looking at you makes me feel so ******* sick but i would rather feel nausea because of you than nothing at all

you were fire and i'm deathly afraid of fire but i needed something to light my cigarette with i only wanted to smoke one but you insisted i smoke them all and lit the entire pack on fire and you caught some of my sweater with it and you burned me whenever it looked like you were going out you would come back even stronger than before and as much as i wanted to break away from you i couldn't, i was addicted to you and i was already burned anyway so what difference would it make i ******* wish i listened to my friends when they told me not to play with fire because you're always going to get burned but i guess i was okay with the risk of getting burned because it was only for one ******* cigarette but i don't smoke anymore

i hope you're ok

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

i don’t care if you’ll never see this. but if you do, here’s what i was thinking about last night.
i love you.
i can’t take it anymore.  i’m so head over heels, i’ve fallen harder for you than anyone, i just cannot ******* act like i haven’t anymore.  you’re the definition of perfection, the epitome of greatness, the quintessence of beautiful, all of the above, everything, and anything.  i get jealous whenever i see other girls, or even guys talking to you.  i just want to be with you all the time, or at least talking to you.  it’s so hard to express over a simple text post but i’m going to try to.  i wish i could just be able to go up to you everyday and kiss you without even thinking about it.  you’re amazing.  i’ve told you this before but you, first of all, don’t believe me, and second, don’t think it of me, so i can’t tell you to your face.  if i could, i would.  if i could just have all of you all the time i’d never ask for anything else.
it seems as though “starring role” by marina and the diamonds is a very fitting song.  you tell me sweet things (sometimes) when i’m fully clothed but when i get undressed you say them more often.  you don’t have anyone right now, and even though that goes against what the song is portraying, i’m still not the “starring role in your heart”.  
i swear if you were to stay here things would be different but considering that can’t happen, we’ll most likely never know.  my heart breaks just thinking about it, i can’t even bother to, or the salty tears from my eyes will break my keyboard, there’s just so many of them.
i just don’t want to lose anyone else.  and if whatever is between us is strong enough to withstand that much of a distance, who knows what could happen.
the funny thing is that once i realized how hard i fell for you, all the past relationships and heartbreaks and current “crushes” or thoughts of flirting, or just even looking at anyone else in a lustful manner just seemed to fade away, and it all happened so suddenly.
if you never see this, oh well.  you’ll eventually find all of this out.  
and if you do, at least now you know.
if nothing ever came of us, just remember this.  you’re my best ******* friend, whether or not i fell for you.  if you never feel the same way i completely understand, i probably wouldn’t feel that way about me either.  whatever you do in life, i hope it makes you happy.  i hope good things come your way, and i hope everything works out for you in the end.  you deserve nothing less than perfection, so don’t ever settle for anything.  
keep in mind that i’m going to be here every second of everyday, most likely thinking about you and hoping you’ll be doing the same about me.  i’m never going to forget you, and i pray almost every night that you’ll never forget me.  you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  you’re the reason that i’m typing this right now, actually, because if it wasn’t for you i’d be in a casket buried six feet under.
always remember that i love you and i always will, whether you’re here or not.
now is a good time to put my knowledge of pierce the veil lyrics to use.
so, in a literal sense…
without you, there is no me.

