I want summer.
I want to wear shorts and tank tops again.
I want to cruise in my car with the windows down, the radio blasting my jam.
I want to bike to the lake with my friends and smoke a joint as the sun sets.
I want the bugs to chirp in the night as we look up to the stars.
I want the sun to kiss my skin.
I want to go to parties and bonfires.
I want to go boating again.
I want to sneak out in the middle of the night with you and go anywhere we want, just because we can.
I want the days to be longer.
I want the nights to be warm.
I want to go to the lake with you and sit in the sand, cuddling.
I want to hold you under the night sky as the moon watches over us.
I want the rain storms, the green leaves, the summer holidays.
I want you to take me out for ice cream.
I want you to dip your feet in the warm waters of the stream with me.
I want us to be together.
I want to go to parties with you and sit by the pool, laughing.
I want you.
I want us.
I want summer.

I need more than this small town life.

I need the cities that don't sleep, the stores that don't close at nine, the people who don't go to bed at ten-thirty. I need to know there is more to life than just getting up in the morning, getting dressed, going to school and coming home to do homework for classes I don't care about, going to bed and repeating it all over the next day.

This life is not the life I was meant to live. This life is meant for someone who doesn't want to see the world. For someone who doesn't want all the knowledge this beautiful earth has to offer. I want that and anything else I am offered. I want so much more.

Small towns like this can't hold me in. They prevent me from spreading my wings, from flying toward the never-ending horizon, from seeing everything my eyes can take in. I want more. I need more.

I need to be free of these chains that restrain me from being everything I can be.

I think I need to learn what I deserve.
I've managed to get myself to thinking that what isn't worthy of me, is.
And as much as I don't want to admit that,
As mean as it sounds,
I deserve better than what I've been giving myself.
I don't deserve the cuts covering my skin.
I don't deserve the pain I'm in.
I don't deserve to feel lonely or sad or betrayed.
I don't deserve to feel tired all the time.
I deserve to sleep soundly at night, because the demons shouldn't disturb my slumber.
I deserve to not have to cry myself to sleep because I'm better than that.
I deserve to be independent because I don't need anyone.
I deserve the man who will drop everything and come running to me
The man who tells me he won't ever leave
The man who isn't afraid to argue with me
Or tell me when I'm being mean
The man who loves me for me, good and bad
The man who won't cheat or lie or break my heart
The man who wipes my tears and holds me at night.
But you?
You don't deserve me.
Because I am better than your lies.

The girl with the big eyes feared the ocean
           Because it was vast and never ending.
She was scared of the sun;
           For how much power did it truly possess?
The sounds of sobs frightened her as well --
           Why would someone cry with such passion?
But more than anything, she was terrified of being loved,
                                                        and loving in return.
The girl with the old soul was fascinated with the stars
            Because they were always shining in the darkest of nights.
She was intrigued by the songs of the birds;
            How could something so small possess something so beautiful?
The way the tide obeyed the moon was interesting too --
            Why would the waters bow to something out of their reach?
But most of all, she was in love with being in love,
                                                       and loving in return.
The girl with the scars on her arms wasn't afraid of death
             Because he had taken so much from her.
She wasn't interested in the popular opinion;
             Why should she worry about what others thought of her?
The different strategies of war didn't seem of importance either --
             Why get involved in other battles when she had her own to face?
But above all, she dared to fall in love,
                                                      and loving in return.

The damsel in distress may not always want to be saved
The violins may not always mean romance
The chorus of angels may not mean the rapture has begun
So make no assumptions about those things
Make no assumptions about the scars running along her wrists,
Or the mascara stains down her cheeks,
Or the indent from an old ring worn for years and years.
Those things mean nothing
Unless they are spoken of otherwise
So when the fire starts
And the music plays
And the house burns down
And the tears fall
And the lives are lost
And the battle is won --
Why should there be judgements made?
Who has the right to speak for those who cannot themselves?
Who turns those moments to memories,
The thoughts to ideas,
The spark to flames,
The letters to words --
Who can be held responsible for those?
It is not the ones who are presumed;
It is not those with power --
It is those without.
It is the mothers, sons, and daughters
It is the sun, stars and moon
It is the child with an empty stomach
The home with no roof
The man with no voice
The woman with no sight
The god with no power
It is you
It is me
It is us