what happens
when your hours of sobriety
vanish ever so slowly
from
ten to six to five to two?
what happens
when you realize this drama
you keep complaining of
has nothing to do with anyone else
and everything to do with you?
what happens when I reach the age
that you were when you
gave birth to me?
will you finally cry
tears of unselfishness,
will you curl up in my arms
and ask me to sing you a lullaby
that sums up what I've learned
about womanhood?
will you feel how it feels
to have lived so long
without comfort or courage
to stay standing strong?
what happens when I can't decide
which side of you I want to be around
when I choose to stop choosing
when I feel without losing
when you love without using
up all the good parts
of me?

but I don't want you only
in the daytime
I want you all the time
maybe because I'm greedy
maybe because I'm needy
or maybe because it is one of the most
natural wants in the world.

you want a peer to get drunk with
not a daughter to fall in love with

my heart keeps
weakening
over all of this.

once when i was hurting,
i took a picture of a wall
where someone wrote in yellow letters:
all i want is healing
healing is all i want.
i looked at that wall every day
for a year
until someone painted over it
and all that was left
was the photo i had taken.

after that,
those ten words
became my secret mantra.
i would stare at those words
during hopeless nights
with nothing but myself
and a small blade i used
when the noise got too loud.

i thought a lot about
how i felt about those words -
what they really meant,
if they were the utter *******
i was beginning to believe they were,
and what my response would be
if someone ever spoke them to me
out loud.
until finally,
on one particular suffocating evening,
i carved the words
healing is difficult
on the very top of my
right thigh
and i thought, yeah
that's a pretty good
****-you
to the world and its hope
for healing.
count me out.
healing is hopeless.
healing is a myth.
healing is difficult.
and that is the truth.

it wasn't until this year,
after my scars have long since faded,
that i think back on those ten words
and know what they actually mean.

yes, i do want healing
and yes, healing is all i want.
i'm doing it right now
and i am scared
and i am shaking
but i am doing it,
i am doing it.
truth is,
i've waited for this kind of bravery
all my life.

i remember when you handed me a cloth
and a bucket full of soap and said:
"scrub."
i started to cry and said:
"you're treating me like i am Cinderella!"
you got so mad i hid in the living room closet
for four hours before you realized
i was gone.

i remember going grocery shopping with you
just so i could ride in the front of the cart.
you would always let me eat a chocolate donut
from the bakery section and i would always
make sure to be finished it by the time we got
to the till so you wouldn't have to
pay for it.

i remember the first time i stole a pack of gum
you didn't realize i had taken it until you watched me
unwrap a piece and stick it in my mouth right in front of you
when we got to the car.
you took me by the wrist and made me apologize to the
cashier, you told me i was bad and to never
do that again.

i remember being little and not wanting
to go to school because i didn't
want to leave you. sometimes you would let me
stay home and cuddle and watch movies with you
when i felt especially sad.

i remember you giving me piano lessons
and telling me to count out loud while
i practiced, meanwhile i had already
memorized the entire piece and was
making up new songs of my own.

i remember you telling me that i could always
tell you anything, that you would never judge me,
that you would always be there to listen and
comfort me. i remember believing you
and i remember the first time i realized
you didn't even know you were lying.

i remember sitting in the backseat with your
head on my shoulder while my Father drove you
to the detox centre. you kept saying how scared you were,
lighting cigarette after cigarette, squeezing my hand
so hard it cut off my circulation. your tears stained my sleeves,
and your vulnerability stained my heart.

i remember deciding it was time to lose you, finally,
on my own terms, for i had so many times felt as though
you were already a walking crime scene without the yellow
tape to ward people off. i tried but i couldn't make
a home out of that. it was time to learn the meaning
of safety, again.

i remember hearing your voice over the phone
after not hearing it for what felt like years,
and although you were a mess of tears and withdrawal
and ******, i could hear the love in your voice
and for once i felt my heart fill
with the temporary thing it has always wished for
consistently.

they placed ten pin bowling *****
into the backpacks of the ballerinas,
strapped them on their backs,
and made them dance,
lightly on wet cement
and if they made a single mark
then they were  sentenced
to choose between
a thousand lovers without a single
love
or a thousand loves without a single
lover
and if any of them could not choose
then they
were buried alive
underneath a new round
of wet cement
for the next group
of uncertain ballerinas
to dance upon,
lightly.

if you choose her I
will understand. My heart is
breaking regardless.

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
*******.

