Don't ever say
this lifes just not worth living
and don't you ever believe
that you can't be happy
so please don't be
just another statistic
I won't give up on you
if you will do the same
please don't fake another smile
what good will it do
if we don't know you're hurting
why pretend to happy
when we can be happy for real
please understand that you
can be the best
if you learn to love yourself.

You can be my inspiration
if you believe in me
I'll believe in you.
You can spark my creativity
with all your wonderful emotions,
whether they are sad or happy.
I won't stop you shining through
I know you can feel it too
so don't feel blue
or I will too,
so please don't cry
when people walk away
and others pass you by.
Don't forget to be you,
you're weird and that's awesome.
I just hope that someday
I can inspire you too.

Running out of days
My breath is becoming short
The whispering wind begs me to stay
Hoping for a twist in this plot

Please don't take my soul
Not now, not just yet
But it's beyond my control
Must cherish this journey of no regrets

Let's build our own little fort
Where no one gets hurt and no one dies
Hopes and prayers are my last resort
As we bid melancholy goodbyes

Oh darling, take my hand
My grip is getting weaker
Prepare yourself to let go, unplanned
Since my skin has turned paler

Soon my sleep will become deeper
Craving for a final moment with you
Before falling into this eternal slumber
Before my time due

Oh darling, wipe your tears
Those drops are precious
Go to our little fort, take shelter
And reminisce how our memories were tenacious

Raising a white flag
One more moment, please
I solemnly begged
Alas, closing my eyes at ease

I don't really know
who I am anymore.
What happened to the world,
the world I used to adore,
the world I loved,
for filling me with hate.
What happened to the old me,
the me that hated being called your mate.
The me that hated smiling and laughing,
the me that hated being happy,
arrrr, just thinking about it makes me feel like barfing.
Who am I right now, I still don't know
Where is the me that depised being called nice,
will I ever find that me again,
that me with the heart covered with ice.
Why can't I find the me that wrote for himself
and hated everyone equally,
including himself.
Oh why can't I find that me,
I feel a weird emotion without him,
but I cant' seem to cry,
even though I know he'll be back...
because "Evil Never Truly Dies".

I'm sure someone would have already said or written this but I'll write it anyway

Most people can sing, its just that some people can sing better than others.

Most people can dance, its just that some people can dance better than others.

Most people can act, its just that some people can act better than others.

Do you see what I'm trying to say, it applies to just about every talent a person can possess. Some people are just more talented than others, for example:

I can write, but there are a lot of people that can write better than me, but that doesn't bother me because if someone is more talented than you with something, then you can either just sit there and be jealous or you can try to get better, and remember that if you put your mind to it then you can achieve the impossible. (Ok so you can't actually achieve the impossible, because then it wouldn't be impossible, but you get I mean).

I am Lex
And I am Alexandra.
I am not “baby” or “darling”.

I have more flies in my house than friends.

I am eighteen years old
But I feel as though the number should have an extra zero.

I am a student in more ways than one; of school, of the universe, of the stars in the night sky that I used to swear you hung all on your own for my eyes-
my gray-blue eyes with specks of yellow light around the pupils that make it look like I have always just been dancing in the street lights.

My pupils expand like black holes when my serotonin levels even out.

I am so short that I could pass as a pixie.
Five feet and one inch of metaphors that are so deeply rooted into my bones.
My ribcage knows truth like you placed it in my lungs for me to breathe in.

My hair is so indecisive, it changes colour biweekly.
I was born blonde.
My brother was born blue with a cord around his neck.

Every night before he goes to sleep he asks me to scratch his back.
I am older than he.
I feel that I am older than most.

I like old things.
If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.
I need someone with an old soul, I’m all Elvis and vinyl and Marilyn Monroe.
I could listen to Paul Simon’s “Live Rhymin’” on phonograph until I drop dead.

I wish it were winter all year long
But I don’t like being cold.

I collect tattoos like fireflies in mason jars.

I’m on pills that are supposed to make me happy.
I don’t think I’ve been happy since 2009
and I miss Her every day.

I’m more scared of life than death
but I no longer want to embrace dying.
Sometimes you forget to breathe just for a second, and then you realize
what you would be missing.

I think my depression is sort of like that.
It’s like being a bird and you’re the only one that can’t fly.

Nonetheless, I wish for stillness.
For peace, for fun in flatlines.
I wish for summer days by the lake
and no cell phone service.

I yearn for California.

I love reading so much that if I got paid for it,
I’d be a billionaire by now.
If you look into my eyes you could probably see traces of Sylvia Plath.

I wonder sometimes why she stuck her head in that oven.

I like vegetarian sushi, so basically just vegetables.
I was a vegetarian for a long while but then I decided that I wanted a hot dog.
I still regret that sometimes.

I’m afraid of frogs but nothing else.
I like to watch scary movies with the lights off.
I love to sleep, but I’m an insomniac.
And most of the time Melatonin doesn’t even knock me out.

I don’t believe in God but I believe in ghosts.
I don’t believe in hell but for Her sake, I hope there’s a heaven.
I believe in science but the class makes me want to rip my eyes out.
Except if it’s astronomy.

My parents usually depress me.

I believe purely in art.
Give me art or give me death.

I want to be a poet.
I want a living poet society.
My name is Lex
And this is 2013.

Am I weird because I'm not like other people

Or are other people weird because they're not like me?