3  hours and 30 minutes.
that is the closest distance i've ever lived to someone i've kissed.
i long for the day that
3 hours and 30 minutes
is the farthest distance i have to survive.

what you did will sting me forever
but
i want you to know
that when a bee stings someone
the bee is the one that dies

the way you wrap your arms around me
and give me a hug
when you get drunk
makes me sad
because you aren't able to do this when you're sober
because i think the only time you're happy
is when you have a drink in your hand
and i know that you are hurting so bad
and i feel like i don't know you well enough
to be able to take your hurt away
but i guess it isn't my job to fix you
and maybe you don't need any fixing at all
so when you tell me that you miss hanging out with me
it fills me with sadness and guilt
because i don't think i miss you as much as you miss me
because i want to so badly be your friend
but right now
i don't know if i can be friends with someone
who can only be happy when they have a drink in their hand

you have so much to offer this world
i could see if from the moment we first met
i think
if you could just give the world an opportunity
to hold you
to love you
to support you
you would be surprised with how much love surrounds you
own who you are
and others will follow suit.

there are pages
upon pages
of things you may never hear

things that only my notebook
and my pen
will ever see
but that's ok.

because not everything is written for the purpose of reading
because sometimes it's not meant to be read
because reading might ruin what it is

and i'm in love with the idea of being a poet
but maybe being a poet
will be too hard

because how many thoughts
can this notebook hold?

but as i sit here and write
into this very notebook
with my favorite pen

i guess
i already am
a poet

i am my own biggest fan
i will not stop liking myself less
just so i can start liking you more
that's not how it works

did you know that recently, i find it hard to pick up a pen and write about anything other than you. that i find your name sprinkled throughout every poem my mind creates. that i want to so badly read my poetry to you, but it's hard enough to put it on paper, it will be so hard to show it to you. so when you asked me if any of my poems are about you, i wanted to laugh. because every poem is about you.
every line
every comma
every space
because how could i write about anything else.
when i could write about you.

you make me feel everything at once
and
every time I look at you
I’m just happy that you’re the one who makes me feel like that

I want to skip to the part where it’s beautiful
but maybe the struggle of getting there
is what makes it beautiful

i'm sorry that i keep talking about how lucky i feel
but if i am being completely honest
i'm just trying to soak it all in while i can
because i cannot control the fear in the back of my mind
that is telling me this has to be too good to be true
because it terrifies me everyday that i like you as much as i do
because i don't want to be hurt again
because losing you would probably hurt the most
because for once in my life i feel like i deserve this
and i feel like i deserve you
and because i do feel lucky
and i'm sorry that i feel like i have to apologize for that

i really have been trying not to make everything my problem
so when my mom called me
and she told me i should be more sympathetic rather than empathetic
i knew that she was right
but mom, it doesn't make it any easier

because mom,
you taught me to pick others up before myself, even if it made it a little harder for me to stand up
because mom,
you taught me to love with my entire being, even if it ended with a tear stained pillow and broken heart
because mom,
you taught me not to say no to a good thing, even if it meant you had to help me pick up the broken pieces in the end
because mom,
you taught me that i still need to put myself first sometimes, because loving myself is the most important
and mom,
when you called me
and you told me i should be more sympathetic rather than empathetic
i knew you were right
and i want you to know that i'm trying
but it's because i grew up my entire life watching how you always put everyone before you, even if it literally wore you to the ground
and mom,
i'll appreciate that forever

so mom,
i'll promise to try and put myself first, if you'll do the same.