I am so completely aware of the fact that I have a voice
and so completely afraid to use it because
of what I might say. Because I have a lot to say.
I might say things like I'm not
okay. I might say things like I'm lost and I don't know what
i'm doing, I'm scared and I'm sad, and I'm selfish too. I might
say things like trying to be a better person is hard and
exhausting and sometimes giving up is as tempting as
failing a final exam out of sheer indifference because you know
someone is going to do better than you anyway. I might say things
about being a woman, and how it's so easy to remain silent
in this society, how easy it is to pretend like you don't have an
opinion, you don't have a voice, how easy it is to believe
that you're just an object for men to look at and call you
****, that you're a threat to other women because they're too insecure
to realize that they are your sisters and that sisters should be sticking
together, not mocking or criticizing each other
when the other isn't listening.
I might say things about how sometimes I wonder why
I was brought into this world, because it's cold and it's violent
and it's difficult and it revolves around money. And money is scary
and intimidating because it will never bring anyone happiness and yet
it is the one thing that everyone wishes they had more of. The one thing
that nobody has enough of.
Enough.
I want to feel good enough.
I want to wake up in the morning and feel proud to be a woman,
I want to stop seeing and treating myself as if I am an object,
I want to look into the mirror and have oceans of self respect
pour out of my eyes and nourish my heart.  
I want to be able to walk through a mall or browse social media networks
without being bombarded by images of the latest female pop star
who is making the current female generation look like
self degrading cheap *** objects whose primary purpose
is to please males acting as a an open welcome sign blank canvas
for humiliating labels and comments and
spreading shame as if it were a highly contagious disease.
I want to tell you that you hurt me.
I want to tell you that I used you to hurt myself.
I want to look at you and tell you I am sorry.
I want to tell you that I am trying and have you believe me.
I want to walk outside and hug a stranger and have them say
"Thank you, I needed that."
I want to make a difference, I want to use my voice.
I am so completely aware of these things.
I am so completely afraid. Vulnerability comes
with living a true and fulfilling life. And I am afraid
of that. I want to be a leader in the sense
that I don't continue to act as a vacuum, always *******
false words out of people, consuming them as if they were my last
meal on earth, as an attempt to heal the tiny wounds underneath my skin,
as an attempt to feel whole and wanted and useful and important,
as an attempt to pretend to have never been the people I have in fact been.  
I don't want that. I want life. I want to open my mouth and have
floods rushing into the ears of others screaming
"HERE I AM AND I AM AND YOU ARE TOO AND THAT ALONE IS ENOUGH."
I want to look up at the sky and know
that God himself created this masterpiece for all of us,
because he loves us. Because God has no grandchildren and
we are all precious and worthy and forgiven.
I want to say I love you and I want you to feel it.
I want to say that to myself and really feel it too.
I want to know myself.
I want to know you.

Today my father is 50 years old.
Today I am proud to say
That I have the most
Compassionate, inspiring, healing, understanding, supportive father
I could ever ask for.

He continues to teach me what it means
To be brave,
To be motivated,
To blossom,
To be alive,
Every day.

I am so proud to call him my father
I am the luckiest girl in the world,
I really am.

Happy birthday daddy.

the summer passed me by
as quick as the spider that runs
across my bedroom floor when i
can't sleep at night.
catch me if you can it says,
reminding me of the
inevitable.
summer is like that,
it comes and you watch your friends
leave and you hug them and
you fill in the spaces of silence
inside the margins of your notebook
knowing full well that writing the same
sentence over and over does not make
the time pass any faster. but you don't care.
then they come home and sit you down and say,
"want to see the pictures i took on my trip?"
and you always say yes
when you always mean no
and you smile and you tell them
how nice of a time it looked like they had.
and when they ask you how your summer was,
you shrug and say "good"
when really you mean
uneventful, restless, fleeting,
unmemorable.
lonely.
you want to tell them about the two weeks
you spent home alone sleeping on the couch,
watching Disney movies,
you want to tell them how paralyzed you were
by lack of affection and touch and
laughter.
you want to tell them how the heat only
amplified that gaping hole, confirming
your sinking suspicions of always feeling like
you were missing something.
you want to tell them to slow down,
to listen.
you want to tell them how scared you are,
now that summer is over.
you want them to confess to you
how terrified they are, too.
you want to reach into their eyes and find
a river of undeniable resilience
that might sustain you for the next four months,
up until you leave this city.
you want them to spend the night with you
just so you can remember what it feels like
to be held, even if it's only for one night.
summer's almost gone,
despite the remaining heat and humidity.
you challenge the night with one-sided conversations
with yourself in the dark,
even though you know
that is the last place you could ever find
some clarity.
you count the backpacks on the children
and the number of minutes it takes
for a traffic jam to subside.
summer's almost gone,
and you are running out of places
to hide.

