I am a ******* human being-
not some project to be worked on,
tweaked or fixed.
I have learned to love myself.
Flaws, scars, mistakes in all.
If you don't like who I am-
do me a favour and leave.
That's more useful than you trying to fix me.

Mirrors and other shiny objects are said to have reflective properties.
But we disregard the most reflective thing.
Humans.
Emotions.
Personalities.
Mannerisms.
Another person can show you your reflection better than any mirror.

Sounds like you’re struggling again.
(I heard it from a friend)
too bad you won’t let me in.

I told you it was a tricky addiction,
and you struggled for so long,
but you wouldn't get help even when I begged,
I hope her love “heals” you instead.

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.

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.

I used to choke on your name like broken glass.
Now it's only a phantom pain.
I thought that was better.
Now I just feel empty.
You took my heart, my happiness, my joy.
I feel ashamed when he makes me smile-
I feel like I'm cheating on your memory.
But then I remember that you were the one who walked away,
and the pain becomes real, and sharp as glass all over again.

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.

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.

You call when you are lonely
and I come running.
More than willing-
to fill your days with laughter and light.
Only you don't call when the sun is in the sky.
You call when she is fast asleep,
and you need a play thing.

The porcelain doll on the shelf-
the toy you pick up-
as if you remind yourself you are still in possession of it.
That your doll has not grown a brain of it's own-
and fled to a place where she is not set on a shelf.

I refuse to be that doll anymore.
I refuse to be the drunken texts and phone calls-
where you slur "baby, I miss you."
I am not your doll.
I am not your fix to a lonely night.
**I am my own person.

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?"

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.

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.

It's been so long now.
The anger is gone-
we talk-in passing- just a simple "hello"
nothing serious, nothing about the past.
Maybe it still hurts too much, or maybe-
you simply don't care anymore.
But I can't help but think-

What if we just met at the wrong time?
What if we did make things work down the line?
I smile for you and tell you things are going well-
you have her- and I him.
Yet I still find myself wondering "what if?"
If I run into you a year from now-
will that spark still be there?
At least then this heart ache would be worth it.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I still want to call you-
gush about my day.
Hear your laughter over the phone-
feel your smile from hundreds of miles away.
I almost do-
but then I remember I haven't heard your voice in months.
I don't want reality to crush my dreams.

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.

We talk about war, crime and poverty..
So why not the fight in our own homes?
We talk openly, gossip even about others,
but our home is off limits
everything is “perfect"
Behind closed doors
children weep, parents fight
some wondering about making it through the night
to uphold the standard, to not embarrass those who raised us
We stay silent.
If anyone asks “Everything is great"

But for how long?
How long do we bite our tongues, fight the tears and smile?
How long is too long?
We wait too long..

Explain to me why sleep deprivation seems like a fair trade for long nights up talking to you.

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?

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.