respect for all.

We all come from different backgrounds,
different cultures,
even at home.  We’re all different.

Judgment for differences is foolish,
because we’re all different -
no one is the same.

The reader, the writer, who taught me
        individualism,
to be myself with no fear,
who gave me my dreams.

You can do whatever you set your mind to,
no one can tell you otherwise.
Do whatever makes you happy,

because you’re the only you in this world.
No one person is a waste, a no one, or a
        nothing;
we’re all somethings.  Sometimes it takes
        time to find

what we are, who we are,
but that’s the adventure of life,
and it never ends.

Soon I’ll be brought back to them:
the artist who taught me patience,
the astronomer, the birder, who taught me
        gratitude,
the historian who brought me back to bring
        me forward,
the speaker who spoke words of wisdom
        that taught me kindness,
and the reader, the writer, who showed me
        me.

I always knew I looked like her:
same eyes, smile, ****** expressions,
and even our glasses and smiles.
I always knew that my curls and her
        straight hair separated us.
I always knew that we liked the same things,
disliked the same things.
I always knew our hands wrote the
        same.
I always knew that her fear of
        something
and my love for that thing
made us unique,
but today I learned something new.
We talk the same.
I may swear more,
but I'm not really sure.
I've heard her swear once when she
        was mad,
and every other time,
she was reading a foul line.
But when we're happy,
we have the same tone,
the same speed,
the same words.
When we're sad,
you can hear it in our voices,
see it in our eyes,
notice it in our slouching spines.
And when we're proud of others,
we let them know.
Oh, over and over again,
we let them know.
I'm proud to say I'm like her,
and maybe not seeing her for a year,
I'll be okay.

Choosing
to get to
know you

was the biggest
mistake

I've made in my life.

I love how you treat me.

It’s how, to you, I must be the earth you walk on,
the earth you spit your gum into.

It’s the way you try to start a fight
with every syllable that comes from my mouth.

I love the way you apologize,
even though we both know it means nothing.

I love how impatient you are with me,
especially when I forget you’re an all-knowing piece of perfection.

It makes me swoon
when you call me stupid to my face.

I fall head over heels
when you question everything I say.

My heart skips a beat whenever you say my name,
and you say it with disgust.

I love when you tell me you care,
and then go out of your way to cause me discomfort.

I love it the most when everything I do
comes in second to whatever you do.

I love how you treat me.

Hatched from their cacoons,
they're all different now.
Changed to different colors,
different tones, different attitudes.
Newly-winged butterflies flutter
to wherever their hearts desire.

Then there's that one caterpillar,
left in the dirt, not wanting to flutter
with the rest, but to walk with the bold
down below.

Change will come, but if the heart
        changes, so will the mind.

The caterpillar with a heart as strong as
        gold
tires of being with the butterflies
who do whatever they please
regardless of its righteousness or
        wrongness.

The caterpillar wants to grow,
but to walk instead of fly
as high as the sky.
To be grounded and strong,
not high and fragile.

Tears in the shower
caused by a friend,
would rather die
than be hurt again.

I know this feeling too well.
Losing.

For the past ten years,
it’s been the only thing I’ve ever known.

I thought I grew used to this,
but the discomfort crept back.

Though I have not lost it all this time,
I still find myself trekking back to that familiar feeling.

Because after ten years of losing,
it's become all I know.

It’s all I know,
and I know when it’s coming.

It’s coming,
and I’m losing.

I've been ready for awhile,
and lately been walking down this
        aisle.
It's getting darker as I wander
and slowly tip-toe my way through.

I see you in a passing pew,
smiling and waving, offering a
        trusting hand.
Your caring eyes blaze through mine
that hold fear for a red-eyed beast
in the pew behind.

Its eyes glow red with villainy,
putting me in agony.
He stands tall like a werewolf on
        hinds,
breathing heavily and convincing
        minds.

Your hand still extended,
I want to take it.
I know no beast is in you,
but the beast is always there.

I want to go down a different path,
and maybe the one with you is best,
but perhaps I'll find another beast,
who'll eat my heart and leave me rot.

It feels like someone took a knife to my back,
and tore open my skin in one, slow motion.

It feels like the person reached into the gaping hole,
and is still pulling on my muscles, my ribs, and my lungs.

The someone is pulling and twisting on my insides,
their big hands attacking me from behind.

The person stops, and my hopes rise.
Then the someone shoves the knife into my open wound.

Twisting and pulling again,
this time with the original offender.

My muscles are angel hair,
covered in my own marinara sauce.

Playing with its food,
the someone twists my strands,

she slices them,
slicing me again.

Soon the whole me
will be bits of me.

As long as she keeps twisting and pulling,
I’ll continue my way to my death bed.

My death bed,
covered in angel hair.

My death bed,
covered in my marinara sauce.

Chopping it off is my expression.
I've had this same chop since I was not
        even seven.
Chop it all off and rid the rotten in my
        past.
I'll miss my curly locks, but I've got to
        move on.  Anyway, this won't last.