sometimes i just get so sick
of how fake everyone is to each other like
"Hey, how are you?! You look fantastic!"
i struggle everyday to stay alive and i am running on eight shots of espresso and no sleep
"I'm doing really well, thanks! Yeah, you look great too. I love your shoes where did you get them?"
"Oh thanks, I found them at a thrift store for ten dollars. But I love your lipstick! Where did you get it?"
You don't actually love my lipstick, you just need to return the compliment because you're probably at as much of a loss for words right now as I am
"Oh, thanks, um, some convenience store probably. I don't remember."
Moment of silence
"So how are things at home? How's school? I haven't seen you in a while... Well there was that time we had plans but you cancelled because you had to work or something. It's nice to finally see you."
Yeah I cancelled on purpose and lied about having to work because we have nothing to talk about anymore and you are somehow still so attached to this friendship that has disintegrated that you refuse to acknowledge
"Home is good, school is fine, and yeah sorry about that one time, you know how it is. Work can be pretty unpredictable sometimes! How are you though? How is your boyfriend and all that jazz?"
"Oh my gosh, so great. We're moving in a house together right now, his parents are helping out which is great because I cannot afford a mortgage right now! Hahahaha."
Right, because you're 21 and you have your **** together and I don't but I can't tell you that because you'd never understand and we don't relate on that level of realness wow what do we have in common i can't remember i'm trying to remember but i can't
"Wow, good for you! That's a big step. Well I hope that works out for you. I have to go catch my bus now, but I'm glad we got to catch up, love."
forced hug
"Yeah me too, you are so beautiful and wonderful and I really really miss you. Don't be such a stranger, okay?"
but we are strangers why can't you just admit it to yourself so we can move on
"Yeah! Sorry I just get so busy. Nice to see you too and I miss you lots too. Talk soon?"
"Definitely."
*not

I’m older now so I try to forget

But I get flashbacks

Of the every weekend endless parties

The music the drinking the smoke the laughter

The audible hell that was

The garage

The pretend family that was

Us

Me walking in to play you a song before bed

Which would turn into

You drunkenly doing your best at showing me how

To play Satie’s Première Gymnopédie


Which would end in me wondering how to say goodnight

While you would cry silently about nothing

On my shoulder.

I’m older now so you think I’d forget

But I remember

The first birthday you had after your brother died when

You downed a bottle or three in the span of an hour or two

I went upstairs to make sure you were okay

Only to find your friends had carried you from

The garage to your bed

Which made for the most perfect

Stumbling distance

Any drunk could ever imagine.

I’m older now so I pretend to forget

But the memories crumble with clarity at night

You, opening the bottle at five and passing out at one or two in the morning

Only coming in the house to **** and eat and banter

Oh, the endless banter

I had fun with messing with your mind and playing with your words

When you were gone

As you so often were, every night of my

Entire span of pretending to blossom. I never knew who you were going to be -

“Your dad is a drug addict you know. He’s not perfect either. What are you staring at?”

“Oh baby, you’re so brilliant. You know that?! You’re brilliant!”

“I miss him so much. I’m so so sad and lonely…”

“It’s not all about you, you know. Don’t let it go to your head.”

I learned how to be a numb construction worker,

Constantly working on the foundation of the walls

I was building to protect myself from you.

I’m older now so you’d think I’d forget,

You’d think the memories would fade with each passing year

You’d think the wounds would have healed by now,

You’d think I could call myself a strong young woman.

But I can’t, I’m tormented by remembering, I’m haunted still

I am a ghost

The voices yell at me, tell me to throw in the towel already,

Get rid of everything what a waste of space. They sound like you.

Sometimes I miss it, I miss the hell that was living with you.

I miss the consistency, the predictable time-frame in which I could depend

On you to be emotionally unavailable. When I close my eyes, I can still see

Your silhouette swaying in the hallway, your hand fumbling for the light switch

The demon that would come out of your mouth every time I said

I love you.

But I’m older now, I try to forget.

I half succeed in daylight

But the memories crumble with clarity at night

The memories crumble with clarity at night.

you made me so sick
you made me so sick i made myself sick
with the intention of ending up in the hospital
or better yet, dead
all in hopes that i could give you a taste
of your own medicine:
layers and layers and layers of pain.

but that was one long drawn out evil endeavour
and i'm glad i didn't succeed
because life shouldn't be spent with the intention
of trying to die
just to prove something to someone else
because no matter how much death
is glamorized in this ******* society
there is nothing glamorous
about it
and in the end you will prove
nothing

there is nothing glamorous about
sticking your head in an oven
or drinking yourself into a stupor every single night
only to forget what you did or said or felt the next morning
there is nothing glamorous about
sticking your fingers down your throat
or carving poetic words into your inner thigh
just so you can feel or un-feel something

trying to die
does not make you
a tortured artist
it makes you
a miserable soul

yes, pain is useful
to create
without it i probably would not be writing this
but it does not define you
**** them all
**** society
stop trying to die to prove yourself to someone
dying proves nothing

take a hammer to the mirror
it's only a piece of glass
run into an open field and scream your lungs out
cry all of your fears out of your system like you did when you were five years old
stop being ashamed for feeling things
write down what kind of person you were this time last year
then next to it,
write down what kind of person you are right now
look at how far you've come
look at how far you've yet to go
be proud of yourself
think of the people who have left you
think of how good it will feel when you forgive them
think of someone who has left their footprint on your heart
now go tell them you love them
now leave your footprint on someone else's heart
make sure you tell them you love them

you matter
you matter
you matter
you matter
i swear to God i'm not joking
i don't ******* care if you don't believe me
and it isn't going to be easy
be terrified.
be brave.

