I wonder what story I will become when this is all done
I’ve heard so many stories of your past loves(kind)/endeavors(unkind)
I’ve heard about all the things they did wrong
Why they weren’t right for you
I’ve heard “crazy” and “lost” and “weird”
I’ve heard about the one who wrote you a song that made you weep
I’ve heard about the one that got away
I’ve heard about the one who screamed while she shattered a picture of you two on your driveway
The one who lost herself to drugs and clubbing
The one who kissed you between her pet rat
These are such interesting/hurt stories/people

I wonder what story I’ll be
when I can no longer be a person

I wonder if it will include what we did to your girlfriend.
I know it won’t.

I wonder if you’ll tell them I was a drunk, or bad at communicating, or too quiet, or that I had a crazy ex husband. Maybe you’ll say I kept too many secrets, and forced you to apologize when you didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe you’ll tell them I had a beautiful voice but was mentally unwell.

I wonder if you’ll tell them I was soft and addicting.

If you’ll mention how painful it was to yearn so hard
and how desperately we needed to kiss.
Maybe you’ll say I was always kind and forgiving even when you didn’t deserve it.
You could tell them how I would melt into your hands when you touched my face
or how I gave great *******
Maybe you’ll tell them I was a writer, but you didn’t get to see most of the notes I wrote you
Maybe in my story, I came out of nowhere and ruined your life
Maybe I left and broke your heart
or you broke mine

Maybe I’ll pretend
that you tell them you were awestruck
that you fell so hard and fast you didn’t know what to do with yourself
that of the many(kind)/many(unkind) stories/women you’ve collected
none affected you quite like I did
I’ll pretend my story is one of real love
One of those not-like-the-others stories
That of all the girls you’ve called special, I was the actual special one (for sure)
an aching puncture in your heart you’ll never heal
a girl you could have had, but lost

Maybe I’ll pretend
But I bet my story will be simple
I think you’ll talk of a summer situationship
who had way too many cats

I don’t think you’ll even use my name



(I hate being another story)

It is 11:30 at night, and I wreak of essential oils
I believe I must be some sort of ethereal goddess to smell so good
I am ******
But I massage my body from top to bottom in unscented lotion and gently cover each body part in warn socks, sweater, sweat pants because
I am ******
I paint my nails and heat up a rice bag for my neck
I stretch out my muscles
I am happy with myself
I wonder why I am only happy with myself when I am ******

In words
I am blind folded in a room and people are or are not standing around me
Either way, I cannot feel them**
In other words
I am missing a wire in my brain, the one that is shared between two people
It sparks when you make a connection with someone, a potential
Mine was never installed
That is
I have become such good friends with myself over the years
We are bored now and need a new playmate
So basically
I have taken the time to try and be “friend” but it never works
I know because I’m never invited to the late night McDonald’s trip unless I’m in the room
In plainer terms
I feel I have a presence that turns people away
With a glance they decide they cannot be my friend
Simply put
I think I’m lonely
And seriously lacking interpersonal skills

I woke up feeling lost today
Head was heavy, sky was grey
Rolled out of bed and didn't pray
Today

And as I rolled, my head rolled too
It fell right off, as some heads do
I picked it up and tried to move
Today

Throughout the day it dragged behind
And tried in vain to fill my mind
With every fact and every line
Today

My head and I, we took a test
And after it had done it's best
It turned to me and said,
"We should have stayed in bed
for I cannot seem to find the rest
Today.''

He was the night sky
so dark and alone
but he held stars within his bones
He was the ocean
mysterious and deep
sinking his boxes of secrets to keep
He was a war
at battle with life
falling in love with the world and a knife
He was a lover
he was a friend
and someone I hope will find peace in the end

And as he leaves me with his words of wisdom
His blessing
I am expelling every sound he utters away from myself
I flinch from his touch
A pat on the back is like acid on my skin
In his presence I am forced to tape myself up
Whether it is to keep myself from exploding or from falling apart I still don't know
But there are times when my pieces begin to shake and quiver so violently that I start to leak and a storm rages in my head while the rain escapes through my eyes
It is in that moment that I scream at him to leave, without making a sound
And it scares me that he knows what I look like naked
because he has stared at women with my same body on the internet and has drooled over the same curves and lumps that I have
And it scares me how he can sound so sane. So sane that he convinces himself that he is stable
And it scares me that no one but me and my mother will ever truly understand how distorted his thought process is
All this fear and anger sit, rotting inside my stomach and at the center of the mass of hate, there is a spot of sadness for the good dad that left when I began to understand the things a young child should not be able to understand

I would not ever, could not ever, settle for less than perfect
I will not show nor will you know until I think it's worth it
Now look at me and you may see a girl who knows her stuff!
A  go-getter who's talented and has no “good enough”

I would not ever, could not ever settle for less than perfect
The things I do to make it so, are things you don't suspect!
And when I find the things I do don't add up to the top
I start to cry and want to die and wish that it would stop

I would not ever, could not ever settle for less than perfect
At night I sometimes take a blade when I know I'm not worth it
I tried to stop the panic once, when I did something wrong
But ended up with stitches on my scars so red and long

All because I would not, could not settle for less than perfect