I have a shelf in my heart where I put those lost-sigh loves.
but I cannot trust myself as an empath because I wish too hard for them to come off the shelves.
I feel betrayed by my intuition because none of what I loved and hoped for came true.
I am lost and desperate, looking to my ex to hold me and show me the way because she's the most familiar face in a crowd of people who do not care.
I still want to reach out and touch because I don't know what else to do with myself.
I would put her on the shelf of "you'll always have my heart" but that shelf is too often knocked from the wall by loves who won't stay static.
The straight girl cannot let me hold her without me savoring her scent and then remembering that this same action does not make her heart stop as it does mine.
The geek boy cannot let me be or else I'll panic and all it takes is a smile to calm me down.  But then I remember that I'll never see his **** again because my heart got in the way.
And she, she is nice to me now than she ever was, but maybe that's because I expect less of her. I don't know if I sense her pain or just hope that she too, still feels.
She snaps at me that it can't be changed, but
what does that mean?
Do I try to be nice?
Do I still dream of a happy ending?
Can I be happy alone in my room with nothing but my knick-knacks to bring me joy?

Are there stars on your ceiling tonight?
Does the moonlight reflect from the snow as you, I, and all the wonderful people who feel too much wander in the cold, wishing to no longer be lonely?
Please tell em the cold hasn't frozen those thoughts in limbo,
Please tell me your primal instinct hasn't been quelled.
I found you, in the dangerzone, while I was trying not to jump.
Trying not to say something stupid, to not be that same coward for fear of rejection and my own thoughts.
I had wanted to scream and break open my chest to show my feelings,
Hoping someone would understand and fix me and hold me together.
It is in that feeling that we are not alone.
It is true that we may never catch the sunlight,
But the Japanese have a word for the way the sun shines through the trees and that is beautiful.
We cannot never be alone, we cannot fly
But we can find words, and share them,
and hold each others' hands across a bridge over time and space,
Made of words
Without knowing, but with full understanding
And take a more fulfilling plunge.

I used to believe in fairytales,
but I failed in making one.
My fairytale came,
but I'd stopped dreaming.
I'd made myself a good, real life
but some dreams change everything.
I can't live without sleep,
but to only sleep is to die.
I can only do so much when awake.
I can't achieve goals in my sleep.
I love life but I'm not a machine.
I love dreams but I'm no longer a child.
Reality isn't bad, and I can't leave it,
but let me sleep, let me dream.
I'm only here for so long.

Hold me in this moment
Let all I feel be love
Let this moment last forever.
Long live love

I still worship you
But there's a sickness I've acquired
My mind turns against me.
Shield me.

I am hollow inside
My organs lay scattered
There is rotting all around me
Save me

There is darkness in my being
I must protect you
I must protect myself
Help me

With you I can be better
Quickly! Turn away from the world.
I fear I am crumbling
Stay with me

I am weak and corrupt
You are bright
You still love me
Heal me

I fear what this pain would do to you
I was exposed and corrupted
I need to be accepted
Love me

I don't want to fail
Life only makes sense with you
Daring not to think of when it ends,
Long live love

The creature sat in the back of a room in the middle of a mind behind the ribs and looked around.
Around it was its own coagulating, dark liquid substance, like a cowl over its skull-like intangible head.  
Claws scratching from the inside out, digging from the outside in for release, to be vulnerable, so that perhaps someone could truly love it.
Ripping open the cheeks, stomach, chest of another, searching for itself, for another pair of bottomless dark eyes to look into, and crying.
The body needs to be crushed and destroyed before the soul can be free, there isn’t another creature just like it for miles and the other shells failed.
But to rip open to release the creature it loves, it would have to ****.
So it’ll just **** itself or else drown in the posion of another and hope it doesn’t live to see the repercussions of its actions.
self destructing, salting its wounds with another's lips, cracking itself open against a wall, waiting in a tower to be rescued, no one wants to save the knight.
let the darkness grow and then saving the light wont matter
drown in the devil to lose the fear of preserving a soul already too tainted,
let it fester. the creature just wants to sew the outer skins together and live with another but there isnt another creature.
it met one once, but that one harmed it in a bad way, but maybe thats what it deserved.
drown the fear in hurt and it wont have to be strong
the darkness oozes and burns and pleases in self delusion.
It wanted to be free but now it's lost and blind and vulnerable and it will have to harm in order to be rectified, verified, loved.
Maybe some things are better left hidden away.