you matter
you matter
you matter

**you matter.

i remember the time
i told you all of my secrets  that one night
you drove me home

"please don't hate me"
i kept repeating
you looked at me all wide eyed as if
that thought had never crossed your mind

your innocence
should have
rubbed off on me

i still wish there could have been something different
i had said or done
that would have made you
stay

you made me feel accepted that night
but it was short lived
as all good things are

my heart was too malleable
for you
i will always envy your
penchant for detachment

i’m sorry i wrote about you.
i’m sorry i tried to immortalize you by placing your existence
in my heart and having it bleed out in black ink.
i’m sorry i fell in love with you.
i’m sorry i made you feel inspired and desirable, when you have
someone who probably loves you very much waiting for you
every night when you get home.
i’m sorry we can’t be together.
even though you haven’t made a decision yet, the silence between us
tells me all i need to know.
you’ll choose her.
you’ll always choose her.
i’m sorry i wrote about you.
even though i’m not, really
when i say that it’s more of an apology to myself
for letting your presence completely dismantle
any idea i’ve ever had about love.
don’t pick up the pieces. leave me scattered.
this is my mess to mend.
you’re on a never-ending racetrack
with no real intention of stopping for anything, let alone
a heartless hitchhiker like me, waiting for you
to put your life on the brakes.
i get it.
i’m a meaningless distraction,
a pleasant diversion,
a secret flower you keep hidden underneath all
the things you’re too afraid to say.
i will never be more than that.
i get that now.
well i’m sorry,
but my thumb is getting tired.
from now on, i think
i’ll walk home.

I'm beginning to wonder
If some people from the past just
Belong in the past

Old friends are wondering
Where I went,
They message me and I just
Can't bring myself to answer

And I can't find a reasonable explanation
To give them other than

Certain parts of me are broken
They have vanished and I don't know what to tell you other than

Things are different now

I'm not really sorry I missed your birthday
I'm not really sorry I forgot to answer your questions
It's just I have nothing to give, or to say

Things are different now
You hold pieces of who I used to be
I just can't seem to bring those parts of myself back

So tomorrow is your birthday, you asked me what I had planned
I gave you an answer as vague as a lucid dream
Perhaps I no longer am afraid
To disappoint you
Perhaps I no longer have a strong desire
To be around you
I'm not sure what it is but
Something's lost and has been lost
For a long time

I just can't seem to bring whatever it is that's lost
Back

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.

Health walks into the room and spots me in a second. He orders a scotch on the rocks and motions me over toward the bar. I pretend not to see him. I am having a deep conversation with Death, and it must not be disturbed. Death is telling me about her experience with Life, and how they like to share a good **** every once in a while. “You should call him up, he loves a cruel tease.” She says, holding her red wine with a wink. I think about her suggestion and ask for Life’s number. She looks around in her purse, pulls out a small crumpled piece of paper, hands it to me and says, “If he doesn’t pick up the first time, don’t leave a message. Wait for him to call you.” I nod,  fold it, and put it in my pocket.
I walk over to the bar where Health is sitting and order a tall Diet Coke with ice, indifferent to his presence.
“So, haven’t seen you around here much lately.” He says nonchalantly.
“I’ve been busy. Among other things.” I reply cooly.
“What kind of things?”
“I dunno. I’ve just been preoccupied.”
“With what?” He persists.
“I dunno… Sadness. Disappointment. Uncertainty.” I say.
“Ahh… Those are tough preoccupations. I met with Sadness the other day, she couldn’t stop crying when we were having lunch. She diluted her soup! And Disappointment, well, I haven’t seen him in ages. He sends me a Christmas card once every couple years or so. As for Uncertainty, well she lives in my basement. She makes me cookies instead of paying rent. She can never hold down a job for more than a few hours really. But she sings beautifully in the shower!” He smiles.
“Have you ****** Life?” I ask.
Health bursts out in bouts of uncontrolled electric laughter.
“Have we ******?! Honey, we have four children! Hope, Recovery, Freedom and Passion.”
“But she’s cheated on you with Death.” I say.
“How do you know?” He asks.
“Death told me.”
“You know better than to believe what Death tells you, don’t you?”
I look down at my fingernails. Jagged, short blue stubs.
“I dunno…”
“Have you met my children?” He asks.
“Briefly, at a party once.” I reply.
Health closes his eyes and takes a long, deep breath. He whispers something I don’t quite understand, something in a different language. The bar is now packed with people, and the music is blaring. The song “Language is a Virus” by Laurie Anderson is playing in the background. The atmosphere is chaotic yet Health maintains a peaceful composure.
Health slowly opens his eyes and says to me,
“It was lovely chatting with you. I hope to see you around somewhere again soon.”
He puts on his leather jacket and helmet, and walks out of the bar.
I remain seated, watching the chaos, with my hand in my pocket, feeling the folded piece of paper that Death had given to me mere moments ago. I just sat there, with Laurie’s lyrics looming about my head:
“Paradise is exactly like where you are right now. Only much, much better.”

