"Yeah."
...
The follow up questions,
"Was there a note?"
Yeah.
"Did you have something to do it with?"
Yeah.
Next to the notebook.
That boring blue notebook.
It didn't start out like that.
It was a ******* admissions essay.
But it ended up like that.
...
Then I got up.
And got it.
Laid it on the table.
And looked at them together.
...
For a while.
...
Then I think I walked out.
And went back to sleep.
...
I hid them before anybody say.
I don't want any of this,
To sound like a cry for help.

I'll ask softly for that.
Or lay down by myself.

Until we're in love.
We'll throw anybody under the bus.
Until we find the person we can't
So we throw ourselves.

"Bear with me here. I'm no Oscar Wilde.
But when I read your writings I get sad.
Forgive me, but I figure you're sad.
You speak of heroes and villains as if either is a direction.
Not all bad guys are all bad.
And the same the other way.
You have no idea who you are.
But you can't just decide that.

You look like a human Superman.
Clark Kent.
Brilliant. Reserved.
Official in a suit.
Intelligent around everyone.
But you're hiding something.
That's brash. But you aren't being honest.
With yourself or absolutely anyone around you.
And it's forming you into a human brick wall.
You won't find yourself.
Sitting there like a ******* wall.
You gotta form into yourself.
Answer your own questions.
And anyone else's.
I figure you will.
In your own time.
I mean obviously.
But if you want to...
You can start with me.
I can help.
But I can only help if you're honest."

I wrote about you being guarded.
That you were holding your sword close to your chest.
I said let's start lunging.
Then I looked at mine.
Here next to my face.
In front of my heart.
If someone has to start swinging wildly,
I guess I should be me.

Here's my point.
If we don't start lunging.
And falling.
And getting cut.
And living.
We'll stand here alone.
On opposite corners of the world.
A thousand miles.
Or a foot apart.
So before we turn into stone.
Before the marble smiles start sticking.
Before they start cracking.
And we fall apart before our time.
Let's fall on our own.

Before we we have careers.
And swolAnd swollen joints.
Or get paid to be smart.

Let's be really, really stupid.
And swing wildly.
And run off without any plans,
Or reservations.
Crash parties.
*** joints.
Or get paid to be smart.

Let's be really, really stupid.
And swing wildly.
And run off without any plans,
Or reservations.
Crash parties.

I'm gonna tell you all the little things.
That are keeping me afloat.
"Did those intake forms all by myself today."
"Made a kick *** breakfast today."
"The chef said the funniest **** today."
"Dude I found a sick playlist today."
No they're not that important.
But I'm making a raft out of them.
And it hurts.
And my hands are tired.
And I'm almost out of rope.

If this falls apart.
And it might.
At least I yelled.
And someone knew I was here.
Because I sure can't see anyone.

Well, we could tell ghost stories.
Or we could tell the really scary ones.
What makes you?
What broke you and made you?
Can I hold you and feel the scars?

This might be a new chapter.
I can almost feel,
A growing fire.

Things are awful dark here.
But I can almost see,
A glow on the wall.

It's strange, I know.
But I can almost hear.
Someone coming.

I've been lost here,
A long ******* time.
But I know,
It's almost time to go.

Where there's a light there's a lantern.
A hand to hold it,
A hand to hold mine,
And pull me out.
Not cold like the one that dropped me here,
But warm and strong.
From the light she's carried so long.