poverty has been a persistent problem all throughout the world for more than one reason.  it can be passed down, but in some instances it can be brought upon somebody because of a loss of a job or a mental illness.  i almost got emotional when i was listening to/watching the presentation, as i could never imagine living that way.  we take so much for granted.  knowing we can type this blog post from the comfort of our home on our macbooks or hp laptops is so overlooked because we've been graced with this technology since the beginning of our time.  we wouldn't be writing this blog post on our macbooks if we weren't in school, which to us is a necessity.  i just spelled necessity wrong, but my imac autocorrected it for me.  people living below the poverty line don't have autocorrect to tell them when they've messed something up.  they can't go to school to learn how to spell necessity, because they can't afford it.  i just drove my bmw to dunkin' donuts to grab some free coffee with an app on my iphone 6 and eat some $1.69 hash browns that my mom gave me some spare change for.  if you're below the poverty line, none of that would be in your agenda. an extra 5 dollar bill wouldn't just be laying around to go waste on something you honestly don't need.  it could be going towards the food you'll be eating for the next week or a new shirt because you outgrew the single one that you owned previously. i know personally, i get angry when i don't have enough gas in my car to get me somewhere that i honestly don't have to go to, or when i spend the last few dollars of my paycheck on an overpriced drink at Starbucks.  i will be the first to admit that i am absolutely, completely, 100% spoiled rotten but i am more than lucky to be able to get an education, have a job that i love and look forward to going to, and have a family that would give me the world if they could.  when you have family, you will always make it through.  none of us have any idea how good we have it, and i think it's about time we realize how lucky we are to live in the country we do.

i think of the romantics as the hippies of society. not that there's anything wrong with sitting in a VW van in a field of sunflowers listening to the Beatles and smoking blunts all day and night, im totally the advocate for that, but is that all there is? there's so much more, and it isn't all sunshine and rainbows like they teach you in kindergarten, and that's one of the biggest problems with the education systems throughout the world these days. we're sheltered. we're sheltered to no end. what would the kid that didn't know anything about police brutality or a drug cartel do the first time when he was ready to emerge into the real world? he would ******* **** himself because he was sheltered. and then the mental illness factor comes in, what would his friends do? they'd never been exposed to that, they didn't even know such a thing was possible. because they were sheltered. maybe the kids in his neighborhood would begin to get the same thoughts and **** themselves too because they thought they were ******* crazy for thinking the way they were because nobody ever told them that mental illnesses are nothing to be ashamed of and they're treatable and they don't make you a bad person. what makes someone a bad person is lying to someone by telling them everything will always be okay, because everything won't always be okay. and that's realism.

i really don't know anymore.
these feelings lately have consumed me and put me in the mindset that all i'm doing to myself is simply screaming deeper and deeper into the depths of the ignorant darkness.  nobody can hear me. the louder my screams become, the more engulfed i become in the sea of eternal darkness, the sea of eternal darkness that has no shoreline. the sea of eternal darkness that no ocean liner dares to trek across.  screams can't be heard from the bottom of the ocean.  the ocean doesn't know it's swallowing you. the darkness doesn't know you want to let the light in.
wake up wake up wake up wake up
my body aches my head hurts my hands have blood on them
my legs are shaking my torso is cut a little bit too deep
my eyes are bloodshot my heart is at my feet
why did this happen why did it happen to me why did you do it why why why why
why did you have to hurt me why did you have to send that bullet straight through my ******* heart why did you have to make me feel worthless
who are you why did you have to do this to me
the sun isn't shining any longer my life is almo

i'm currently laying in my bed with tears in my eyes for the first time in as long as i can remember.  this feeling is far too familiar, and i didn't miss it at all.  it feels like one of those old friends you didn't mind not seeing anymore, you just sort of accepted their absence.  although this isn't a friend; it never has been nor will it ever be.  it's a foe, and alter ego, and as wretched as it is to say, it's truly my former self.  i've heard countless times the phrase "the hardest thing to endure is watch the one you love, love someone else", but there is a bit of deceit behind it.  in my personal opinion, the hardest thing to endure isn't having the one you love, love someone else, but just simply knowing they don't love you back.  any person could possess their heart, while at the same time, they posses yours.  it's a dreadful feeling, really.  it's consuming, and with the consumption comes emptiness.  the emptiness is what sits in the pit of your stomach.  it's a contradiction, i guess you could say.  lately i've become nothing but a contradiction.  in the words of an anonymous novelist, a "fatal contradiction", which frightens be down below the contradictory emptiness in the pit of my stomach, goes through my blue veins, creeps into my fingertips, which act as puppets by making their way up to their controller, beginning to claw at their puppeteer to make the thoughts stop.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
for one reason.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
for the same reason as every morning.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
because I dreamt of you.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
to see if you were still here.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
but I was alone in the mess of sheets.

