Here I go again-
I'm always falling for Y.O.U

Why do I keep doing this? Oh I'll never know! You pull me in, and push me out, a friend suddenly a foe.

Why can I not hate you? Oh I can't even resent! You lead me on and I'm still trailing until all my effort is spent.

Here I go again, I'm always falling for Y.O.U
Why are you so perfect? Oh, so desperately out of reach! You!

I once knew this boy I loved
We'd talk and laugh and cry
I could see the rain cloud above his head
And somehow, he knew of mine

Like an unspoken promise we didn't ask
But we sought comfort in each other still
Never using labels or names,
I thought we could reign unspoken until

Our castle walls fell and all our men left
And the horses they ran away
The boy that I loved was quick to move on
But I waited for another day

And it seemed like years
In that castle I waited
For any kind of saviour
But the boy that I loved forgot about me
And in came a friend for a favour

After so much waiting,
I decided it was of no use to hope
So I let this new prince
put me on his horse
And hoped that somehow I'd cope

We did for a while and the prince would be sweet
And I could be distracted
But at a ball we did again meet
And I had to monitor the way that I acted

The boy that I loved was alone again
And I couldn't help but wonder why
While I tried to suppress my feelings
And told him of this new guy

Then a month to the day I realised the truth
About this new prince and his wishes
So after much pain and deliberation
Our relationship lies with the fishes

The boy I once knew I loved was waiting for me
And I told him I was confused
He said he was too and he didn't want to risk it
We both had too much to lose

But in the shadows he holds my hand
And we drink until late
I don't know if he knew my plan
But I was hoping the alcohol would determine our fate

My prince hugged me back
But that was all
Then he was on his way
And the boy that I loved still roams past
Each and every day

With no definitions and predispositions
I don't know what we've got
But the boy that I loved is the boy that I love
Whether he knows it or not.

Once it hits me it is going to hit hard
How could you do this to me again?
You know how fragile I am
You were the one who offered to put my broken pieces back into place

And it was working
Did you get bored?
Is that why you smashed me down again to break into even more pieces

Do you like to see how much you can break me down because you know that I let the faintest glimmer of hope manifest into forgiveness and love?
Am I your loyal puppy that always comes begging back?
Am I waiting by the door for you to notice me and take me on an adventure
Lead in mouth
And butterflies in my stomach
Always waiting
For whenever you're ready
For when you need me
For when you want me
For long enough to help you move on and do better

Am I your guinea pig?
Your test dummy?
Your practice doll?
Sometimes you were there when I needed you which makes this all so much worse

Because I'm dependant on you, you see
While you're looking at her and I'm cursing my reflection
Does she know you like I do?
Do I even know you that well, or was it all an act? I'm supposed to be the actress, but your performance is oscar worthy.

What does it mean
to be accepted
when my sense of self
is intercepted?

Is it still the same
do you still belong
If they all like you
but it all feels wrong?

Identity is
being individual
but what’s the point
if it’s all for their vigil?

Isn’t it ironic
to feel secure
we try to belong
to someone else’s couture?

In conclusion I’d say
if identity you forfeit
you’re hiding yourself,
you’re wearing a corset.

It was nice to be invited, but now I regret agreeing to this.

The light in here is too artificial; the vibrant pink almost strangles the dark blue before transforming into an eerie green. It is strobing, spinning, scanning, pointing, observing the rapid decline of morality around the room. It's not even comforting like light should be, it is assaulting the senses and coaxing for trouble.

The floor is sticky, lined with a layer of spilt drinks and the trash the bottom of shoes bring in; cigarette butts, chewed gum, ***** and hopelessness. The walls are plush but I don't want to touch them- I don't understand why they are sticky too...perhaps one too many drinks thrown at ****** guys?

The roof is low, caving in on everyone inside. The room has about 400 more people than it can hold, and I am being smothered by un asked for touches and nudges, pulls and pushes. I can feel someone thrusting into the back of me while the couple in front (who don't know each other) almost fall on top of me in a desperate attempt to show the room that they have no cares- they will have *** right in front of you if they have to.

The music is way too loud. And not the fun sort of too loud that's often cranked up at parties or in the car, but shatteringly loud, drowning out any attempt of speech. Why should these people care? They don't care who they let under their clothes, or what their name might be. And why am I not like that? Why am I the only one in this God forsaken night club not throwing my body at someone. I mustn't be normal.

The girls in the bathroom are smoking **** and swallowing pills- they aren't even trying to be secretive about it- the sink is filled with all types of substances. I can't find a corner to go and just be until it is time to leave.

I don't understand why I am the only one like this. I tried my best to look pretty tonight. I poured hot wax on my skin, layering paper on top to latch onto my hair and rip it out. I used expensive products, layer after layer just to cover my spots. Even though I am allergic to it, I took a pencil to my eye lids and pulled my lashes with a mascara brush. I didn't eat so as to not smudge my lipstick. I squeezed myself into the only dress I own, the one I can't breathe out in. I forced myself to wear shoes with sticks supporting them. I can't walk in heels, but if I don't I am ridiculed and stand a head shorter than the rest of the room.

And now I'm here, and do you think anyone gives a ****** **** how long it took me to get ready? Do you think anyone cares that the wire of this bra is cutting into my flesh? No. I know why, too, because I am not wearing anything like everyone else. I am the only one who's dress gathers at my knees, and as far as I can tell, the only one wearing a bra. I don't care if other people want to dress like that, good for them, but it'd be nice to know that people actually want to know you for other reasons than *** with a blind face to brag about later.

I am watching girls do anything, no matter how uncomfortable they feel, to please their companions. If this is what I have to look forward to as being a young adult, I don't like it. At all.