When someone loves their addiction more than they love you,
they will give you things
like candleholders and dried strawberries,
iPhones and giftcards,
midnight drunk texts,
they will hold out
an ashtray for your pain,
but they will cover their ears for they
have long since stopped wanting
to listen.
They will send you
on trips that lead to nowhere
but a dead end of endless guilt.
They will ****
with your head until you're convinced
that blackmail is love
and spilling the truth is hate.
They will tell you relentlessly
how much they love you,
how much they need you,
how you're the only person that doesn't leave them.

When someone loves their addiction more than they love you,
they will disappear for weeks, you will
forget what their voice sounds like
you will begin to miss
perhaps an idea you had of them
you will begin to question
if they ever did exist in the first place.
They will use you and you will think it's love,
your friends will shake their heads and tell you to run for dear life
in the opposite direction
and you will push them away because
they couldn't possibly understand the depth of this love,
they weren't there when you had to pick up the pieces,
and you will tell yourself
that they aren't there, still.

You will beg for them to stop
Maybe someday, maybe someday they will say
and you will hope and you will hope and you will hope
but they won't, they won't, they won't.

You will slowly begin to crumble
You will master the art of appearing strong
and you will find new people to save
thinking maybe just maybe
this time will be different
this time will be different
but it never is,
it never is.

And then one day you will have to make a choice
between truly living or truly dying, because yes, you see,
it will get that bad.
You will cry for days,
you will settle on anything less
than love.

You will have to finally face the truth
because something's gotta give,
it might as well be a first
or second
or third
or billionth attempt
at sewing yourself back up.

twenty one and burned out
like a cup over a candle.
"you're so young, you're too young,
you're too young to even realize how young you are."
he said to me before i went home the other night.
i laughed and tried to believe him, while trying to laugh in a way
that would display the many lives that lay within me.
i wish the world would start noticing
how looks are deceiving and hearts are receding and bodies are forgiving.
i've spent too much time living the lives of the ghosts that haunt me.
i'm exhausted from moving out and moving in,
trying different lives on like clothes that don't fit -
peering into the lives of other girls who tell me
that they are addicted to feeling accomplished and not
defeated, while i nod in silence,
then spend the entire night awake, wondering
what they mean.
i've dreamt up a million ways you could have said goodbye.
i've spent two years in the waiting room of hope,
only to be called into the office of indifference,
which happens every time i show up
to my appointments with forgiveness.
i'm still waiting to meet him.
but it's alright, my name will come up on the list
of names soon.
it's all over now and i've grown into being glad.
i learned patience the way i learned to walk.
sometimes i miss it, the way the sadness was a lifestyle,
but novelties become exhausting and boring and
so overly dramatic and annoying.
i'm still frustrated, you know.
even though i make it look easy.
being pretty is like putting on a movie you have no
intention of paying attention to.
it's easy and i don't care.
by saying that, i mean i don't need you,
the way you think i look like i do.
what i'm trying to say is, i still love you
even though admitting mistakes is not
something humans brag about very often.

I’ve become more aware lately

Of the preciousness

Of time

The way my little brother smiles when I walk in the door

The wasp that kept circling around my Grandma and I today,

When we were sitting outside eating lunch.

The way the streetlight looked through the trees

My silhouette on the pavement,

Reminding me

How much I’ve been wounded and yet

I’m still here.

The little girl that stood in the middle of a puddle,

Stomping and laughing

In her pink rainboots.

“Gotta have fun on a rainy day somehow!” Her mother said to me

As I stood there smiling,

Noticing the beauty

In the simplicity of that moment.

Time is precious and life

Is a gift

And it’s completely irrelevant

If anyone would disagree.

"I'm going to the washroom. If we lose each other let's meet at the bookstore, by the entrance. I'll be right back." I said.
But when I came out of the washroom, they were gone. And suddenly, reality hit.
I am alone surrounded by people
In a mall
Blaring christmas music
Where did they go
I lost them
What if I never see them again
What if someone among all of these people has a gun and we all die before we can hug each other goodbye
I'm alone I'm so alone I'm so alone
I'm ******* alone
I can't breathe.
It was like being underwater with my eyes open
Swimming in a sea full of unfamiliar faces
And blaring christmas music
And the sound of my pounding heart
And failing lungs
Screaming at me
YOU ARE ALONE YOU ARE ALIVE AND YOU ARE ALONE AND THAT IS THE TRUTH WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT.