I rolled out of bed
a little bit earlier
because I missed you.

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

caramel macchiato flavored coffee with mint cigarette flavored kisses with your dreamboat lover is the quintessence of what i call "perfection".  if there was a way to describe the way your lips feel against mine, i could only describe it as "cigarettes and coffee".  cigarettes and coffee isn't simply consuming caffeine or inhaling tobacco in your lungs, it's sitting on the roof at 1 am looking at the stars with a blanket around the both of you.  it's laying in the grass with a slight breeze blowing making smoke rings between the arduous kisses.  it's simply sipping a vanilla latte on the corner of a new york city street with a cigarette in your hand, making swirls of smoke as more ash forms above the filter,  looking like some sort of bohemian gods. it's walking along a deserted sidewalk in your black jeans and doc martens with a big t-shirt and coke bottle sunglasses on with your lover on your hip and your menthol in one hand and philter in another.  "cigarettes and coffee" is whatever you can interpret as pure bliss; it's simply whatever makes you happy and whatever makes you want to sit in the grass all night and talk about anything and everything.  there's a lot of people that would argue there's no beauty to the feel of tobacco in your lungs and arabica in your mouth, but evidently, they've never tried cigarettes and coffee.

i couldn't stop looking at this girl. i glanced down at my black leather jacket, black v-neck, ripped blue jeans, and black boots with the buckles on the side. i popped my collar and set out to find the girl i'd just found. i noticed the lights of this weird indie club i'd somehow ended up in. this music isn't normal "club" music. it's all arctic monkeys. the lyrics of these songs empowered me, i felt as though i had to continue my search for this soul.  despite the darkness, i slid on my aviators to protect myself from those blinding lights, and also to give me a hint of mysteriousness. girls love that.
and then there she was.
sipping on what appeared to be a bottle of coke, but i couldn't tell because of the ******* sunglasses i was wearing. she was standing laughing with one of her friends. she had such a different aura to her. i couldn't help but watch as she pulled out one of her organic cigarettes.
"i wanna make her mine." i thought to myself.
the lights reflected off the sweat on the walls as i tried to keep my cool, strutting my way over to her, hoping to get her eyes to lock onto mine. from what i finally saw of her in plain sight, she had love in her eyes and perfect lighting over her; like a camera plus filter. she took drags of that cigarette like some kind of goddess, causing me to get weak at the knees and form a lump in my throat, which i soon managed to somehow swallow. i had to find out who she was. i wanted her more than i'd ever wanted anything, or at least so i recall. i played out the scene in my head - we'd dance, and numerous guys would approach her. it was hard not to. i'd overpower them. "she's with me.", i'd say cooly.
i didn't realize all this fantasizing about my mystery girl had taken me so little time, because by the time i was finished my train of thought, i was standing right in front of her. god, i wanted her so bad. i swear, if i looked at her long enough, she'd steal my soul. the love in her eyes was contradicted by the incredibly **** sparkle in her iris.
"hello there beautiful. you seem to be having a lovely time. you're absolutely breathtaking, i'm forced to believe you are a certified mind blower. what's your name, milady?"
with a turn of her head, a bat of her lashes, and a flash of her perfect smile, she answered me in the most angelic voice i've ever heard.
"arabella."

january 11th, 2014
i feel like i'm getting bad again.  my head constantly hurts from all the thoughts i have going through it. my mind simply won't stop racing, i think it's because i miss you, but i'm not sure. it's hard to say. write again soon, promise.

january 20th, 2014
i'm getting bad again. i think they're worried about me. i told them about how i missed you. they said to try to forget about you, but forgetting your best friend and your first love is hard to do. i've been biting my fingers to the bone to try to keep myself from thinking of you. it hasn't been working. write again soon, promise.

