I don't know what to write anymore.
I'm all out of words, yet I still find my pen moving across the paper.
But what does it say if I don't have anything?
Does this pen have more answers than I do?
I ask it if I love you, it writes yes.
I ask it if you love me, it writes I don't know.
I tell it to help me it writes, you need to help yourself.

I watch my fingers flutter across the keyboard,
faster than a hummingbirds heartbeat.
I ask the keys," hey are you listening?"
They say, "oh look she's still kicking."
I ask if you can hear me, the say , "he's not listening."
I tell them to find you they say," why haven't you stopped fighting?"
I ask them, "What should I do?"
They say," Admit that all of this writing, was you."

I've been telling myself everyday that I shouldn't like you.
I tell myself that I'm not helping myself heal.
That answering your phone calls and looking at your messages isn't making me any better.
I've been treating myself like I have an illness.

What if I'm going about it the wrong way?
What if I'm not sick?
What if I'm meant for something greater?
What if when it's late at night and you need someone to talk to I'm supposed to be the first person that comes to your mind.
What if that night you said you would never hurt me wasn't an accident?
What if you called me beautiful and actually meant it?
What if I'm meant save you?

Save you from that broken heart you've tucked away.
Save you from your sleepless nights.
Save you from the long nights you spend drinking alone.

I see you everyday,
in my thoughts.
I feel you everyday,
in my heart.
I touch you every night,
in my dreams.

I've been telling myself everyday that I shouldn't like you.
I tell myself that I'm not helping myself heal.
That answering your phone calls and looking at your messages isn't making me any better.
I've been treating myself like I have an illness.

I need to tell myself that I'm not sick.
I need to tell myself that it's okay to like someone like this.
It's okay to want to be close to another human being, to you.
That it's okay to call you first.
I just need to tell you the truth,


*I love you.

Get me out of here.
Now.
I’m serious.
I can’t stand living here anymore.
Everyone’s crazy.
They’ve all been shooting ****** for years.
At least it seems like it.
If it wasn’t ******, it’s crack.
And if it wasn’t crack, it's pills.
And if it isn’t pills then they’ve been selling their bodies.
I don’t even understand why I’m here.
I don’t fit any of the categories listed above.
Truthfully there is nothing drastically wrong with me.
So I get a little sad sometimes,
Who doesn’t?
So I thought about jumping from the roof of my house a couple times,
Who doesn’t?
So I recently overdosed on some pain killers.
Curiosity, sadness, and death are all normal.
Right?
I tried explaining that to my mother.
Did she listen?
No.
Did she care?
Not a bit.
Did I care?
Nope.
By the time she didn’t believe the, “I’m fine” speech I knew where my fate was.
Here.
At ****** godforsaken Harmony.
Yeah, they named an institution for people with "problems", “Harmony.”
If you ask me, that will only increase feelings of suicide among people with depression.
That’s what they think I have.
Depression.
It’s a sad word in itself.
I mean has anyone stopped to think that maybe people diagnosed with depression only got really sad after hearing the actual word depression.
Hey,
Anything is possible.
In all my time of being at Harmony I’ve made a total of zero friends and have met a total of zero normal people.
Yup,
This is just what god had in mind for me.
At least that’s what it seemed like.
That is, until he put Jake Cohen in front of me.
Now Jake, has a figure that I swear can cure any form of disease.
Why?
Tell Jake to go up to a crack addict, smile that crooked smile and I know, that person will never make crack their drug of choice,
They’ll choose Jake.
I chose Jake.
I make sure to sneak a peak of his gorgeous face everyday at breakfast.
The smooth contours of his face.
How when he smiles I watch it start with the small curve in his lips.
It works its way up until he’s in a full blown grin.
From his lips I work my way to his dimples.
I scan how perfect they are.
Round and smooth, deep and hollow.
I make my way to his cheeks.
The perfect color rose.
This is when I start to blush and end up looking away.
But today, I said no.
Today I will fit in.
Today I will develop an addiction.
Today,
I will work my way to his eyes.
Boy is that a fast working medicine.
I started from the top.
Studying his hair.
The soft, soft curls that rest upon his face.
The color of milk chocolate.
I looked away.
Hey, a girls gotta take a break.
Then I began again.
Although it wasn’t such a smooth transition.
I went right for the jackpot.
I stared right at him.
Into his eyes.
The deepest eyes I’ve ever been in.
They saw me.
They grabbed me.
I spiraled.
The perfect combination of blue and green.
A mixture most people would die for.
I swam within his eyes.
High off bliss.
High off blue.
High off curiosity.
I finally found out why most girls would choose him.
I’ve never flown so fast.
It all came to a quick stop when I heard a voice.
“Got something in my teeth?.”
I’ve heard of people praying to angels,
But I never thought I would meet one.
“Don’t talk much do you?”
I took a deep breath.
My head was spinning in every direction.
“Um, uh, yeah.”
“yeah you don’t talk much?!”
What the **** did I just say?!
“Oh! No I mean I talk a lot. Sorry, don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Apparently not about this conversation, sorry to bore you.”
Dear god if only he knew.
“I’m Jake.”
I know.
“Emily.”
The biggest grin came across his face.
“Pleasure to meet you Emily.”
This time I smiled,
Inside, and out.

