Yesterday we talked about your ideas on the Multiverse theory and how the universe’s on either side of us are similar to the world we live in and as you go further away from our universe things get more and more different. Some days I want to move to one of those universes on either side of us because it feels like my heart has been switched with one from another universe. The universe where this worked out.
Now I’m not saying I want you back or even that I still love you. I’m just saying that your theory is wrong because the matter is fluid it isn’t absorbed when it comes into contact with our universe. I know this because some days because I have the heart of the version of me who ends up with you.

How odd a feeling,
unrequited love;
it’s a lot like a switch in some respects.
Some days- it’s all butterflies and sunshine,
other days a hurricane of sadness because I’ll never have you.
But lately, the switch has been stuck in the middle,
as I don’t feel giddy and high off love, nor do I feel sad.
I think I’m finally getting to the point where,
if you were to come back, I could love you again,
but your absence does not haunt me anymore

It’s almost 5 am.
I remember the weeks I stayed up this late just to talk to you.
To hear your voice, and see your smile.
Crazy how a few bad mistakes and bad timing change your world.
Regardless, today I’m not staying up for you.
I’m staying up for someone far more special.
Me.
I’m staying up to watch the night to turn to day.
To watch the blackest night, turn into my favorite shade of purple, before turning pink and yellow, and finally breaking into a blue sky.
To remind myself even my worst day is only 24 hours long, and that the night will always turn to day.
As a reminder- that I can tackle whatever is thrown my way.
All by myself.

I’ve been there.
That point in life when the sun is shining, but to you it might as well be pouring rain.
I’ve gotten to the point where I was holding that blade, ready to watch the water around me turn red.
Done.
Done with the self help books, the friends who mumbled, “it will get better”, with averted eyes, because they don’t know what to do with you anymore.
When the “don’t do this” protests from even your closest friends seemed forced, because honestly, they were done trying to stop you and were getting ready to deal with the hole you would leave when you left.
I’ve watched my friends mourn me while I was still breathing.
When they were planning what to say at my funeral- as I stood next to them, a shell of the person I used to be.
I could have gone through with it, that day with the blade and the bath tub. The water ran high, all I had to do was get in, and make two slashes, but something changed.
I was calm, I was ready, steady in my resolve, but then-
the turn of a lock, a giggle and a “hi” from my little brother.
I was so caught up in my planning, I lost track of time, and I was no longer home alone.
That’s all it took.
Like waking up from a long nap, feeling disorientated and unsure of what day it was.
When people say it’s the little things that save us, they aren’t kidding.
Wait for it. The universe wants you here.
It might not be a sibling, or even another human being, and I know waiting is hard;
but if you hold out, just a little longer- you will find your sign.
The fog will lift, maybe only temporarily, but it will be enough to allow you to fight for one more day.
If you're struggling I ask of you, only one thing.
Wait through one more sunrise, and then do it again.
Take time to notice the sunrise, let the suns rays come through your dark cloud, and notice that the dark clouds and the rain, are no match for the sun.

I think that there will be some people you never lose feelings for.
Not completely anyway.
Regardless of the circumstances, that spark remains year after year.
Like one of those candles that reforms from the melted wax.
Always ready to be relight-
just waiting to see if that spark burns bright enough again to warrant a second chance.

There are men in this world that agree with your jokes.
Men that believe women have too many rights.
Men that believe women are too dumb to have the right to vote.
There are still men who believe that I should thank god for my large ******* as my husband will be happy. As if they were created for my husband's pleasure.
Men that believe my ****** should also belong to my husband. And that I should take cat calls as compliments because hey "that guy wants to sleep with me."
There are even men out there that believe I shouldnt be talking public speaking classes and should be spending my time in home ec because we all know "a woman's place is the kitchen." And that I shouldn't be pursuing a law degree when all I really want is an MRS.
Well I believe a woman's place is in the "house" and the Senate. And I used to think you were there fighting beside me, not across from me.
Now- you're egging on the movement to take my rights away.
That's why your sexist jokes aren't funny.

I tend to run when I am not reassured that people want me to stay. Normally this isn’t an issue with us- you were always there as a reminder that I was loved and needed just the way I was. But the situation has changed, you remind her of this fact first and me secondly- if you get around to it- and lately you’ve been forgetting. So I feel that it is time to jump ship, and I’m terrified that this time you won’t even notice me fleeing through the exit.

At 18 I made the mistake of telling you I had the heart of a poet.
That the way to my heart was through written word.
You only smiled and took it as a challenge.
The next two years were filled with both romantic and sensual gestures, in written  word.
I fell in love with the fact you were in love with me.
Well, if I have the heart of a poet you have the soul of a writer
and the world you created for us on paper, was better than any fantasy novel I have ever read.