january 24th, 2014
i'm bad again. i miss you. you told me not to worry about you, that you're doing just fine. but she's going to hurt you. i know she is. the nausea this is causing me is something i didn't know I was capable of feeling. it's honestly terrifying to know your body can put these kinds of ailments upon you all because of a gut feeling you have. write again soon, promise.

january 28th, 2014
i'm over the edge. she kissed you and hurt you. her lips were like daggers against yours and she ended up stabbing you, just like i said she would. but you didn't listen. write again soon, promise.

january 31st, 2014
i don't know where i am. you're sad and so am i. my empathy is unnatural. i feel your vibes from 3,800 miles across the ocean. i miss you. it's hard to keep a grip on this pen with the blood lubricating my fingers. don't know when to write again, might be soon, might be later, but i'll try, promise.

february 2nd, 2014
i'm sorry for the blood on the paper, it's not easy to control it when it's constantly pouring out of the self inflicted wounds that for some reason they've refused to patch up. i told you she was wrong for you. i knew that you'd be leaving and i knew you'd find someone else but i thought you'd be smarter than this. try to hold the pen soon, promise.

february 4th, 2014
i can't stop shaking, i didn't think you'd get to me this much. my vomiting is uncontrollable, even though there's nothing left in my body to throw up. my veins are exhausted from me constantly prying them open with the same pair of scissors you once took away from me. i told you she wasn't right for you. i told you what would happen. you knew this is how it would end up. my selfishness has taken over and convoluted compassion for you is no longer there. you did this to me because you were never there and you won't ever be. you knew how much i thought i loved you and you know how well i take these things. but my feelings don't matter, they never did. you said you'd be there for me but you weren't anymore after you met her. she changed you for the worst. i can't even fathom to say goodbye to you, so i'll leave you with a final story, since you love them so much.
"i'll sit here in my hospital bed in this gown they've dressed me in that's stained with lines and spatters of blood and smoke my cigarette and think of you as my last thought before i go. sorry to worry you. goodbye, my dear."
last time i'll write, promise.

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.

"look at all the lonely people"
i waltzed into the desolate church on the corner of a street in a town i didn't know the name of.  i've turned into one of those people who spends time in cathedrals on their days off in towns i've never heard of, due to loneliness, mostly.  to my surprise, there was a young lady halfway sitting and halfway standing in a pew next to a stained glass window. her breathing was heavy, i could hear her across the room.  she had a somewhat horrified expression on her face, which was pale and almost ghostly.  she looked so dejected, it was absolutely heart-rendering. once i took a step towards her, the priest of the old church appeared and told her she had to leave her sad state and her pew next to the stained glass window. her melancholy expression remained as she walked slowly out of the church, letting the wooden door slam behind her, never once looking up at me or the priest. he took his place in the exact same spot this young girl was in, and began to write words in a small leather journal with a quill pen. i turned around and left, and decided to come back at the exact same time i did the next day, in hopes to relive the past few moments.
--
as promised, i promenaded down the center aisle of the pews in the church, the carpet crackling under my feet, due to old age, adding to the sense of eeriness that lurked through the establishment.  the young girl was not there. i sat in the pew she sat in the day prior, in hopes of her walking in once more.  i waited for hours, and she did not show.  i faintly heard the sound of a violin just as the priest walked through a door near the altar.  his hands were covered in dirt, and i was curious.  i approached him.
"hello, father. might i ask why your hands are so *****?"
"ah. you're the man from yesterday." he said, a slight glimmer of fear in his eye.
"yes, that is correct."
"you seemed to be quite fascinated by miss eleanor." it's almost as if he knew how intrigued i was by her, although i didn't know her name until now.
"eleanor? the lass from the day prior?"
"indeed. well, it upsets me to break this news to you, but my hands are battered with dirt because i've just come back from burying miss rigby in the cemetery."
"you mean there was no formal ceremony to celebrate her life? what is the matter with you?! how did she die?"
the priest looked me dead in the eye, and spoke the chilling words in a completely monotone voice.
"she was one of the lonely people."