I know I sound like Miley,
and soon I'll look her,
but one thing's for sure:
I'm doing this for me.

I am not a shirt you try on,
and put back because you don’t think
it will work.

I am not a car you take on a test drive,
and leave with the dealer because you don’t like
how you look with me.

I am not a food sample at the food court that you take
to make the poor salesperson happy,
but spit me out later because my taste didn't suit you.

I am not an object,
not something you can spit out or put back.
I am a human being.

I'm trying to refrain from writing,
like I did when I had a monster in my life -
I don't want it to be a mistake,
and look back at how I was a fool
yet again.

Your face is in the trash at Walgreens,
because I printed out a group picture,
        and you were in it,
so I cut you out.

You don't deserve to be in my college
        photos folder
with all my good memories.
Maybe if you didn't think I was a liar
and if you were a little more caring,
your face wouldn't be in the trash at
        Walgreens.

I learned to never idolize again.
Never have another hero.
Idols and heroes,
they're only here to disappoint.

In a world of people who cheat
        and lie,
how should they be any different?
They lead me on
and leave me in the ditch.

I'm done with heroes,
done with idols.
Have to find new motivators,
those that are not living,
that cannot die.
Gotta work on my mind
and never idolize.

The yak-er said,
"Crushing on you so hard"

All I could think of was you.

I guess we should grow apart,
but I want to still have friendship
when my kids are young and run
around the earth
like electrons around a nucleus.
I want them to grow up knowing
        you,
knowing it's okay to befriend
people like you.

Violations,
no responses,
his fake kisses,
my hypnosis,
their absences,
my displacement,
the false judgment,
haunting flashbacks,
no acceptance.
They all own me
in this depression.

I'm like a sponge:
the more water,
the more I grow;
the more you squeeze,
the more I shrink.

I can handle the water,
I take what I can and brush off the rest.
I absorb what's needed
and can use that to help others
and apply it to my life.

But squeeze me like a ***** sponge,
everything pours out of me.
I can only take so much
before everything starts to flood -
everything that I ever kept in pours out.

I'm like a sponge.
I can take in a lot,
hold it all in,
but once you squeeze me,
get ready for a ***** flood.

If love never dies,
then what you had for me
was never love.

Anxiety is fun.
Loads of fun.

Freaking out over the life lost
that has nearly begun.

Heart pounding to the thought
of my teaching career in the future.

Freaking out about the great friends
I've made, and the man
I just started talking to.

Breaths shortening to the thought
of failing my first year.

I want to live, to achieve,
to not lose another, to succeed.

Why do I have to be so anxious…
about everything?

A kingdom of isolation,
and it looks like I’m the queen.
Standing frozen in the life I’ve chosen,
buried in the snow.

Don’t let them in, don’t let them see.
Be the good girl you always have to be.
Conceal, don’t feel, put on a show.
Make one wrong move and everyone will know.

Oh, I’m such a fool, I can’t be free!
No escape from the storm inside of me.
I can’t control the curse!

I can’t,
I - I don’t know how!

Please, you’ll only make it worse!
There’s so much fear!
You’re not safe here!

The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside.
Couldn’t keep it in, Heaven knows I tried.
Can’t hold it back anymore.
Turn my back and slam the door.
I know I left a life behind, but I’m too relieved to grieve.

Don’t let them in, don’t let them see.
Be the good girl you always have to be.
Conceal.
Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know.

Just stay away and you’ll be safe from me.

No!
I—I CAN’T!

My face is covered in salt
because of you.

My face is covered in salt

because of you.

If love never dies,

then what you had for me

was never love.

I'll see you once more,

call it quits.

The best part of this

is being able

to make a happy song

sad.

Choosing

to get to

know you

was the

biggest

mistake

I've made

in my life.

God tried to warn me,

and the devil tricked me.

Tears in the shower

caused by a friend,

would rather die

than be hurt again.

Not as innocent as once before,
yet just as pure as she’ll ever be.

Waking up with a smile,
so rare.
Tell me,
how do I do this
again?

You said you'd be there whenever I needed you,
but when I needed you most,
you never came through.

I know it's hard to understand the grieving I'm going through,
but you never tried to understand.

Instead, you just looked at me with judgment,
as if wanting to tell me,
"It was just a baby…move on with your life."

In all the weeks of your ignoring,
lack of talking,
I doubt highly
you won't recognize me
on this day of all
and wish me it spectacular.

Don't say I stopped being there for you…

Because I'll have you recall the numerous times
I heard you crying
and offered to be there
and asked you what you needed…

and all you did
was push me away.

Lost in a world where I found myself.
Adrift in a sea that brought me to my discovery.
Missing from mine own knowledge of myself.

Finding myself in a new, unknown world.
Learning me by learning others.
Discovering my mind in a place I’ve never been before.

Confused when I should know what I am, where I am,
                  who I am.
Disorganized where I should be able to find.
Puzzled with what I should understand.