Is feeling this way wrong?
feeling, Love?
An intense admiration and longing to be with someone
How you’re willing to do just about anything to get them to look at you.
What do you do when you catch them staring out of the corner of your eye and they
too look star struck?
How your days are equally miserable but as soon as you see each other you can’t get a smile off your face.
*****.
How your love for him feels so wrong it makes you sick.
And if you think about it to long you might just *****.
Everyone knows how you feel about each other, but no one dare intervene.
It’s already too late.
But what if one day you woke up and knew in your heart and the pitt of your stomach that this person felt the same.
He starts to get possessive, comfortable, closer to you.
This is when things get difficult,
and one day.
He kissed you.
You’re forced to deny how you feel simply because it,
“isn’t right”
But what if every minute he’s away from you he cries.
He cries because you aren’t with him
He cries because he knows he loves you more than he should.
He screams
“How could I let this happen?”
“How can I be in love with something so sweet and so tender but it be so wrong?”
And with that he cried,
he locked himself in his room to weep.
you locked yourself in yours ,and for once each of you wept,
together,

but not touching.

Tell me

What did it feel like to consume me?
To possess my spirit, mind, and soul.
To slither inside my veins uninvited.
To settle into my pulse
Make my body your powerhouse

Make yourself at home
I said
I love you
I said
Forever
You said

I said
You said
Until I said too much
And you didn't say enough
You put me in a suitcase
Left me with a carcass
My veins empty,
My pulse nonexistent.

Tell me,
What does it feel like to carry a human soul that doesn't belong to you?

These walls, these four walls they keep him alive.
I sit in them, I look around, I wait to hear his voice, to see him stroll across the room.
Throw the door open mid afternoon and throw himself onto the bed next to me.
Cascading waves of kisses on my body, clutching my waist, running his fingers threw my hair, losing himself with me, neither of us knowing what we're doing, nobody caring, the world was ours, the night was ours.
These walls, these same four walls, they taunt me with weaknesses I now posses.
They flash images of the last time I saw him, screaming his last words at me,
"I think we should stop this."
I turn to the other wall, it continues the nightmare.
"I love you, you know that right?"
I sit up and cover my eyes.
*"I think we should see other people."
"I'm just not sure this is right anymore."
"We're done Lisa, it's over." *

These walls, these dreaded four walls, they keep me prisoner to my thoughts.
They put shackles around my feet, handcuff my arms, and rip out my soul to play with.
They drag it back and fourth, my body playing monkey in the middle, running for survival every time I see his smile
When I feel a warm breath on my neck
A nibble on my ear.
My body, it yearns for life, for passion, for lust.
My body, it fights for its life, drained and confused, numb, yet ambitious.