the taste of demise is in the back of my throat. it's stale and frigid. the coldness of the sweat dripping down my face makes me shudder. is this it? i know i'm still alive, for i can stand. the dead are unable to stand. the dead lay down in caskets. the living stand upright.
unless they're on the cusp.
what is one to do if you're standing with a hunched back? are you dead or alive?
this beautiful dress that's wrapped around my frail bones is the only thing keeping me warm in such an outbreak of chills. maybe i really am passing, for i am closer to the ground. my mind is becoming a psychological shipwreck, i can't bear to stay grounded. my heart is weak and my legs are shaky. my eyes aren't staying open. maybe that's what happens when you die. it's almost like a trance. it's an altered state of consciousness. you're halfway evolved, but not fully. you don't really know where you are. you're here, but you're not. what scares me most is that i know my fate. i know what lies ahead. the dreaded fate of being forgotten. when you die, you lose everything. people who once cared so much will eventually dry their tears. i'll be nothing but a memory.
i can no longer stand.
i am 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'm losing my best friend to a completely shallow cold hearted gripe who isn't worth anyone's time.
and it's eating away at me more than the maggots that have begun to appear inside my slowly withering soul.
my greatest fear is showing it's ugly face again - the fear of being forgotten.
athazagoraphobia- the fear of being forgotten or replaced.
forgotten. replaced.
easily.
you said you'd be there for me.
but you're going to forget me like all the other ******* did. you're going to get rid of me like every other person who has ever actually meant something to me.
you were no different.
you were the exact same.
you're just another page in my journal now.

do you ever feel worthless?
everyone has a bad day every now and again, that's perfectly normal. but it's the days where you can somehow feel everyone around you constantly judging you. in complete silence. supposedly without you knowing.
but you know.
you know their silence just as well as their voices.
the comparisons they make of you, to your peers. your closest friends. your family.
the "perfect" ones.
and then there's you.
you alone, standing right in front of everyone, waiting for a reason to continue the short yet steady inhales and exhales of oxygen into your lungs.
you haven't found it yet.
the people standing in front of you are waiting for you to find that reason for yourself. it's expected of you to know exactly why you're placed on this planet when you're in high school, sometimes even before that. with no help from anyone at all.  
it's a bit difficult to figure out exactly who you currently are, who you want to be, who you could be, who you should be, but most importantly who you will be, when there is nobody to light your lantern through the cave you have to trudge through to get there.
in addition to that, as the one being judged, it's just as terrible to have to sit there and take it like absolutely nothing is wrong.  to stand in front of these ******* and continue inhaling and exhaling like you suddenly have some sort of purpose to continue to do so.  making it appear as if their criticisms and comparisons don't make you want to down that bottle of pills you have laying under your bed.
continue putting on the front that you are just fine, that there isn't a raging crater of fiery anxiety in the pit of your stomach where normally nothing except complete emptiness sits.
extinguishing the fire inside of you is easier said than done.
and most of the time, it's a lot easier to let yourself become engulfed in flames.

as cliche as it sounds
it's a lot easier
to be happy
than to be sad.
happiness can be
drinking your favorite tea
or eating your favorite sandwich.
it can be seeing
a familiar face
you might not have seen
in a while
or having your cat
lick your nose
with their sandpaper tongue.
happiness comes in all shapes and sizes,
in all forms of things,
both living and non-living.
however, it's up to you
to find your happiness
in those things.

i want to kiss you until your lips are raw
your mind is so beautiful and i long for it
i never dreamed of having someone like you with me
but now that you're here i want you to stay