mom and dad,
maybe I was silly
for thinking that the seven-hour car ride could replace the tearful goodbye
and I should have known
that the goodbye doesn’t always have to be filled with tears to hurt
because for someone that cries a lot
my face stayed rather dry
and maybe that’s why it feels like I’m saying goodbye everyday
and I grew up in a household where we weren’t allowed to say we were bored
because there is always something to do
but mom and dad
when I say I’m bored
I don’t want you to take that word to bed with you
I don’t want you to look for the deeper meaning and feel lost
because that word does not mean I’m sad
because I will tell you if I’m sad
It does not mean I’m anxious
because i am already anxious
when I say that I’m bored
It doesn’t mean I’m bored of you, mom and dad.
because I could never get bored
of the tea drinking, book reading and lazy Sundays we have
so, when I say I’m bored
what I really mean is thank you
thank you for creating me into someone who isn’t afraid to leave
someone who isn’t afraid to explore
thank you for creating a home for me to come back to when I need a break from exploring
and when I say I’m bored
It means that I’ve found so much life out there that is worth living
It means I’ve found purpose in ripped notebook papers and used books
and I’ve found purpose in myself
mom and dad, When I say I’m bored
It means that I still need all of this life you have built for me
but it also means that I now know how to survive without it
and I still know
that I shouldn’t say I’m bored
because there is always something to do
thank you
for giving me a whole life of things to do
i’ll never be bored of you, mom and dad

he told me he didn't want this to change anything
but i don't think i've been the same since he touched me
thinking about his hands makes me uncomfortable
and maybe that's because the first time he fingered me it wasn't even in my own bed.
or maybe it's because the first time he fingered me, i'm not sure i even wanted him to.

i asked him
"what's worse a liar or a cheater"
"i didn't lie"
actually
you just did.

self love is not crying in public and not caring what people think

being with you
has made me realize that
i've already dove head first into the water
and now i'm in deep
and i've never been scared
of swimming in the deep end before
but suddenly i am
which made me realize
that i've never been much of a swimmer before
and now that i'm in
the water actually feels pretty nice

you never had to feel the same way that i felt.
and you never had to understand the way that i felt.
you just needed to respect it.
but you clearly didn't ever respect yourself enough to even think about respecting me.

i will never dull my sparkle for the purpose of you shining brighter than me.

once
when you were drunk
you called me
and i'm pretty sure that's the last time we had a real conversation
i remember wanting to hold on to that moment forever
because i knew
the second we hung up that phone
everything would be the same as it was before
i would go back to missing you
and you would go back
to trying to make me into someone that i wasn't
i'm sorry that i wasn't all that you thought i was
but i'm more sorry that you didn't see what you were missing
the night that you drunk called me
i stared at the twinkling lights above my bed
i stared at them until my eyes burned
they burned with memories soon to be forgotten
because maybe they weren't good memories anymore
and maybe i need to stop writing about you
because every time i write about you
i get reminded of that night you called me when you were drunk
because it makes me sad
that i think that's the last time we had a real conversation.

you called me out for not making eye contact with you. i said it was because i was nervous, but maybe i was scared that if i looked into your eyes for too long i would get hurt again.


i was right.

we are friends on facebook
but you've already taken so much from me
you are the reason for the tear stained pillows and sleepless nights
you are the reason for the fear that kept me from walking alone
you are the reason people turned away when my name was said  
you took everything from me
so really
of all things
you don't get to be my friend on facebook

sometimes my brain moves in fast motion
my hand is a couples paces behind
my body struggles to keep up
as the words and thoughts crowd my brain
i'm trying to keep up
i can't keep up
why do i need to keep up

i knew what i was getting myself into the second he said "no feelings attached" i said "of course" but my tear stained pillow said differently. you told me i made the first move, but you made the first move away. but silly me, i should have known the only way out was going to be painful. because, when it comes to me there are always feelings attached.

something about filling in my eyebrows makes me feel powerful

that saying that says, "fool me once, shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me" is funny to me because it is still me getting fooled every time.