So I bought a coffee because I choose to believe caffeine calms me down
And then I stepped outside
And cried and cried and cried and cried
I cried for the fragility of life hit me harder than it ever has
How fleeting it is
How terribly tragic it is that all of us love each other so much
And yet we will all die alone.
I cried for how close I felt to death at that moment
I cried for my inability to pinpoint exactly what had made me so upset
I cried because I felt like a lost little 5-year old wondering why no one was holding her hand
I cried because I missed you so much especially at that moment
I cried because I realized how incredibly weak and ridiculous I was acting
I cried because I couldn't even make one lousy phone call to someone I love so they could calm me down
I cried because I felt paralyzed
I cried because the time it takes to say "I'll be right back" is enough time to lose someone
Forever

Once my lungs & heart finally came alive again, I went back inside that stupid mall
Full of stupid people shopping for their stupid christmas presents in sync with that stupid christmas music
And you were standing there, at our meeting spot with a smile on your face and
Relief and relief and relief and you said
"There you are! We thought we lost you!"
And so did I, I thought,
*So did I.

i probably fell in love with you
the moment you asked if you could have
one of my menthol Marlboros
it's too bad
the closest i'll ever get to you was
the moment you lit your cigarette
off of mine, inches away
from my face
it's too bad
i wouldn't let you get closer
even if you tried
it's too bad
she gets to call you hers
it's too bad
i'll probably never see you again anyway.

She was five years old when she first stepped on a plane
The stranger next to her smiled and asked,
“Where are you headed, honey?”
She gazed out the window, smiled and said
“To the one place it doesn't hurt to stare.
I'm going to the moon."
Her mother brushed her hair back gently and whispered to the stranger,
“It must have been so beautiful to be so oblivious, hey?”
And they both laughed discreetly as if she hadn’t heard.

But what they didn’t know
Was that she was always listening
And she knew
That they
Were wrong.

She was struck with sadness when the plane landed
And she found herself standing on the same planet she had left,
She cried for days
That was her first taste
Of true disappointment.

“What is reality?” She would ask her mother
Every night before bed.
“Reality is what you know.
Nothing is as it seems though, baby.
Sweet dreams.” Her mother would say,
As she turned out the light and gently shut the door.

That was her first taste
Of self awareness.

From then on she knew
That she would never again rely
On other people to give her what she needed -
Answers, affection, safety, love.

From then on she knew
That she would always  be dependant on
Everyone she did not know,
Everything she could not touch,
And every place she could not be.

That was the beginning
Of when she split herself in
Two
And it all began
With almost landing on the moon.

one of the greatest tragedies
is not only idolizing someone as a teenager
but have them inspire you to the point where you are
completely, exactly, perfectly
yourself
in the purest sense
because you identify with their simplicity, their humbleness
and the way they write not for fame, but for themselves
only to have time pass, where you are stripped down to nothing but
a naked lost sad scared wide-eyed adult
and that person is long gone only to be found
on tv screens and magazine covers, decked out
in golden dresses and singing for billions in prestigious stadiums and arenas
both of you as far apart and as distant as a corpse from its soul
no trace of inspiration to be found

i used to love you
but now you wear too many necklaces
and too much makeup
and you can no longer write
worth ****.

And I thought of all the people
I so desperately wished I could
Stick my broken hands into
And rearrange their hearts to make
Them love me
And I thought of the million ways
I mutilated myself to fit the mould
Of another persons needs
And I felt the presence of absence
All over again
And I thought of the serenity prayer
They say in AA meetings,
The part about accepting
The things you cannot change,
The courage to change the things you can and the wisdom to know
The difference and I started to cry
Because if the sky can rain one minute and snow the next without
Knowing the difference
Then how on earth can I even fathom
Accepting the fact that I cannot
Even begin to tell you the root of
How I first began to rot?
Because you won’t listen and I won’t spill and my heart is an empty shell I wish you’d fill
But you can’t and you won’t
And there’s no way around it but
If I can’t accept it at least I can
Think about it
And thinking is not better than
Accepting
But it’s something
And something is always
Better than nothing.

i still have those pictures
from your disposable camera
you gave me five years ago
when my hair was still long,
when we were still in love.
i don't look at them anymore.
and to be honest,
i don't even know where they are
or when i looked at them last
but i find comfort in knowing
they are taking up some space,
somewhere, in this disorganized room of mine.

i still have your name carved into
the top of my ceiling
which is funny because
you were always the one so quick to define
the meaning of impermanence.
i guess all ceilings eventually
collapse.
i think i clung too tightly to the possibility
of you never leaving, and so i carved
your name into my ceiling to comfort myself
during all the noise that not even your name
could silence.
i don't look at it anymore.
and even though you're gone, there are some people
who leave traces of themselves behind
in the most obscure places that not even they
become aware of.

