The best part of this
is being able
to make a happy song
sad.

You cried,
and I held you in my arms.
Never wanted to let you go.

Tears of happiness,
the best kind of tears to shed,
built up in your eyes.

I wiped them away,
told you it'll be okay,
just praying for this to stay.

There are two places where I feel safe,
here, this very site,
and that room.

It's weird to say I feel safe in a room
such as that,
it's a classroom.

But it's the one of my hero,
so I guess it makes sense.
Right?

I don't know.
All I know is that when I'm in there,
like when I'm on here,
I want to spill everything.

I want to tell her of the
**** that wasn't ****,
but I know I shouldn't

because who wants to hear that?
And will I even have the guts
to use my vocal chords to say it?

Can I say it aloud?
I never even told her the real reason Kung Fu came to an end,
that ****** assault has been a common occurrence the past few years.

I can even see the awkwardness now.
She'd ask how it was but was not,
and I'd have to tell her how I let my innocence go, to an extent.
I said no ***,
but it went in,
his underwear being my savior.

I'll tell her how I'm leaving to the next tower,
because my roommate kicked me out,
even though she was the one who caused the problems.
I'll tell her that, no problem.

I'll tell her how my neighbors
are strangers who think they know me.
I'll tell her my excitement to leave all this.
I'll tell her that, no problem.

But how do I tell her of my assaulter?
I need to outwardly tell somebody,
and I need one of her hugs.
Maybe it'll slip out.

I want to tell her, though.
I want to tell a lot of people.
But do they want to hear it?
That's my question.

There are two places where I feel safe:
here,
and that classroom.

Why do people judge your name
        already?
You haven't even taken a breath yet.
You haven't even another half to you
        yet.

Your name is one of beauty,
one that shows strength.
It's like a jewel,
full of beauty, elegance, and
        strength.

Your name is after the one who
        fought and defeated my villains.
It's after the one who stood by me
when I stood alone on the sheet of
        ice
floating atop the melting sea.

I used to hate your name,
but the one it's after changed it all
        for me.
The one of the name gave me hope,
and I have hope for you.

Judgment is not necessary
for a name of a child unborn,
unconceived, unfathered.
A name is a name,
each with its own purpose,
its own story.

Your name is one dear to me,
a story I tell a whole lot,
one whose purpose is to give
        hope.

I cannot see myself
with anyone but you.

People can judge
and say all they want,

but I will never stop loving you.

I'm sorry
if I make you
uncomfortable.

The emptiness I feel
is so full of self-hatred,
I wonder if I'm even empty.

That drunken buzz
was enough to make
me never want to do
that again.

Everyone is so excited to hear
the baby is near...

but when the baby is here,
and the future isn't clear,

the number of people who steer
clear of your tears...

is larger than you'd fear.

Strangers never take the time to know me.
Assuming is all they do.

Whenever she talks,
it's about us.

That's where you're wrong,
because, unlike you, I don't talk about

people
I don't know.

Can't wait to be alone,
be away from it all.
Everyone's gone,
or we hate everyone,
or everyone hates us,
and we only have each other.
I only wish this could last forever.

We get the sun, the moon,
the stars, the clouds - all to ourselves.
No one can interrupt us.
No one's here to disturb us.
No one can tell us what to do.
Everyone's gone,
and we've got things to do.

Why don't I ever talk about things that
        stress me out?
Because you don't understand.
You think you do,
but I know you don't.

If you lived just one day as me,
you'd do the same thing.
In fact, I don't think you'd survive.
Maybe you'd finally understand,

finally understand that I'm not afraid
to drive,
not afraid
to get a job,
not worried
to live for myself.

I never take charge and do something
        when I feel uncomfortable?
I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you.
I was busy telling off
every creepy man who comes my way.
I was busy reporting him to the police.
I was busy telling administration
that the person who should be looking
        out for her students
just told me flat-out I'd be nothing.
I was busy standing up to my coach
who played me so much, I'm in chronic
        pain.
I was busy crying as you yelled at me
when I told you something that
happened to me that
made me uncomfortable.

I'm sorry you feel that I don't tell you
anything anymore even though
you're my "biggest supporter"
and I "know it."
It's not like every time I talk to you,
it ends in my tears.
Sorry, "biggest supporter,"
that I don't feel comfortable
talking to you.

I felt very-well supported
when I told you you made me
uncomfortable because you make me
feel like a failure,
and you yelled at me and told me to
        get my act together
as you told me it's my decision,
not yours,
to do anything or not do anything.

Here's one of my many
flaws:

I'll be mad at you for months and
months,

then I see you
once,

and my anger
disappears.

Your welcoming
smile

brings me back to easier
days

and warmer
times.

I forget
assault,

throw away the
drama,

drop the
changes,

and leave behind the
stress.

Then I leave like nothing made me
mad

to begin with.  No
communication

is like nothing.  A
part

of me is quite
peeved,

while most of me has taken
forgiveness

without the other part's
consent.

I hate feeling this way.
It eats me alive.