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

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 cannot wait for the older generations to die off and as awful as that sounds im so sick of being consistently judged for who i love or what i believe in and what i do in my free time, being told im going nowhere in life because i failed a math test is not how to go about a future in an art field and i swear if someone who is not an artist tells me or any other artist we will not make it in an art field one more time i will take it upon myself to produce the most beautiful art possible and shove it down every unartistic egotistical *******'s throat until every inch of their insides is as colorful as a cubic centimeter of my mind is

sometimes i wonder what it’d be like if i stopped being the disgustingly kind person that i currently am.  then when i try to discontinue it, i realize that i’m far too weak to do anything so drastic.  i’ve had this revelation recently that nobody honestly and truly appreciates this “kindness”; most of the time it just goes unnoticed because it really doesn’t matter that much.  yes, i know the cliches of it, where even if no one is watching you, you should still be kind and courteous of others.
bull ******* ****.
when i’m alone, i could care less about how you ******* feel.  it’s not weighing me down, it’s not my
i was going somewhere with this but i don’t know where i was going.
how’s your day going, dear?

tonight is one of those nights here you can feel your own heart beating.
where you lay on your bed and wonder why you're still here.  why you're so still, how you continue to breathe, how your flesh is still somehow loosely pinned onto your bones, how your hair hasn't all fallen out yet or how your fingers move quickly enough to write the words you're thinking. it's one of those nights where you constantly ponder the dreaded thought of being forgotten. of being replaced.  it's when you think of your future and what it might hold for you. where you conjure up scenarios you want to happen, even though they probably never will.
where you miss people.
where you dream a little too big.
where you have small hopes to conquer the big dreams.
where you think of what you'll have for lunch tomorrow.
where you listen to music and sing the lyrics out loud.
where you cuddle your pillow, because you don't know if you're broken or put together.
where you're lonely.
all because of a heart beat.

earlier today
at 2:27 am
i decided i missed you
maybe a little more than i should

earlier today
at 9:46 am
i thought of you again
i still missed you

earlier today
at 4:13 pm
i had another thought of you
this time, pure nostalgia

it's currently 6:46 pm
and i still miss you

i still wish i'd had one more chance to see you. you and your mesmerizing pacific ocean eyes. i wish i'd got the chance to sit in the gravel with you at dusk; just to simply talk about anything and everything and enjoy each other's company. the feeling of emptiness in the pit of my stomach has been present for as long as i can remember, all because i miss you. i've been sitting on the gravel alone, thinking of the plans we once dreamed up. looking at the sunset through the trees only makes me want you more. the fireflies that dance around my nostalgic head don't know you're missing from my picture. they don't know how terrible it is to need someone like i need you. we can't feel for the fireflies, but i always wonder if they can feel for us. do they light up the night to show us the way through our darkness? can they tell we feel empty? can they tell when we miss someone? do they know what love is? sometimes i like to think i'm a firefly. when i'm a firefly, i fly the 3,800 miles across the pond to you. i fly across the big atlantic ocean just to see those gorgeous pacific ocean eyes staring back at me. even if i was a firefly, or even if i wasn't, rather, they make me light up either way.

i see you whenever i close my eyes,
so i blink a little longer,
and maybe a little more often,
just so i can see
your beautiful face
with those pacific ocean eyes
flash before mine
whenever i’d like.

MAYBE THE TIGHT FEELING IN MY CHEST IS A REMINDER FOR ME TO BREATHE EVEN THOUGH ITS DIFFICULT TO DO WITH YOU AND THE WORDS YOU USED SO EMPTILY TO DESCRIBE THE SCARS ON MY WRIST THAT YOU MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE CAUSED ON MY CONSCIENCE I DIDNT THINK ID MAKE IT OUT ALIVE YOU HAD ME IN YOUR JAWS LIKE AN SNAKE HAS A MOUSE BUT I SLIPPED AWAY FROM YOU LONG ENOUGH TO DO MORE HARM TO MYSELF THAN YOU EVER COULD

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.

