Not quite sure yet
What I want to be
But so much pressure
Just to get my degree

I’m young and free
Even crazy and wild
Don’t you even dare
To treat me like a child

Though I can’t help but think
Where will I be in 10 years?
Will I finally have courage,
to face my worst fears?

Will I still have my boyfriend,
who I’ve been with?
Do high school sweethearts
exist, or is that just a myth?

Should I go get drunk,
this weekend with my friends?
I got invited to another party
The fun never ends

Wait I’m kind of insecure
About my body and weight
Why am I still awake?
It’s getting pretty late

Yet I still haven’t started
Any of my homework
Who cares anyway though
I mean my teacher’s a ****

I’m under so much pressure
Because I’ve got to graduate
But you try being a teenager
In a world filled with hate

Overthinking killed the teenager
And that teenager is I
Overthinking every thought
And I don’t know *why

Happiness can cause sadness; In the sense that when we have incredible moments that seem perfect, the feeling of ecstasy that pulses through your veins doesn't last. I live for those moments. The ones that carve a smile on your face and a story in your heart. The ones that take your breath away. The ones that, no matter how hard you try they can't be put into words. And I get sad when it's cold outside and my soul aches for the freedom of summer. I think back about all the times we had and how now they are memories that I try to relive. I wish I could be stuck in those moments forever; to be completely and utterly independent in a haze of pure happiness until the end of time.

They sat by the river
On a perfect spring day,
She danced about him
In the middle of May.

Her arms above her head
Twirling.
Her little white dress
Flowing.

A crown of wildflowers
Atop her light main
Couldn't be held down
Not even in chains.

Biting his lip
He couldn't take it anymore.
And pulling her down
To the carpet of green
Her rainbow crown fell
And they made love with the trees.

Breaking my heart,
One hundred eighty degrees.
Pain is a love,
That spreads disease.
All these people,
With all their needs.
Their only way to love,
Is what fits their needs,
It has nothing to do with you, or me.
Alone in their hell, why I'm a your invitee?
Intentions is to invite you too;
Weight and sea; it will be the death of me.
I guess I pain you, is the new I love you.
So it’s hard not to confuse the two.
Especially when their is no limit too,
what they won’t do; the complete
Opposite of what they expect from you.
Love is a pain; we all go through;
Some of us actually get through,
Some of us just pretend we do,
Some of us actually do,
While some of us don't even have a clue.
Sometimes, it’s too good to be true
Most of the time, it has nothing to do with me or you.
Other times, you wish it didn’t involve you.

Sweet dreams are made of thieves;
Lairs that love you; but don’t know what truth means.
They just show up, act the part, steal your heart and leave
Some say they love you, but their actions make you grieve.
Say they love you, but the scars disagree,
Wear my broken heart on my sleeve,
wasn’t put there by me.
Love yourself way more than you love me,
Believe half of what I see, and all I feel, believe me.
You keep breaking my heart and blaming me, evidently,
Such clever ways to use my words against me.
These are the things lovers do,
Some of you don’t even know,
Some of you only wish you knew.
Pain is love, a pain you wish you never knew.
Where a darkness grows, and consumes you.
Your weakness grows, and over powers you,
Before you know,
How another person feels,
Empowers you,
Before you know,
Their hidden power devours you.
And off you go, seeking their love blinds you
And their love is the only thing that guides you

Late nights lead to early mornings when your on my mind. So close yet so far. This drunken dream of ours has shattered, just like the mirror above my heart when you broke it.

How can I go to the ocean when your eyes are the same color? Tell me, how I'm supposed to make myself feel loved? It takes two to tango but baby I'm a wallflower that doesn't bloom for anyone else.

I want you to rumple my hair the way you do the sheets, messy. Trace a love story upon my neck,
One that only we can read.
Ingrain it into my skin so it's there forever. You know I would catch you a star, but oh you'd only catch a cold.


And sometimes I think I'm going mad,
Constantly tormented by your lack of presence. Maybe in another life we will get through the storm, cause the wind is a swirling disaster and my heart is icy without  you.

I remember when I was in the hospital and I didn't sleep for two days straight because I swore to god that if I did the demons would step out from under the bed and seep into my head.

I remember when it was three am, and I was shaken awake from the girl three doors down shrieking from the night terrors that her mother embedded into her skull with her fist and a belt when she was eight. But, they were then stored away until she was thirteen years old and a man swore that he'd beat her if she didn't cooperate. So, now they hide during the day, and creep back up when the sun falls.

I remember when I witnessed a boy unintentionally scratch at his skin until he bleed for an hour because the voices inside of his mind told him that if he didn't hurt anyone else, he would just have to hurt himself. and he swears he'd never hurt anyone besides himself.

I remember when I met a girl who had cuts up and down her arms and legs from when her mother told her she'd never survive the world because she isn't good enough. But, I swear to god that she was the strongest person I've ever met.

I remember when my roommate stayed up all night rocking with bloodshot eyes and deep purple circles underneath of them because she swore that if she slept the monsters inside of her head would crawl out and bleed into her soul.

I remember when the boy five doors down hit the wall so hard that it shook the entire unit because he hallucinated a man and a little girl trying to strangle him, and he swore he could feel the noose around his neck.  

even through all of this, for some odd reason teenagers think it's lovely to have deep scars and to hear voices telling them to **** themselves and everyone around them. I swear, nothing is lovely about demons eating at your brain and thoughts.

I remember when it was four am, and I was up weeping from the fact that people think my suffering is lovely.

I can swear to you, it's not.