I see you going places
While I am stuck here,
Rattled with fear,
Absorbed with the thought of losing you.

Routines are the mind's way of playing tricks on you.
And when you reach a point of breaking, a point of severe uncontrollable emotional damage,
The damage, of course, inflicted upon you by yourself,
Will suffocate you and in the process, proceed to shove you against a wall without any last words.
And in that moment, you feel like crying,
But you know, that there is no point in crying anymore.
There is no point in pondering, no point in asking, "why?"
You will find that you, yourself are nothing but a mere fraction of the mammalia kingdom,
With nothing but processed emotions, fake attitudes, controversial peers, and material objects that mean absolutely nothing to the outside observer.
You are nothing but a stupid monkey with "designer" fashion,
Nothing but a human with this bizarre concept of love that masks the lust you feel deep in the night as you crave someone's arms around your broken body.
You are nothing but a victim to life and all of life's offerings.
I am nothing.
I am minuscule.
I am a victim to society,
A victim to pop culture,
A victim to perfection,
A victim to succeed,
A victim to wealth and prosperity,
A victim to living in its own,
But most importantly, I am a victim to my own mind.
And that, I feel, is the single most cruel thing that could possibly happen to myself.
There is no point in success without a driving force pushing you to succeed,
And if I were granted success with no specific driving force then why should I be granted it?
If I worked for hours just scraping the surface of some magical discovery only to be brought down with negative feedback,
Why do I fail?
Why do I fail constantly?
Why do I tell myself that I am smart when I do nothing to prove so?
I am nothing but a victim to my own mind,
And the only escape is to die.
I am nothing.

I'm intoxicated.
This evening is magical.
But I cannot remember my name.
Who am I?
What is this life?
Who says I live while I watch others die?
I do not understand the higher power that dropped me here.
Why me, of all people?
Why should I stay here and watch others suffer, when I cannot do anything to help?
I just want everything to be happy.
It is Christmas morning;
I do not want gifts,
I do not want magic,
And I surely do not want snow.
I want peace on this earth,
And I want to know that death is something accomplished,
Rather than given.
Like a letter, of acceptance,
Rather than a letter of sentence.
I want the world to know that I love it.
I want all the people to know that I care.
I want the universe to know that I'm ready for it,
To take me away,
One soft summer day,
And to know,
Everything is okay.

Memories fade
As fast as sugar dissolves in my tea
And I feel myself do absolutely nothing about it.
I'm caught inside myself, some deep, silver trance,
And I can't crawl out of it.
Because I see you leaving, with the storm,
And the clouds are dry heaving because they don't know what else to do.
Should I prepare my goodbye, or should I hold on tight,
To someone I hold dearly in my heart?
Stories are Stories,
And love is love,  whether it's young or naive or both.
So if this is a novel,
A big detailed adventure, of my story and of my home,
How do I tell, if this chapter is long,
Or if it Is merely a page long?
I cannot tell, and neither can you,
So we are forced to sit on the frozen grass,
Remembering and forgetting the past,
And realizing nothing is sure.
So I plead to rest my words,
Silence my tongue,
Before the cold comes.

I guess maybe there's something wrong with me,
Because no matter how hard I try I can't seem to hold something for too long.
And I mean I guess that makes sense literally too, because when given something physical to hold,
I become aggravated, and drop it.
So maybe this is a test, or maybe it's a game.
But, either way, I don't know if I'll like the results.
You are a subject, in which I find difficult,
And no matter how much I inquire about help,
I still do not understand you.
I believe that is what drew me to you in the first place, though.
So I pray to some god I don't think exists,
Telling him that I need to sort out my ****,
Because if I set this one down, I swear on my life,
I will not ever forgive myself.
You are precious,
You are rare,
But somehow I feel like you're barely here.
And as the days go by, and progress into months,
How do I know that you'll stay?
How do I know that you won't set me down, like I have set down others?
How do I know what you do in your free time?
I cannot question your motives, because I know I will be disappointed.
So I sit on my *** and count the days until you notice
I'm falling apart.

I am slowly deteriorating.
The world ceases to exist in my head, and hours pass quickly,
Like seconds,
And seconds feel like hours.
I stare blankly at a wall, for these mindless periods of time,
And it does not seem real.
Who says that the life I live serves a specific purpose?
What purpose does my life have if I do not accomplish anything?
These questions have ripped me apart, so I strongly suggest you do not take them to heart.
I am depersonalized,
Insane,
Nothing is right in my head, and I fear my emotions are too fake for people to feed off anymore.
Do I live this way, in a constant confusion, for the rest of my life?
Or will this condition of questioning go away?
I have deteriorated myself,
And caused myself to decay at too young of an age.
It is true,
Curiosity killed the cat, the cat being my brain.

Jealousy is a prison,
That encloses you in shackles,
And locks you in a room.
The lack of trust flows through my veins like adrenaline as I struggle to break free;
I slam my head against the brick walls hoping someone will hear me.
I cry for help but it's like screaming with your mouth closed,
As I drown in my thoughts, and overthink my misery.
The prison walls grow tighter around me and I begin to close my eyes,
As I pray for the days where I can see the light.
Jealousy is something that can tear you apart.
And for me, it's a prison I can't get out of.
I was born without the ability to trust,
So I weep to myself hoping I will get out.