At 20 I can still see your writings, declarations of love that you swore would last forever,
but I can no longer see myself as the heroine in your story.
I read your words and I see her living out my fantasy.
Do you write for her, as you did for me?
For her sake, I hope not.
So she doesn’t end up like me, reading and re-reading your words, trying to find the disaster and warning signs in your perfect world that you created for the two of us.
While you're busy becoming the writer of a different love story.

He is loyal, my god is he loyal, to a fault really.
Don't abuse this quality like I did.
Don't push his buttons and test him limits needlessly,
yes he will stay. Even after you yell and scream,
don't.
He does have a temper. Sometimes it is scary.
Don't match his anger with yours.
Just sit him down and help him calm down.
He will apologize profusely for scaring you.
His anger turns to fear quickly,
it is a delicate scenario.
Be patient with him,
I may have taught him how to love,
but I also left scars.
He is idealistic, he will plan a future with you,
if you're anything like me, it will be before you're ready,
just be honest with him about it.
The worst thing you can do is shut him out,
be honest with him and you will get honesty in return.
Most of all, love him.
Love him hard, and with everything you have,
because he deserves that.

Thank you.
Thank you for helping me through every panic attack.
Thank you for holding me close when I started to shake,
for never walking away...
even when I told you to.
Even when I cried, "it would be easier for you"
You just told me that you didn't want easy,
and that you were here to stay.

Thank you for understanding that some days I just wanted to be left alone.
You always seemed to know that it would wear off and all I would want for hours on end would be to hold you close.
Thank you for understanding that even in my moments of blind rage,
you were never really the target of such hate.

You helped build me up, and stood by as I fought my demons.
Reminded me that they didn't make me any less of a wonderful person.
You will always be my safe harbor,
regardless how many miles I travel.

Don't get me wrong,
the mushy- gushy, shy tender first moments of love are important.
But too many people have spent their lives writing about it.
Comparing the beginning of love to:
budding flowers,
sunrise,
summer,
the list goes on and on.
I say this not to be critical, as I too have spent hours writing about first encounters, and awkward yet tender first kisses and the beginning of love stories.
But I will spare you another poem about the honeymoon phase.

Society teaches us that "love" is always romantic and it's not real if it doesn't look and feel like a Nicholas Sparks novel.
If we aren't feeling butterflies and being swept off our feet, then it isn't worth our time.
Or, that our partner is wrong for us, if these attributes should fade over time.

However, I have learned that society's version of love, is the version that sells, it's embellished to attract the masses.
At the end of the day sometimes all love is,
someone who checks up on you,
someone who asks about your day and is genuinely interested.
It's the person who has your back through thick and thin,
who would never abandon you because they are angry or disappointed in you.

It's time we as a society look a bit deeper than the surface of such a complex emotion and understand that love isn't always about blushing and stealing kisses in the dark.
It's also about having a hand to hold, when you feel like it's you against the world.
It's time we let the honeymoon phase become a perk, but not the definition of love.

I self harm the way some people play the lotto.
Not every day, or even once a week,
but when I end up on a winning streak
I can't stop.
I keep feeling like one of these days I'll get lucky.

I still hope for the best for you even though there is no future for us.
Not anymore, you made your choice, and I made mine.
Still miss you sometimes though- there are a lot of memories here.
Someone will crack an old joke from years ago, or comment on how long my hair has gotten,
(I haven’t cut it since that time you said you liked my short hair)
Here’s to hoping we both find our missing puzzle piece someday soon,
the longer it takes, the more I start to think it’s still you.

There is not enough ***** in the world
to help me forget the feeling of your skin on mine.
The burn in my throat is nothing
compared to the sting in my heart.
The innocent kisses,
are the ones that hurt the worst.

Yet again, I find myself here.
Walking into the lion's den.
Unafraid, unarmed.
Fully aware of the consequences.
Putting my life in your hands again.
As fragile as a baby bird,
hoping you'll take me in.
Knowing, all I'm really doing is,
putting my head in the lion's mouth,
and praying he's not hungry today.

I need to get away.
My skin feels more and more like a cage.
Covered in battle scars from fighting my mind.
I don't ******* belong here anymore
I keep feeling the need to move,
out of the state, across the globe.
Then I realize I'm yearning to be away,
from my own mind.

Everyone can see I'm still not over you.
I tried to be.
I dated another boy, let him in.
Told him all my secrets and tried to love him.
Yet, every time we fought, my first thought was always,
"you would have understood."

It's been 463 days since we went out separate ways.
You "accidentally" dated a carbon copy of me,
who was less depressed and more confident.

It took us over a year to see be able to be in the same room together.
It wasn't awkward- it was nice.
Until I realized my nails were in palms,
so I didn't touch you.
I felt you radiate heat and wanted nothing more than to curl up in your lap.
So I guess they're right,
I'm not over you.
But it takes two to tango.

