life is nothing but a huge game of cards.  the drawing pile is a new chance, and the discard pile bunch of stale second chances that were once taken. the cards you have in your hand are what you currently posses, and you most likely are not happy with the order they've come to you in.  when someone asks for one of your cards, despite not enjoying yourself with it, you're hesitant to give away your card, as if you've grown attached to the way the cards laid out in front of you are arranged.  if you gave it away, everything would be a little bit off balance, and it might take you a while to readjust yourself to the new card. once you finally do give it away, you realize you made the wrong decision.  you figure that if you rearrange your set of cards completely, you could begin forming a new norm, and be on your way to winning the game.  you frantically begin giving your cards away to the other players and keep drawing cards from the pile of new chances. somewhere along the way you lost yourself in the game, and all your cards disappeared, and just like that, the game is over.

the wrapper of the chocolate i ate to try to cope with the dreaded feeling you left me with told me to "follow my heart".
there's a problem with me following my heart, though.
what if my heart is going backwards? what if it's doing flips? am i supposed to follow it into the depths of god knows where? what if it tells me to go up, even though it knows i'm scared of heights? what if it tells me to go across the ocean, when it knows that's my biggest fear? why should i chase something that will only cause me to hurt myself, whether it be my actual heart, or what my heart wants me to chase?
my heart was taken onto a plane that goes 30,000 feet in the air over an ocean.
i'm afraid of heights,
and i'm terrified of the ocean.
i guess i'm too afraid to follow my heart.

maybe the tight feeling in my chest is a reminder for me to breathe even though it's difficult to do with the words you so emptily used to describe the scars on my wrist in the back of my head i didn't think i'd make it out alive there was just so much blood you had me in your jaws like a snake has a mouse but i somehow managed to slip away from you long enough to do more damage to myself than you ever could it ended up exactly the way i thought it would as beautiful as i thought you were you really were the death of me

my bed
is far
too vast
with out
you laying
right next
to me

i was so happy with his arm around me on that ***** couch and with the satisfaction of raising my mother’s blood pressure tucked away in the pit of my stomach
“your parents are going to hate me”
we bumped noses and it really hurt but the feeling of his soft lips against mine made up for it completely
his septum ring became interlaced between our mouths so i pulled away and fixed it for him and he just stared at me with the green eyes he apparently isn’t complimented on often which is a complete wonder to me and i don’t really know if i believe it
“he doesn’t look a thing like jesus but he talks like a gentleman like you imagined when you were young”
actually he has a beard like jesus but maybe it isn’t as scruffy and his hair isn’t long but he’s the most beautiful human being i’ve ever seen
his weight on my chest didn’t hurt as much as i thought it would but he grabbed my neck with more force than i expected him to and it caught me off guard but the kiss made up for it again the colors of the room faded as i closed my eyes and melted into him
i guess you could say we were kind of like fondue because we both became puddles of human and love
but all puddles eventually dry up

my life is nothing but a series of constant waiting. waiting in line, waiting for the band, waiting for the boy, waiting for dinner, waiting for 1 am so i can drink myself to sleep when i'm kept up at night thinking about the future even though i'm stuck in the past. but you know what? i'm ******* tired of waiting. i'm 17 and i want to live like every other 17 year old. happiness isn't something i should have to wait for. so that line i'm "supposed" to be waiting in? i'm not supposed to do anything, it's my ******* life and i don't have to wait in a ******* line if i don't want to. that boy i'm waiting for? i can kiss that dream goodbye, it's the last thing i'll be kissing for a while. i don't want to sit by the phone to wait for a call that may or may not come through. i refuse to wait any longer. i've waited long enough. living doesn't happen by waiting. living happens by living.

i swear she was the most beautiful plague i'd ever been fortunate enough to catch

you're all you truly have and if you aren't true to you then when everyone else leaves you and you realize you were living a lie you won't be able to distinguish reality from the dream you were living in

I normally don't go to parties on week night but if I hadn't seen you last Thursday night I never would've known I didn't like hazel eyes. I'll  allow you to whisper sweet nothings into my ear but I don't want to look at you because it's hard to pretend to like the color of your eyes. they're a muddy swamp that surely has some sort of decaying carcass of another girl you once killed with them hidden behind the dark iris. I don't know why but i wanted you to touch my body even though I knew you were killing me and you didn't even know who I was. the sober spirit inside me is supposed to be stronger than my intoxicated character but I spent all night kissing you, being careful to keep my eyes closed or else I was sure id meet my demise and become just another decrepit body masked my your seemingly gentle eyes. I can't even believe I somehow managed to stay the whole night with a mass murderer with the fully loaded weapons in a room in a house that I'd never been in. I didn't want to kiss you again because you tasted of  stale american beer and cheap menthol cigarettes. that night was  meaningless but I stayed because I guess I just had one too many but when I woke up next to you I wanted your awful taste out of my mouth and your skin as far away from mind as possible. we don't know each others names and we never will because it doesn't matter to me enough to know your name.  I still don't like the color of your eyes and I never wanted your sweet nothings because that's all they are. nothing.

i'm beyond sick of acting like i'm happy for people. i'm not happy for them. i'm not happy at all. every single day i simply go through the motions of the same boring routine rather than actually dance through life like all the happy people. do you know how hard it is to choke back your tears everyday because you have to be strong? do you know how hard it is to hold everything in because nobody gives a single **** about how you feel, all because of the way you look of dress of act or express yourself. if i was a little skinnier and maybe a little prettier, everyone would want to make sure i was okay. they'd want to be invested in **** they have no point in knowing and then try to play it off like they actually cared. today's society is completely superficial and i'm over it. if a "regular" person was suicidal, they'd be told to lay down and drink some water or tell themselves that they can get better, just to change their state of mind. the likelihood of one of the "socially accepted" people getting attention for suicidal feelings is much higher. i'm sick of people not caring. i'm sick of people not paying attention to anyone but themselves.
it just really hurts.
i'm sorry.

i miss you and i really really really ******* wish i didnt

"...maybe that's why i'm completely numb to it or maybe my heart is as cold as i think it is and i just didn't realize it but i'm unaffected by the death of the flowers you gave me that followed with the metaphorical death of us"

the hickey you gave me lasted longer than we did

i hope you're ok

i miss her and it's making me so ******* sick