i still have all of the love letters
you wrote me when i was sixteen.
they are sitting in a box beneath a pile of books and papers
on the bottom of my bookshelf.
i don't read them anymore.
i contemplated burning them more than once,
but i stopped myself because
what's the point in loving someone if you can't even
prove that the love was actually there
after everything has been said and done,
after all of it has left you?
i get so terrified,
to think that perhaps memory
is more unreliable than anything, and so i keep the things
you gave me as secret stash to show
that
we
happened once.

sometimes i wonder what it would have been like
to have given you the chance to explain yourself
face to face
i will probably never
know what it feels like to land on the moon
but that does not stop me from
gazing at it night after night paralyzed
with wondering
how anything could ever be that beautiful.
somethings should be left unseen
while others, simply left
unknown.

The house that I grew up in
went up for sale today.
The house I lived in
from ages eight to eighteen.
The house I wrote my first songs in.
The house I had endless sleepovers in with my childhood friends.
It was in this place that I grew
(And wilted)
And grew
(And wilted).
That house is a land mine of memories. So many ghosts.
Ghosts of my uncle playing guitar in the living room.
Ghosts of my mother at three am telling me between drunken slurs how irresponsible I am for forgetting to turn off the basement light.
Ghosts of my parents friends coming over to “jam”.
Ghosts of me singing old jazz tunes with my grandfather as he played the grand piano.
The music, the laughter.
The drugs, the alcohol.
The screaming the yelling
The trying the crying.
The endless fighting.
The hopelessness and then
The hope.
The loneliness that never left me
Even when I left the house.
The late night hysterical phone calls to my first ever boyfriend,
who brought me about as much comfort as my mascara stained pillowcase.

The house that I grew up in went up for sale today.
The for sale sign is on the lawn.


I guess a home
Really has nothing to do with a house
After all.
Or at least that’s what I keep
Telling myself.

Your love was a cage

Made out of bone

I stayed there, quietly

Locked in

Sometimes I would carve things into

The cage

Things like

“Help”

“I’m trapped”

“I want to die”

I was small enough to

Escape between the bars

But I was scared

Because I knew how much escaping would

Disappoint you.

You fed me flower petals and cotton candy

I fed you pretty words and kissed your cheeks

Never once did I feel

Perfect

Like I do right now

Out of the cage and into the light,

No longer homesick for the chapel

Of inconsistency

The rain falls on this roof

As he sleeps beside me

And for the first time in a long time,

I want to be loved.

hey baby
hi
i'll miss you when you're gone
no you won't
yes i will
okay
i like your scarf
thanks
are you wearing my old sweater?
yeah i've had it for forever
i do want that back someday it is a special sweater
okay
would you like some blueberries?
no thanks

i put on Beck's 'sea change' to drown out
the sound of the things we wouldn't say
the music replaced the melancholy
i postponed feeling
i'm good at putting a rain-check
on feelings
i think i learned it from you
it is both
a curse and a skill,
what can i say?
you taught me well.

i watched you remove your black nail polish
i watched you put on a new coat of black nail polish
i lit another cigarette,
inhaling what i wish i could say,
exhaling what i knew i couldn't.
an hour went by and i could no longer
breathe

i have to go
okay baby
have a good eleven days
you too, have fun on your trip. i'll miss you.
no you won't
yes i will
okay
goodbye*
goodbye

you came to me at a time in my life
when i needed it the most,
for it was literal life or death,
though neither of us
really knew that then.
i didn't know what hit me until later on,
when you mailed me your journal and trusted me
with the deepest darkest terrifyingly beautiful parts
of you. when i gave you endless warnings about how
difficult i am to have around and you put your hands
in the air and said
i don't care. i love you. i'm choosing to stay.
it was like i was waiting all my life to have someone
say those words and actually mean them.
you meant them.
i have, to this day, never met anyone
so completely compassionate, sensitive, intriguing, magnetic, inspiring,
funny, self aware, hopeful, wise, intelligent,
unconditionally loving, and forgiving
as you.
i often find it difficult to write
about you because i become so frustrated when
i attempt to come up with the right words
to accurately capture
how much i love you.
let me just say: there are no words for this.
words words words
i need words to describe
how everlastingly thankful i am to have met you,
how you have taught me more about what it means
to be a woman than my own mother,
how God heals me through your love and undying
support.
how i've regained so much of my self worth by having you
around, reminding me who i am
and how important it is to remember who you are,
each and every day.
this is not like any other love i have ever known.
this is pure,
this is real,
this is rare.
distance is the only thing that separates us,
but even that fails to keep us apart.
i miss you i miss you i miss you
i love you i love you i love you
you are the most precious creature i have ever
had the privilege to know.
*i will see you soon, love.