They say when you stand in front of an ocean,
the person you think about is the one you love.
But I see you, and her, and them.
I see you moving on,
I don't see you fighting for this..
I see you off in college, making "college mistakes"
girls with names you won't remember a year from now.
And I see me,
still stuck on you.

It had been over a year since we had even been together the night you called to say I love you.
"I do still love you" became the rhythm my heart pounded to.
I felt light as a feather.
Yet it felt wrong.
And that's when I realized,
I no longer loved you.
I guess life is just
Funny that way.

I started smoking thinking I could burn you out of my throat, but now I watch the smoke coil and float. I'd never understood the phrase "gone up in smoke", but now it makes total sense. Here one moment gone the next, without a trace. We caught like a flame and went out just a quickly. Our romance was a slow burning candle, that one swift blow burned out. It's been a year and the smell of your cologne makes me look around the room for you. Even though I know you are no where to be found. A candle with a burnt out wick, wont relight no matter how hard you try, you just get burned.

"Fight for the things you want in life."
"Don't be afraid to climb that ladder."
"Don't give up on your dreams."

These are the things I was taught as a kid.

But, none of them prepared me for losing you.

The rules change when it concerns love.

"Stop fighting for someone who isn't there."
"Move on, you are only hurting yourself."
"There are other fish in the sea."

I know all the lines, read all the "get over him quick" books,
but I'm still stuck in the don't give up mentality I was taught as a kid.
I want to run up to you, and whisper "I love you"
I know it won't change a thing,
but I wish it would.

I "moved on".
Dated a great guy who respects me, understands me, cherishes me.
Never lets me go to bed angry, always communicates with me
(something you ****** at)
Yet his love isn't enough.

Maybe first loves never die,
and maybe that's my problem.
Or maybe I'm just a dreamer who never learned to get her head out of the clouds.

Some days I want to hate you,
Some days I want to love you,
Most days the thought of you just leaves a bitter taste where your lips used to be.

There is an urgency in his kisses-
I've never experienced before.
A determination in his smile-
As he pulls me close.
A need I can only describe as longing-
As he wraps his arms around me.
His embrace is a drug and I'm hooked.

Maybe this isn't love.
Maybe it's just a case of dependency,
It may be selfish,
But most adicts are.
Call it what you want,
All I know is your touch is what I need.

We sit in class and "learn"
We "learn" how to write a paper,
or how to calculate the distance from the sun,
or that "datum" -is the singular of data.

But we never learn how to pull ourselves off the floor,
or how to write a resume to pay off those college loans,
or how to simply love yourself.

Fill my head with mindless facts and I will regurgitate them back to you.
Tell me to love myself, be my self, and be financially secure,
only then will I stare blankly at you and say
"How?"

Liar liar I wish you'd catch fire.

And it’s true some days I still can’t breathe when I think about you.
I’m filled with envy that she is the object of your affection.
I see red, and my throat constricts.
But then I remember,
you are only one person.
One love.
There will be others.
It’s not the end of the world, even if it feels like it some days."

You only text me when you're bored-
and I don't know if it's just a habit neither of us has kicked-
or if you still think of me, when there is no one else.
I'm okay with either really-
either way I must be on your mind.
That counts for something, right?

The mere thought of your smile still lights up my day.
2. I still have the necklaces you bought me.
3. I regret throwing Rex away.
4. I still sit around waiting for you to text me.
5. When you don't - I resist the urge to text you...everyday.
6. It's been almost a year and I still can't listen to "our" song.
7. Even my dad misses you.
8. I've thought about you while in bed with other guys.
9. My friends think you are hotter than my new boyfriend.
10. Even the friends who disliked you- like you more than him.
11. Some days I still accidentally call you my boyfriend-
instead of my ex.
12. I think I still love you.

Maybe I was meant to be alone.
I don't mean a solitary creature.
Friends are great,
people need interactions-
without them, we go crazy.
But, maybe I just wasn't meant for this-
happily ever after stuff.

That's not to say I haven't been in love.
But it never lasts.
Even in the happiest moments.
I question it.
Maybe I'm better off alone.

I am not indecisive,
I am cautious.
I am not anti- social,
I am selective.
I am not rude,
I am blunt.
I am not a *****,
I am healing.

Every 13 minutes someone, somewhere in the world,
takes their own life.
That's the amount of time it would take you to:
Make your bed (we all know a remade bed is comfiest)
Listen to five songs
Read a chapter (or two) in your favourite book
Take a walk around the block
Play with your pets
Do a few chores and tidy up
Check up on a friend-
Not a long span of time when put in perspective,
is it?
Every 13 minutes a soul struggles to find peace.
Every 13 minutes someone commits suicide.
Every 13 minutes someone leaves this earth for good.
Every 13 minutes hearts break.

But it doesn't have to be that way.
Spread the word.
Suicide is not the answer.
Help is available.
Things do get better.