dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

I want to have dipped my fingertips into eternity and fingerpainted my heart with it.
2. I want to have shoved my fingers down my throat enough times to rid myself of self-hatred.
3. I want to nail the palms of my hands to the Big Dipper. I want to sleep among the stars, and allow their light to cover me like thick blankets. I'd like to learn the simplicity of the galaxy's effortless beauty.
4. I would like to create a vaccination to save children from the growing plague we call "adulthood."
5. I would like to create a vaccination to save adults from it, too.
6. I want to fill syringe after syringe with glitterglue and stab them so far into my veins that my heart becomes a disco ball.
7. I want to become the temple that you come to to pray.
8. I want to become what I will be without fighting to the finish line, and I want a canopy of fireflies hanging from the bone of my skull.
9. I want you to tell me that you are in love with my ears, so I can cut one off, become Vincent Van Gogh and make you miss my ear like I miss the twinkle in your eyes when you tell me you love me.
10. I want every freckle on my skin to become small islands you can lose yourself on.
11. I want to change the views on "skinny" and "fat" and remind the girl made of only bone that once upon a time I was made of only bone too. Then, I found cupcakes.
12. I want to spin the world upside down and yell "Look ma! No happiness!"
13. I want to pass on my DNA and create something that I am actually proud of for once.
14. I want to make my life worth more than just a poem, or a picture, or a forgotten memory.
15. I want to stop the hands on a clock from ticking past midnight to preserve the saying "There's always tomorrow!", because once that clock strikes twelve another tomorrow will be gone.
16. Most importantly, I want to have filled the hole in me with something other than ***.

And I want to fill the hole in you with something other than half-fulfilled broken dreams.

Witness mankind taking one step in the right direction.

Day 1: I want to tear my skin off. My heart is beating so fast i can barley breathe. I feel so filthy.
Day 2: I can't believe this. I don't want to be here. Why did this happen? Why did I let this happen?
Day 5: I guess I drank too much and my friends were to drunk to stop me.
Day 10: I can't face my friends, I can't live my life.
Week 3: No one knows. He hasn't said a word.
Week 6: It happened again, I was sleeping and he did it again. Why did I stay the night? Why didn't I go straight home?
Week 7: He left and kissed me goodbye. I don't know how to feel.
Week 10: My life's out of control, I can't believe whats happening.
Month 5: My boyfriend knows. But not all details. Just thinking about it, makes me want to take a shower.
Month 8: I finally came clean to my friends. They're appalled. They hate him now. I still feel filthy. I can't get his smell off my body still.
Month 11: The anniversary is soon. What am I going to do?
Year 1: I haven't spoken to him in months. I haven't thought about it in days. I still feel as if hes on top of me, why can't I wash him away?

Its an uphill battle with myself and others. Some days I can't get out of bed or even feel like breathing.
But I try not to let him get to me. Because if he sees my weakness from what hes done,
He's won.

I said "no"
you kept going
I said "stop"
you said "I'm almost done"
I said "It hurts"
you said "It feels so good"

Afterwards I sat there blank faced
and you had the audacity to ask me if I was ok.
A shrug was all I could get out.

How could you do that to me?
Why would you do that to me?
How could I let you do that to me?
Why did I let you do that to me?

It terrifies me,
truly, utterly, completely
terrifies me.

To know that
someday, I'm going to die
and not be able to save all those people
who I've never met but desperately planned to save.
There will be sunsets that I never see,
light that never touches my skin,
grass I will never walk on.

I'm a drop in the ocean,
a grain of sand,
a pebble.
I wanted to make waves,
but I cannot even manage a ripple

It scares me that I am going to die,
and the world will forget me,
more than it already has.

I can see the shadows.
No, not your shadow,
The shadows.
The ones that crawl up your spine,
leaving little bruises along your back.
The ones that wrap themselves around your mind
and whisper horrible things in your head.
Their tendrils reach out,
looking desperately for others,
wrap their inky, dangerous selves around your friends,
because when they consume you,
they'll need a new host.