My problem is that I give.
I give until I have nothing left,
and then when I’m a fraction of myself,
I wonder why this is.
My problem is that I love.
I love without so much as a thought
of being loved back, and then when
they don’t love me back, I’m heartbroken.
They teach you about drugs;
pills, powder, injections.
They teach you about alcohol,
and its addiction.
But they didn’t teach me about that need,
inside of me to fit in, to be seen.
They didn’t tell me it’d chew me up,
and spit me out.
See, they didn’t tell me about love,
or giving until you have nothing left
in hopes of fitting in, in hopes
of feeling something so magical
it’s like you’re drowning.
So I gave until there was nothing left,
and they took without so much as a thought about their theft.
And I loved, loved until I thought I’d run out,
wasting it on people who didn’t care or deserve it.
That’s my problem.

The pain seeps out in flashes of insanity
I do not doubt you love me
Though I will always wonder why
In my shattered self-image
In my innate ability to be unseen
Was born an adolescent desire
A desperate need
A yen to be quenched of doubt
To be noticed
To be seen
Both within and without
In that longing to be alive
To be sure that I am a tangible being
In that way I push limits
I test boundaries like a child
Taxing the last nerve of an exhausted parent
Pushing hard until something breaks
Proving I matter enough
Or proving I can bend reality
Until I matter not
To anyone
For surely there is a reason I remain
Unseen
Unheard
Invisible
Intangible
Irrelevant
And Unnoticed
So I push when I'm hurt
Because you promised you won't leave
And I believe you
You said I meant everything I always wanted to mean to someone
And I believe you
You said you'd do anything and everything it takes to make me smile
And I believe you
The pain seeps out in flashes of insanity
I test boundaries like a child
Not because I doubt you
Because I need to always believe

Whatever happened to the moments
we lived for
the moments we lived from
electrifying lives
currents of passion
high voltage that knew no resistance

what do I have to do?
to feel the surge
to feel the spark
to feel alive again?

Is it in the tomes?
Is it in the songs?
Do the muses hold it in the walls?
Is it inside of me?

Searching for the switch
to send me back to passion
To make me feel charged again
to make me feel in charge again

Walks in silence like a ghost
Never to be seen nor heard
The voices swirling around her head like a vortex consuming her every thought.

Wishing for the chaos to cease as she
reaches for your hand
But you can't see he pain you cause
or the ghost by your side slowly going mad
As she alone wanders the world, without  a place amongst the living

Thoughts of you became the island of peace in the sea of chaos that had taken place within in my mind.