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

i was blind.  blinded by single sided affection.  simply living in a state of dreaming, and that silly state of dreaming kept me up on a cloud far too long.  now, it's time to go back to reality.  you don't want me, i know that.  floating on sweet nothings isn't how i want to live anymore.  as hard as i'm trying to keep these tears from falling from my eyes, i just can't help them.  i loved you, or at least i thought i did.  but my dream is over, i'm awake again.

we are the sun and the moon.
forever longing for one another yet destined to be apart.

we know the other one is there,
but we could never be together.

we can't see eye to eye
or face to face,
even though its well known
our minds interlock
like your rays into my beams.

it's somewhat tragic to know
that the only way for me to be seen is for you to go away;

but on the other hand,
it's somewhat beautiful
that i can only exist
because of you.

i can't tell which is more breathtaking, the fire in the sky or the one in your eyes.
the clouds suspended over the horizon were turning deep purple mixed with a bit of blue and orange.  it was one of the fall sunsets where everything is completely still as the clouds slowly dance in the sky above you. the reflection of them draped over my chocolate eyes as i was focused on your every movement.  my palm lightly floating over yours, our shadows growing as the sun departed.  i listen to you slowly but steadily breathing, still observing you with critical detail. you turned your neck slowly and your eyes traveled up to lock onto mine.  a slight chill traveled up my spine, i can't even look at you without being startled; you're just so beautiful. so rare and so fragile.  by now, the sun has hidden itself from us behind the peaks right near those steep cliffs we love so much.  in the back of my head, i had a song playing - "crystal" by two door cinema club.  i decided to follow the direction of the lyric "i left you on that street, your shadow at your feet, i should've kissed you".  i couldn't look at you without wanting to inch my lips closer and closer to yours.  i eventually had grown close enough to feel your breath on me for only a few moments, as i couldn't hold myself back any longer. you pulled me closer to you, wrapped your arms around me, and pressed your soft lips against mine at last.  there was a warm feeling in my chest and i could feel myself blushing as your slowly pulled away to bite my lip. it's hard to describe the way you tasted, but i couldn't get enough of you.  you intoxicated me more than all the alcohol on the earth; i get drunk off of you after one sip.  i never wanted to pull away from you.  everything about it made everything alright; i'd never felt so desired in my life.  the way your hands moved around me, the feeling of our teeth colliding in between the ever changing gentleness and intensity.  i'd never craved something so much as much as i crave you right now.  you're simply tantalizing, i don't know how i ever went more than three seconds without you.  i want to take drags of you constantly, i want to feel you like smoke in my lungs. i want to take multiple hits of you, i want you to be the burning sensation in the back of my throat.  with you in my hand still, i look up at the fluorescent ***** of light we call the starts atop the piece of black construction paper we cal the night.  a new song, now playing in the back of my head - " i wanna be yours" by the arctic monkeys.  every single word of every single line makes me long for you.  i really did want to be yours.  i always want to be yours.  i only want to be yours.  i will always want to be yours.  i want to be the air you breathe, the water you drink, the cigarette you smoke, the wine you sip, but especially the coffee in your mug.  i want to be the one to touch your sleepy lips every morning, hoping to wake you up with every temperate impact you make to me.  those rocks we sat upon for however many hours we did made me fancy you eve more.  i wanted you at your lowest point and your highest point, i wanted to hold your hand at all times, even if it breaks my wrist.  finding you was pure luck.  those cliffs with the sun setting behind the peaks made me think a lot.  i'm high when i'm totally sober when i'm with you.  your lips are the sweetest sensation i've ever encountered.  your eyes are brighter than those little fluorescent ***** of light on the piece of black construction paper. you're always going to be with me, in my head and in my heart.  in my hair, on my lips, and in my hand.  i never once thought anything like what we have could ever become what it is now, because i'm so me and you're so you.  maybe i was one of the lucky ones.  there's one term to describe it.  two words in one simple expression.  sweet serendipity.

i miss you
going home at night isn't the same
you literally meant the world to be
but you obviously can't see that
the other ones don't make me feel the same
because they aren't you
i never even got to call you mine
and that's what hurts the most
"friendzoned"
you're lovely
but i'm average
i wish you could make someone fall in love with you
because technically they made you fall in love with them
i'm sorry for the rant
you don't have to read anymore
i miss you

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.