Regret is being locked in a room with mirrors plastered on every possible stretch of wall. Everywhere you turn you can see yourself in all your glory. You see the dirt underneath your nails from each passing night. You see the redness of your skin from where you had obsessively scrubbed clean. You see the blisters on your fingers from desperately clutching onto the burden you constantly bear. But what you don't understand is that- yes, regret is being locked in a room, but you are the one holding the key.

it doesn't seem that i can get high enough
                                                                          or low
to find a reason for b r e a k i n g this cycle
                                                        cycle          cycle
                                                                  cycle
of trying to become drinking buddies with my demons
or unconscious of the fact that i'm slowly letting my passions
                                               die.
i'm empty
on the ins
ide but at
least i loo
k ok.

The walk of life is hard,
And sometimes we skip
And sometimes we dance
And sometimes we stumble
And sometimes we fall.

People always tell us
That it could be worse
Or it could be harder,
But honestly,
Sometimes you just don't care.

And sometimes it seems deeper
When you think of how sadness
Makes you appreciate happiness.

But sometimes life is hard,
And you just wonder
How it could ever be happy again.

And sometimes you're happy,
But you're scared,
Because it could be taken
Away.

But life is tears,
And sighs,
And songs,
And laughter.

Life is sadness,
And sorrow,
And joy,
And happiness.

Because a baby's first footsteps
Are always followed
By a baby's first fall.

Flowers only come
After rain clouds,
And bright light,
And breaking through a shell.

Life is sweeter
After storms,
And bright times,
And breaking through your shell.

Hurts ,
Trying so hard
Not to think of you.

Hurts,
To ignore you
To keep my distance.

Hurts,
To see you so close
Yet not touch you.

It's the only way
I know
To get over you.

These feelings need to die
Because they aren't doing me any good.
They've already grown roots-
Holding onto the deepest part of my mind.
& it *****.
It really really *****.
Cause it's all I think about.
It's all I see when I turn around.
& I know, oh, I know,
How dangerous these thoughts can be.
So I'll grab a knife to
Cut out these silly little feelings.
I'll take a hammer
And nail my heart up.
I'll layer bricks high
Just to keep you out of sight.
& though it might hurt just a tad,
It's probably better this way.

An ocean away
Can't keep our problems at bay.
It felt surreal holding my ticket
Just ten days ago.
A simple piece of paper
With simple black, blue, yellow, and red ink
And simple words and letters.
But this piece of paper whisked us a world away.
Took us to an island
Filled with people I didn't know
Places I've never been to
Feelings I wasn't accustomed with.
It was supposed to be an eighteen day escape
A trip to relax and, well,
Let go.
& to some extent it still is.
I've still got time to go to the beach,
Feel the waves lap at my feet,
And be somewhere other than home.
But reality has to come back into view somehow
Some day
In some sort of way.
It just always has to.
& with reality comes problems.
& with problems come worry.
& with worry comes feelings and choices
That I don't want to contend with.