we hurt so much sometimes
that we forget how remarkable it is
that we are all existing
right now
simultaneously
we can't meet every single person on the planet
but we can sure as hell try
because some of the people i would die to meet
stopped existing before i even started
existing
and that is a straight up tragedy

we are all existing
right now
at the same time
and it's a miracle and we forget it
because there is
so much too much
pain
but right now
it deserves to be acknowledged
because one day
we will all
be gone.

you're a really ****** friend
i became aware of it after everything started
to fall apart at the beginning of the ******* year ever,
2012, and after that,
you just kept getting
*******.
you think you have the whole world figured out
just because you
do yoga and
tour around Canada and
drive down to California and go on
meditation retreats and
play guitar

we used to be best friends and i know
that you wouldn't care if you never spoke to me again
not because you hate me, but because
you love me in a healthy, "unattached" way
(or so you say)
sorry but that's not love, that's pure indifference
and i read once that hatred is much closer to love
than indifference so
i don't really know
what to make of your
shittiness.

but every time i make an effort to contact you
i just feel like a fool
because i can't hide that i miss you,
i can't hide that i miss how
we used to be so close and how i used to feel
valued by you
you send me a "<3" and an xo and
then i don't hear from you for months and somehow
that's supposed to be enough.

you just are a really ****** friend and you
just keep
getting
*******.

sometimes i see the little green light
beside your name on
facebook chat
and i stare at it for a while, hoping a little
"hey! how are you?" might pop up
wondering how long i will have to wait
for you to notice me.
but then i feel pathetic because it's like
the majority of my life has been spent on
waiting
for people to notice me
and while half of me wants to be noticed,
the other half strongly wishes to remain
an anonymous quote you happened to
stumble upon in an abandoned library, or
a figment of your imagination
where every aspect of
myself
has been starved from each of your
senses
where you are left alone to wonder
if i ever actually existed
at all.

lonely people do lonely things
they make homes out of
empty theatres
while they hold
an invisible hand that belongs to
an invisible body that sits
in the seat next to them.

lonely people have lonely habits
they roam the corridors of empty malls,
finding themselves seeing
an entirely different person
in each reflective surface they pass.

lonely people hide in lonely spaces
like the bottom of an empty wine bottle,
or the inside of an out of tune grand piano,
gnawing on the strings and getting them caught
between each bone of the ribcage waiting
for someone to come along
and pluck them just so they can
call it music.

lonely people fall in love with lonely things,
like the inconsistency of the moon
and the overwhelming light of the sun,
getting caught between which one is better to be
in love with,
over which one will keep
the loneliest heart of all
the most
safe.

it's not my job to "let you" mother me
that's your ******* job, regardless of what i
feel or act or think or say
to you
you're supposed to fight for me
you're supposed to do anything for me
i'm going to push you away because of how much you've hurt me
and you're supposed to pull me back as hard and as meaningful
and as sincere as you possibly can.
because that's what good mothers do.

you're not supposed to say it's my fault
you're not supposed to make me feel this way
*******
*******
*******
*******

most days i can't handle how you react
to the truth which has unfortunately been the cause
of us having no relationship.
because you live a life that's a big fat lie and i refuse
to be a part of it anymore which is sad because
it has consumed you.

some days i get bored though and i just spew
everything that's true into one text message,
(because that's your primary form of communication now),
and hit "send" without even thinking
just to stir things up a bit.

it's not strength, it's pure boredom.
until you respond with flat-out hatred,
blaming me for everything
to remind me of how weak
i truly am and that
that boredom can be a very dangerous thing indeed.

i need you to call me on the phone and beg me
not to hang up
i need you to tell me you're sorry, not for all the horrible things you've done,
but for not being there when you should have been.
i know it's not all your fault, i know you're a sick woman,
but i belong to you.
i will always belong to you.

i need you to sit down with me and hold my hand and cry with me
and tell me about your past lovers and why they left you
i need you to tell me about your first kiss
i need you to tell me that being a woman is terrifying, yet empowering
and list the reasons why.
i need you to set an example.

i need you to tell me you'd do anything for me,
i need you to acknowledge that you are a liar and that
the words you use with me are almost always
meaningless.

sometimes i fantasize about one day
typing out all of the sad and angry and vicious and painful poems
i've written about you, ripping them from my
typewriter, sticking them in a tightly sealed enveloped
and leaving them in your mailbox with a note on the front that says:
"here is all that i couldn't say. goodbye."
and then getting on a plane to nowhere, anywhere
and never coming back.

i need you to be someone you are not, and perhaps
never were
maybe that's why i cling so tightly
to those pictures of you when you were 21,
because you look so
happy, beautiful, magnetic.
you look like how i'd like to remember you,
how i'd like to know you.
we were all someone different once.

i need you and i know
it's an inconvenience and for that,
i am sorry.

at least i have the photographs.