It's funny how we keep things bottled up,
in the dead of the night, dark of the room
the razor was to my wrist again-
it demanded I paint these secrets across my skin
and feel the blood rush to the open wound I caused myself.
Then I looked up and saw myself in the mirror
sunken eyes and hollowed demeanor
this wasn't me.
The light in my eyes was dark again
and the blue where I used to be was now just gray.
So I dropped what was holding me hostage-
and I turned to the pills instead.
I took one, down the hatch it went.
My breath stayed shallowed and harsh
as if my lungs were crying with me.  
I looked down at the bottle
poured it's contents to the floor and counted-
is ten enough to **** me?
I took another.
is nine more enough to **** me?
I didn't want to know.
So I held the pills beneath my fingertips
as if they were the grim reaper
and I put them back in their place.
Nine pills all back in their happy little bottle-
I realized they held more power in my life than I did.
So I broke, threw the bottle and broke the wall.
Then silence.
The only thing I heard were the thoughts in my head
and the silence of my cell phone
that I wished was ringing out to help me.
But I was alone again.
I hadn't felt this low in so long-
but this time no one was around to care.
I thought about how I could end it
and I probably wouldn't be found
until three days later.
As the sun sets and rises, sets and rises, sets and rises again
I would be one with the sky
and I wonder why the **** I want so badly to die-
because the past two weeks of my life
I finally felt ******* alive
like I could breath again-
like anxiety took a vacation with depression
and left me with the optimist to babysit.
But I guess their vacation was short-lived
and they came back-
made a mess of what I had built for myself
what I had been working so ******* hard for.
Chaos.  

So in short, I wanted to **** myself last night
thought of all the ways I could do it-
but then I saw the faces of the people I love
and then they were masked by all the pain I've caused
then that was masked by all the people that hurt me
so my knuckles repeatedly kissed the punching bag
until they bled onto the white cloth like decoration-
I was an artist.
The medicine kicked in-
sleep kissed my eyes and made my mind foggy
and I began to think about all the good things again.
I remembered the way silence was my favorite melody
and I drifted into the nirvana I was hoping for.

It's funny how we keep things bottled up-
because the silence of my cell phone
made me realize how strong I really was.
The secret I keep of last night reminds me
how many secrets are able to be kept.
The war raging inside me isn't one you win or lose-
It's the kind you have to fight in order to survive
even if no one even knows it's inside you.

There will be no version of me you will ever think to admire
as your hands grasp my words and alter them as they leave
I realize this was never how I wanted this to turn out.
Your words to me are like waterproof mascara
running down and staining my cheeks-
you're the opposite of what you promised you'd be
and you make a mockery of what makes me feel so beautiful.
You showed me what it was like to actually feel something
and now I remember why I never did in the first place.
I seem to be at fault for all the faults you think you carry
and this misplaced insecurity is now our imminent demise.
I don't feel anything anymore.
Remembering what it feels like to be in your arms
seems to be a distant memory
and sometimes I want to keep it that way.
I am tired of making myself small so you feel bigger-
and I am tired of using all my strength to light your world
when you insist on living in the darkness
and never giving yourself enough light too see-
that I'm walking away slowly.
You can either run to me, or watch as I leave-
because I am more than you make me out to be
I will no longer be your nothing.

I saw this quote,
and it gave me hope.
Hope that your love would come back..
and then we could start over..
but then I saw you.
Of course,
I got butterflies.
Butterflies that exist off idiotic hope.
I felt my feelings beam off me.
As if the butterflies escaped from my stomach.
You knew I still felt the same,
and I knew that.
I guess you thought you'd try for the spark we once had.
So,
You kissed me.
And I wanted to feel something so bad.. but I just couldn't.
The spark was gone this time.
And maybe it was because I was the match and you were supposed to be the flame,
but instead, you were cold.
I thought it would be so different..
That it'd be magical, I guess.
It wasn't.
Everything's so different now.
It will never be the same.
And it's time for me to say goodbye.

I want to write. I want to ramble on and on about the symphonies of my breathing and the adrenaline of adventure soaring through my desires. I want to elaborate on elaboration. I want my heart to spill out with the roll of my tongue. I want to invite you in. I want to walk the ground of every culture and discover the hidden secrets in the nooks and crannies of the world. But I've lost my muse.

I don't understand,
I still think about you every ******* day.
I lay in bed,
Wishing I could be by your side, wishing I could go back to the times we had.
Even the stupid arguments because at least I still had you then.
Now I have nothing but a couple notes,
out of the hundreds we exchanged,
and maybe a couple pictures,
deleting most because I can't stand to look at them,
But mostly its all in my head,
the memories.

Thinking of you just hurts.
I wish you would come to my door and apologize and kiss me hard.
But that's insane to even think that could be possible.
I miss you so ******* much.
I miss our kisses,
and our naps,
and our cuddles,
and our snow fights,
and ******* sitting next to you while you played your stupid computer games because you still acknowledged me and you'd kiss me.

I want your skin on my skin.
I want to stare into your eyes and see that sparkle you used to get when you saw me.

I love you so much.
I can feel my heart breaking.
I hope you can feel it too.