You wrote a poem that made me want to cry,
a blue moon occasion of risk and shown feelings.
A love poem in response would be too overdone for me
and perhaps it'd seem an obligatory exchange.
You know I love you but only so many lines can be written
and I've run out of new words to excite you.
If I could I'd just hold you to show how I feel,
but I'll go slightly against my decision and write you a poem to thank you
or at least acknowledge these feelings
and then for once, I'll end up the awkward one.

SO you decided to read my rant.
So why am I writing a rant?
Because I'm an angsty teenager, but my life is good so I'll write a semi-anonymous poem and maybe if someone reads it I'll think I matter or that I'm not that alone.
The funny thing is, I rarely read the poetry of others, but I expect others to read mine.
I have an entire book that few will read and yet I expect to get somewhere in life.
But I have food and good grades and loving friends and a girlfriend, so my life is good.
My life is good, but good leaves no room for the future.
I am afraid that I can't go on like this and one day it will all crash down on me.  
I don't want to be a drama queen, but I don't want to hole myself up.
I feel these extremes and try to even them out.
I don't want to be like my mother.
My mother is in my ear complaining about all that I do and though I'm afraid that those I love will leave me, I'm afraid she never will.
She's moving with me to the state in which the college that she so optimistically says will accept me is situated.
I'm afraid I'll never have a healthy relationship or know how to function.
I'm afraid of having no family, but I don't know how a good family works.
She is so much of me I don't know which of our feelings I feel.
I don't know what of me is real.
I try to stay down to earth but she sends me reeling and yet brings me down to where I belong.
I'm an all or nothing girl, but that's a bad habit I learned from my mother who screams for milk at mild spice and cries hysterically over people she claims to hate.
I try to be my own person, but as an only child, my companion has always been my own mind which means I became too much of the world around me, and thus not enough of an original person.
I feel that even the one thing I've always been praised for (my writing, and thus my mind,) has only been praised to fill the awkward silences after an unimportant person tries too hard.
I debated about not writing this because I was afraid that I write too often and that it amounts to too little.  
I always use that adjective about myself: "too."  I've said before though that in my case it should be said as "tew" as in "too much of that which is ew" and then I think of all that I am not, but rather, "nawt" (not enough of that which makes people say "aw")
I'm an all or nothing girl but I try to live in the middle grounds.  
I like something or I don't but I don't obsess.
I know where I want to be in life and will fight tooth and nail to get there, but I fear I may end my life if I am unable.
The funny thing is I don't seek fame, or riches, I just want something that wouldn't be so **** out of reach if I wasn't who I am.
I just want to get my phd in veterinary medicine and marry a wonderful girl and live without too many bills piling up.
But I still have trouble spelling veterinary even though I'm almost a straight A student but almost straight A isn't good enough to pay for my education.
Because I'm too white, not quite poor enough, not quite skilled enough, not noticeable enough.  
I'm just close enough to the norm that people expect I fit in somewhere so they leave me all behind, leaving me with nowhere to fit in.
They all think someone else will help me until no one does.
So I search for the people whom I can make feel special and I throw myself at them praying to feel like I belong, but it never quite feels real.
I want to crack into people and find whats real about them, show them all of my all too real flaws, but inside their shells are likable things, and I am like tamarind: too sweet, in need of salt and spice, and strange to harvest for flesh.  I could be useful, but there's always something not quite right.
I know everything I do is not quite right and sooner or later someone will pull the plug.  
And leave me.
And I'll be left alone, writing or reading or crying or sleeping.
I wanted to record my voice saying this, but I knew that people would be even less likely to notice my words then.  
I'm not the person whose writing wins awards, I'm not the plucky student whose hard work earns scholarships.
I fall between the cracks because I'm too good to deserve pity and not good enough to deserve praise.
I tried to draw to spare you all from this stupid rant but though I liked the shape of a few lines, they meant nothing.
Maybe that's my problem, that I seek meaning in everything.
That I can't make anything of meaning.
I don't know why anyone bothers with me.
I feel like they're lying to me.
I'm nobody.
I'm an all or nothing girl, but I'm either too much or not enough and that means I'm in between.
I am the or in either or, in yes or no, in succeed or fail.  
I would be happy with that if it meant that I could just get the few things I want in life, but even that is too much to ask for someone who's not eloquent enough, not charismatic enough, not good enough to get there.
I know this feeling won't stay, because I'll bounce back to the opposite extreme of loving life.
I'm an all or nothing girl and even though I know in a lot of ways I have it all, right now, I'm feeling nothing.
And I'm afraid these feelings won't leave me.