I'm as stubborn as my father,
and as paranoid as my mother.
I'm a product of my parents.
This is what they left me.
I'm begrudging and cold,
tired and impatient,
and terrified to walk alone at night.
I'm a product of my parents.
This is what they left me.
But I'm no-nonsense and selective,
and that has fared me well.
I've been forced into humility,
until humility is what I am.
And I have no eye for the temporal.
And since my mother bore me,
I sing too loud,
and love too hard.
All the while with paranoia
- but stubbornness.
Because I'm a product of my parents.
And this is what they left me.

Don't fall in love with me.
I've witnessed far too many people fall in and out of love,
to believe in such a silly phrase.
I believe in that love the way a little girl believes in magic and fairytales.
All starry-eyed and fluttery.
And when you grow up, its an evident lie.
I'll believe in that "love" when wishing on stars actually works.
So don't.
Don't fall in love with me.
Instead make a choice.
Choose to love me.

The Love I do not Want,
is one revolving around feelings.
They're temporary.
Evanescent.
Fleeting.
So when they leave, love does too.
And seeing this has torn me apart.
Over and over and over.
This is what it does to you.
It screws you up.
It leaves you fragile and thin and weak.
I may be so **** uncertain as to what it is I want.
But I know,
oh I know what I do not want.

The stain of salty tears
on the underside of my pillow,
and trust issues.
Because nothing and no one is true,
or real.
And all that's left in me is the
pain in my chest
as my heart wrenches,
since the memories are tainted.
All I feel now is disdain.
You left anger in my heart and soul.
Shivers and a Hollow Feeling.

I tore down the pictures of you off of my wall,
and threw them violently in a cluttered drawer.
(Notice I did not burn them.)
But I could not tear you out of my head.
I could not rip you out of my heart.
It seems as if the strings of my heart
have entangled to form your face,
or spell your name,
and to cut the threads would **** me.
You are a lethal drug -
an addiction that kills slowly and silently.
Memories of you have found their way
into the inner workings of my mind.
But there is no solace for you in the
crevices of my thoughts.
Not anymore.

when I'm
outrageously
terrified
- out of
my mind -
to love you;
and I choose
to do it
every
day.

I really admire you, you know that?
I love looking over to you in a dimmed classroom,
and seeing the same thing every morning.
An open notebook, begging you to write more.
You're like me.
We find such comfort in the pencil and paper.
They are our relief and escape.
This, my friend, is the way we pour forth our souls.

I thought the other day the right words could never leave my mouth.
They bubble up in my chest and in my throat.
Rising, rising, risi-
then escape through my fingertips.

You rip the paper out and delicately fold it up.
Gently now, those words are precious.
So I know that with a great deal of trust
you place it in my hand.
This, my friend, is the way we connect.
And the level on which we connect is a transcendental one.
Our words are perpetuated through ink and graphite.
This is the reason for my admiration.
You understand.
You're like me.

Let me in, my love, let me in.
So I can know what I'm loving, let me in.
So I can know who I'm loving.
Your eyes are just mirrors,
I'm looking right at myself,
I know myself — let me in.
Your tears break my heart, yet they're empty to me.
Let me in, my love, let me in.
So I can know who I'm loving, let me in.