I’m gonna do it.
I’m gonna hit ‘send.’
Hit ‘send.’
Just hit ‘send.’
Send.
Sent.

We finished talking;
no more words to say,
no more time to spare.
Yet I still had a story to tell,
but time was gone.

What I wanted to share was far
        too graphic, far too heavy,
to be told before parting.
An eagle can't swoop to the lake
to scare the fish.
It must complete its task
and take its time.
If you only have time to scare,
you don't have time to spare,
save the story if you care.

I haven't felt this way
since the witch took my smile away.
I've gone back to the negativity,
stepped back into the doubt, fallen
        back to empty.
Even though I've removed myself
        from toxic air,
the fumes absorbed through my hair,
and into my mind as it traveled.

Nostalgia creeps around every
        corner.
The smell of the fresh, cold spring air
puts me in a familiar field within.
The sweet songs of songbirds
pull me back to my days as an
        observer, a watcher of nature.

But the field is nowhere in sight,
the birds are here, but the grass is
        not.
I cannot tell where I stand anymore,
I stand straight in air that I've known,
thinking it's one I left behind.

Emptiness has never been dropped
upon my head this early in
Earth's rebirth.
Nostalgia is a killer,
and I am its victim.

I visited and it happened again.
I grew excited and saw who I needed to see,
for the most part,
but I always forget that a visit
requires an end -
I would have to leave at some time.

Why do you care about me?
I'm nothing like you.

I can take something of yours
and put it against you.

I'm gonna take what you love most
and put an end to it.

It's been four days,
going on five.
Where are you?

All we know
is we want to be
each other's firsts.

Don't tell me
you put me first
if in reality
you put me last.

You don't deserve to hear my stories.
Your one-word responses
and interest in my life for just five
        minutes,
they are not getting you anything.

The few years I knew you were great,
but I wonder if they were a lie.
You said you cared, and you were
        there.
But now that I'm older,

you can't spare a care?
Can't spare a helping hand
or helping word?
I thought you were there

like you said you were.
I might see you tomorrow in passing,
but don't expect a great story…
you're gonna hear what everyone else
        hears…

which, I'm sure, is what you want.

Today,
I put a lot of thought into my future,
dreamed of new dreams,
have myself looking forward
to more than just one thing.
And, most of all,
I just don't feel like crying anymore.

Every night
I hear birds sing
in my head
I hear you call for me.

thanks for putting me
back in my depression.
some friend you are.

This is where it ends,
this is where it all begins.

I remember when you said
you'd be there
and would help make my life
"a little easier down the road."

Now you never talk to me
and my care for you has dwindled
into nothingness.

I'll see you once more,
call it quits.

If you think I’m a liar,
you can kiss this goodbye.

You say I’m your favorite,
and that we’re great friends,

but when something has scarred me,
a great friend supports
without question.

Have you ever supported me?
No.

So get out.
Get out of my life.

I'm going to tell you everything.

From thinking of a cut of the hair
to the monster I bared
for that single month of toxic air.

I'm going to tell you everything.

You're the biggest **** I've ever met,
and you think you're a saint.

I know the truth behind it all,
but I swore I would not tell.
I just hope that someone takes the fall,
the one who pushed too well.

I know the truth behind it all,
I know the lie that hath been told.
I don’t know why I have to hold,
because the lie hurt more than this ever will.

I am too strong to my word, but keep it in I will.
Just know that when it gets too far, I will spill.
I want no more tears to fall,
I want peace for all.

No more lies to tell,
no more secrets to keep in my well.
I know the truth behind it all,
and I cannot just watch her fall.

I'm gonna tell you how I feel
and pray you still feel the same too.

If you just knew how much you hurt me.
All of you, the ones who brought me emotional
        harm,
and you few, the ones who brought me physical
        pain.

You abused me, and you know it.
You won't see you're wrong-doing,
but you know your actions.

I just wish you knew what you did,
what you brought to me,
what you caused me.

When I teach you,
I'll try to be kind.

I'll keep your dreams in mind,
and try my best to keep their
        breaths.

When I teach you,
I will hold your hand till the time is
        right,

and I know you can do it on your
        own.
And if you need me, for work or for
        safety,

know I'll always be there.
Because when I teach you,

it goes you then me,
you have dreams ahead while I live
        mine.

When I teach you,
I'll try to keep your dreams alive.

So afraid we lost touch
and too afraid to try again.

You told me three days ago
you'd talk to me tomorrow.

Well, that was just another one of your lies,
infamous lies.

I care a lot about you.
I am interested in you.
We'll talk tomorrow.

All lies.
All you ever told me were lies.

Am I doing myself a favor by
        doing this?
Will talking to you again make
        this more bearable?
This depression I've been
        bearing
with me over my weak shoulder,
it's been eating me alive.

I'm failing and I'm scared.
Some people tell me it's my fault,
but they don't know my story.
People who know it
know why
I am the way I am.
My depression was not something
       I chose,
it was something he gave me.

And after a month of not talking to
        you,
is it worth the aggravation?
Maybe this is liberating?
Is this what the light looks like?
I'll let you know when I find out.