sometimes days are good
simplistic and wholesome
and good
and there is no reason behind it
there is no hidden meaning
and it’s time to realize
that days are supposed to be good
and you are allowed to have good days
without wondering the reason why

i have not written in a little bit
and i know it's because i'm happy
and i am healthy
but i have to remember what got me here in the first place
because if i didn't write my first poem
i would have drowned myself in my tears
i would have snapped my pen in half
i would have left my brain crowded with too many thoughts
too many sour feelings
i would have left unused notebooks
under my bed
if i didn't write my first poem
i would not feel this happiness
and this health
that i do right now

i love how he smells
and i know that soon enough
it's going to hurt so badly
to smell it ever again

with you
it hurts less
to think about
the things
that hurt me
the most

it's ironic that you wiped my tears away the second i needed you
but the second you were the cause of my tears
you were nowhere to be seen.

i don't know what i'm supposed to call it, you
told me this was how it was supposed to happen
i don't know how i'm supposed to feel, but
i think i feel used
i don't know what i'm supposed to say, but
i think i should have said "no"
i don't know where i'm supposed to go from here, and
i think i want to go home

i bet you can't even spell my name
that is how little you know me

call me a ****** *****, at least i'm honest.

and as i sit here in this bed
and write a poem instead of my english essay
i ask myself how i got here
because there was a time where my nights were filled
with sorrow
with pain
with stress
with regret
and now they are filled
with pride
with smiles
with dedication
with effort
because i put time into what i do now
instead of just do it
and i really don't know if i did that before
or maybe i did
but it didn't mean that much to me then
because what is the point in doing something if the meaning behind it has already been lost
or maybe the meaning was never even there
and so yes
i will write my english essay
but first
i will write this poem
because this poem means something
and right now
i want meaning

i've never been
and never want to be
the type of person
who doesn't want to get their hair wet
you'll find me diving head first into the water
not afraid of the damage my splash creates
just think about all the things i'd miss
if i sat beside the water
and watched
i won't experience anything
if my hair stays dry

you asked to read one of my poems tonight
and i watched you as your eyes floated over my words
i tried so hard to read your expression and failed
but no matter what
i was so proud of what i had written
and i was so proud that you wanted to read it at all
you asked me when i had written it and and you seemed shocked when i said
"this morning"
you put your hand in mine and kissed my shoulder
you were proud of me
you didn't have to say anything i could tell
i could tell
i let you read one of my poems tonight
and i know it's only a matter of time
until you are reading this one too

it all comes down
to who you look for
in a crowded room
and
i think i'll look for you
forever

in a room full of people you'll find me in the middle
it's not because i am extroverted and outgoing
because, yes i am those things
it is because i am scared
i am scared to be left alone
and so
i do what i can to surround myself with people
even if those people are toxic to me

i'm afraid to be in love.
i'm afraid to be in love because i've never been in love before.
i'm afraid to be in love because i think that love is going to hurt so badly.
i'm afraid it's going to wear me down and break me until i cannot stand on my own.
i'm afraid that i'll give so much to one person and be left with nothing when they leave.
i'm afraid they'll always leave.
i'm afraid that it will hurt so much.
i'm afraid to be in love.

don't ever let a boy tell you that it's not okay for girls to *******. just another thing they are jealous of. they'll never be able to do it as well as you.

you say you won't hurt me
but that won't keep me from being afraid you will

i told him that i wish i could hate him.
you're such a good guy, i said.
that's so ******* annoying, i said.
i don't want to hate you, i thought.
i wish i could love you.

it's the season of feeling grateful
and the first person i want to be grateful for
is myself

i'm so scared
because he might treat me really well
i'm so scared because i think he might kiss me
and i think i might want him to
but i'm not supposed to want to kiss my friends
so what will happen if he kisses me
i don't want to be hurt again
and everyone says he won't hurt me
but what if he does
they don't know
they don't know how it feels
to be so scared that this might hurt me so bad
he makes me nervous and i've yet to recognize if that is a good thing or a bad thing
i'm not sure what i'm supposed to say to him
because i don't want to be another girl
i want something
and this would be a lot ******* easier if i knew what that something was
i think in the back of my mind i know what i want
but i am too terrified to say it out loud
because that makes it real
and real is scary
this is really scary, all of it
but
i still want him to kiss me

you told me not to tell anyone you kissed her
but
i told you not to kiss her