I am the dim star that twinkles
hoping that you'd make a wish on me.

I am the flickering light bulb that
just needs a lil tightening.

I am the coals on the fire hearth
Waiting for you to give me breath.

Yet they walk on by,
Not realizing
I'd make their wishes come true,
I'd light up an entire room,
I'd give them warmth when they are cold.

I am the things that make you feel not so alone.

If only I had a chance.
To do something meaningful.
To save a life
Or inspire greatness.

But I'm not that kind of person.

I'm not ambitious enough
To do something meaningful.
To make a difference.
To have the world remember
Not me, but what I did.

I'm not helpful enough
To save a life.
The world is too full anyway.
I'd never make enough sense
To even save anyone.

I'm not good enough
To inspire greatness.
I'm not a good person.
And I hate public view
So I don't think about standing up.

I'm not that person.

I haven't been since lower school.
When I still dreamed big.
When I still loved wonder.
When I was afraid of storms
And the boogeyman lived close by.

That person no longer exists.
If only I could go back
To make sure that person lived.
But by doing that
I'd erase me. And everything I am.

He will never do anything the way you like
Do you argue or do you just not fight
He will never say the thing that's right
Do you move on or just not fight
He will never really know what it feels like
Do run away or do you stay and fight
He will never do everything right
Do run along or wait and find out

He will never do anything the way you like
Do you tell him that or just leave tonight

My brain doesn't work right.

Most of the time,
I feel like I'm not real.
Like I don't exist.
But more like I don't consciously exist.
It's a very faded feeling.
It's, I guess, like being a ghost.

It's like everyone else is alive.
Like they're real.
They have real live bodies.
But, in comparison, it's like I'm not physically real.
I'm just a dull flicker of consciousness that occassionally flares into a full word.

I'm sorry, but I don't know what that word is, yet.

My brain doesn't work right.

Sometimes,
I feel too much.
Even though I might only be feeling one emotion or I might only be having one thought,
I feel all of it.
I feel everything.

I've been told that it's part of my illness.

That when people have the same chemical imbalances I have,
We feel things fifty times stronger than most people's.
Our emotions cut deeper.
Things mean more to us.

I guess that's why pretty much every great sentimental artist in history was thought to have some sort of Bipolar Disorder.

I guess, people become great and wise when they have Manic Depression Disorder.

But, I guess, only after they die.

Right now, though,
I can't bring myself to feel anything at all.

I suppose it's because some intuitive, subconscious part of myself knows that I'll be feeling much more than my fair share later.

And once again,
I'm probably going to end up being
The scared, stupid, naïve little girl
Sitting in the corner of her closet,
Listening to the rain, the wind, and the thunder,
While waiting oh-so-hopefully for the person she loves
To love her back again.

All because she was dumb enough to think there was something in this world that's permanent,
Other than *"Goodbye."

I love you so much.

More than the moon and stars.

I love you so much,
That I would lock myself away forever
If it meant you were finally given some type of peace.

I love you so much,
That I would anxiously give away
All the scars and memories I have
That I'm so twistedly proud of,
If it meant you could be happy.

I love you so much.
You are the air I need to breathe.
But I would gladly
Die of asphyxiation and oxygen deprivation
If it meant you were safe.
If it meant you could be okay.

I love you so, so, so much.

And I know it doesn't mean much,
But I am going to keep my promises,
Even if they're already broken.
I'm going to fix this, us.

I love you so much.
Though I understand if you don't believe me.

I mean, how could you believe that someone
Loves you
When all they seem to do is leave?

I want to tell you that I know that I wouldn't be able to believe that either.

But what you need to know is that I already don't.

I am an introvert.
I rebuild myself from silence.
I isolate myself when I'm upset.
I recharge all my stores of energy when I'm alone.

But I am also very bad at being an introvert (just like how I am very bad at most things, especially things that make up key parts of who I am).

I do not like being alone.
I cannot successfully live in a quiet house.

I need some type of noise to soothe my constantly-buzzing subconscious.

I have,
For the most part,
Been the truest type of alone
For the majority of my life.


But I can't keep it up.

I am alone all the time.
Pretty much everyday,
And I wouldn't be surprised
If it turned into every night, as well.

I am always by myself.
I always have been.

I don't think I can do this-- any of this-- alone anymore.

But I don't really have much of a choice.