I don't want smart.
I want spontaneous.

I don't want roses and a candle-lit dinner.
I want drunken nights by the campfire.

I don't want a boy that says 'I love you'
Because I don't believe in love
And, even if I did,
I'm not emotionally capable of feeling it.
I want a boy that's okay with that.

I don't want a boy that showers me with compliments
or a knight in shining armor.
I don't want mushy love letters or romantic get aways.
I don't want a boy who's looking for a wife
because I don't believe in marriage.
And I don't want a lover.
I want a partner in crime.

I want a boy with chaos flickering in his eyes.
I want a boy who smiles a lot.
I want contagious laughter.
I want loud.
I want steamy kisses where he presses my body into his and my skin tingles.

I don't want late night phone calls or 'Good morning' texts.
I want a boy that calls me out on my *******.
I want a boy that pushes my buttons.
I want a challenge.

I don't want a boy that makes me feel pretty.
I want a boy that makes me feel alive.

I want a boy that taps on my window in the middle of the night
And brings me on a starlit adventure.

I don't want a boy that makes love.
I want a boy that will **** me raw.
And I want a boy that will let me pass out on him afterwards.
And I want a boy that won't get offended if I move away in the middle of the night
Because cuddling hurts my neck and his heartbeat is keeping me awake.

I don't want a boy that holds hands.
I want a boy that drives too fast.
I don't want a boy that babies me.
And I don't want a shoulder to cry on
Because I'm not fragile
And I can take care of myself.
I want a boy that pushes me into oncoming sprinklers
And doesn't hold anything back.

I don't want a boy that's looking for forever
because forever seems like a really long time.
I want a boy that goes day by day.

I don't want safe.
I want to go fast.
I want to live on the edge.
I want exhilaration.

I don't want to be wanted.
I want to want.

They say home is where the heart is
But what if you don't have a heart?
What if you don't have roots or walls or a spine?
What if you have nothing holding you together
And nothing tearing you apart?
What if you're a mere echo of a stray soul stuck in limbo?
A lump of atoms,
A burnt match,
A drifting vagabond,
Naked, lost, and numb in this cosmic paradox
Where satisfaction is but a distant memory

When I think of a drug
I think of your love
When I need touch
I think of our bodies
And how nice it feels
Whenever they are close
When I think of lips
I think of yours
And how well
They kiss mine
And get me lost
In a daze
A hell of a
Love spell

I just cant explain

the way everything is what it's supposed to be

even when I'm in pain

I am unadulterated. I am free

It gives me shivers

so deep in my bones

my soul decides there's no time to give up

not even when I am at my most alone

this life gives me goosebumps

Sometimes
it all seems so real
     Like this reality weighs heavily on my chest and I can’t breathe.
my stomach jumps and sends this cold fire throughout my body and I feel it.

I feel the world boiling in my consciousness and there’s no release that could possibly be worthy of this feeling.
Then I tell myself I'm just being dramatic and I tamp that feeling down with my fear and sadness and a yearning for eventualities.
Sometimes I’m not sure what I mean.
Sometimes I make stuff up.
But really I’m just an awkward almost-twenty year old who wants her life to be something.
Extraordinary
But.so.is.everyone.else.
And isn’t that right?
Isn’t that rich?
That we are all one.
A vast ocean of “ones”.
I’m really just a wave.
And it is alright to be a wave.
Because waves, they move.
It’s alright to be dramatic though. Why not?
I have this mind that wants out and I keep suppressing it. At least I’m pretty sure I do. Maybe I don’t. Maybe it is only on occasion that I tell it to shut up because it all is just too much.
That’s probably it.
Who am I really?
I guess I could list all of my traits and that could be who I am. Or what I have accomplished in life, and presto, you have…me.
Then there’s this consciousness that sits inside this flesh and controls it. That could be who I am. But that consciousness is just the acts it has achieved and the traits it has portrayed, is it not?
So I guess what I’m saying is.
The I that is me has not achieved satisfactory on my scale of living by which I measure my worth.

Not yet anyway

A constant stream of justifiable lies. Contorts what I want from my life.
What used to seem impossible is now my reality
but I'm not so sure I want it anymore
because it is different
so different than what I thought it would be

Is it worth the games I'm forced to play in order to dream?

Today is hard but tomorrow will be worse because I will wake up to hate
reflected back at myself

There are so many things I should do. There are so many things I should want.
Do we not define our own success? Each to their own version of happiness?

But all I keep thinking is
I shouldn't be eating

When I was young and bold and strong,
Oh, right was right, and wrong was wrong!
My plume on high, my flag unfurled,
I rode away to right the world.
"Come out, you dogs, and fight!" said I,
And wept there was but once to die.

But I am old; and good and bad
Are woven in a crazy plaid.
I sit and say, "The world is so;
And he is wise who lets it go.
A battle lost, a battle won--
The difference is small, my son."

Inertia rides and riddles me;
The which is called Philosophy.