"Want to hang out tonight?"
"No, sorry. I have plans. How about tomorrow during the day? I'll make you your favourite meal and give you the rest of your birthday presents!"
"No thanks."
"Why not?"
"I have plans."
"Sounds like a mind game. I'm not in."
"Maybe if you were there for me when I needed you it wouldn't have to be a game."
"I invited you over tomorrow. Maybe if you didn't give me your guilt trips I would be.
I still love you."

you are
a complete contradiction &
you make me want to die.

endless nights
spent on
wondering
if I cried myself to sleep
loud enough
would it wake you from
your nightmare of a life
and cause you to shout through a megaphone
across the sky
from your hot air balloon and say
"there is no place like home"
would the echo of your voice
be enough to convince the clouds
to let you land safely  in my arms
so I could finally whisper
"welcome home."

Some things will never
Go back to the way they were
And that saddens me

oh, what a thrill
to want him so bad it makes you ill
a desire so strong it makes you weak
he who ties your ******* knot so that you cannot speak

he whose gaze penetrates your very core
he who makes you forget what your heart is for
you do not tell him, you do not lie
he makes you forget you ever wished to die

she is probably calling him now on the phone
asking him who has been writing these silly poems
he will lay down beside her when he gets home
she will forget the importance of being alone

oh, what a thrill
to want him so bad it makes you ill
a love so unrequited, i must endure
i am reminded why prevention is better than cure

love is
the sound of the voice of a girl who lives
3,781.8 km away
who calls you just to hear you say
Hello,
i love you,
i am not only here
but i am
listening.
Because long distance charges don't apply
to those who have telephone wires attached
to their hearts.

love comes
in waves of
strange connections,
painstaking inventions
that enable
the sad to meet the sad
the sick to meet the sick
where only a fragile minority find each other and decide
to stay and not feed each others
insatiable demons
because there is a mutual understanding
of what it is to be at war with oneself
constantly fighting to get through
another day
where something as small as a
hello,
i love you
is enough to make you want
to stay.

love is
a series of lessons you learn
from a girl
who is wise beyond her years
who is too young to be so sad
who is too smart to be so uncertain
who is too brilliant to realize her own
abysmal radiance.

Dearest Hillary,
in exactly one month
you will be greeting me
with the same open heart you always have
the only difference is
i will finally be able
to feel
it
beat.

I don’t have the energy
to convince people I’m not
worth leaving anymore. I used to,
I used to fight for everything I thought I was worth to the point
of being paralyzed by my own
pointless loyalty. But after so many
failed attempts at holding on to
friendships that had become one sided
I have come to the conclusion that
it’s just like sand slipping through
fingers. A futile endeavour that will
only leave you crippled with the
weight of knowing that you can’t
undo what’s already been done. You
can’t save what cannot be saved.
No matter who it is, no matter who
I wish it wasn’t, I have watched many people come and go
as they please in and out of my
life and in the end they always leave.
I think it’s a miracle if you can find
one person who does not leave you.
One person who you grow to love
and trust, who waters you until
you have blossomed into the most
beautiful and potent flower in all
of existence. One person
who does not save you
but helps you save
yourself. I have. And that
is the greatest gift of all.
Leave, leave, leave. Go ahead.
They all do.
And it’s alright. Because I found an
angel that will always be right
beside me even if right beside me
is a thousand miles
away.

you hurt me in a way that does not
fill me with anger and resentment or a desire
to get some kind of revenge on you
it's the kind of hurt where i feel like it was all my fault and it's hard
because we have a history
and there's an automatic attachment that comes
with that
but somedays i just get so scared that you might hate me and i think
in these moments i remember the few instances where you made
me feel loved
and i try to hold onto those memories for no
good reason at all i'm just so afraid
of not being loved
because i don't feel worth loving
because i'm not very good at
loving myself
and even though
you are the last person i actually need to be loved by,
for some reason i just can't let go
of the fear that you don't love me and i think that's because
of my refusal to accept that you never
loved me at all

waking up beside you felt like a failure,
talking to you felt like a compulsion,
you liked me because i was unavailable in every way
except physically
and i liked you because you were unavailable in every way
except you provided an inconsistent comfort
that i hadn't felt in years

i don't know who to blame
to must be you
it must be you
you were the first person who removed my insides
and stuffed me with false reasons for why
you felt like nothing needed to change
and i believed you because i have a heart
that is easily manipulated
i don't like thinking about it
but it sticks to my mind like a moth sticks to a lightbulb
and there is no switch
to shut
it off.

you ask me what i remember from the time those photographs
were taken and i will tell you:
nothing.

i do not remember the bittersweet wounds
i carved into so-called flesh, no
i do not recall the sleepless nights spent
wailing for mother to come back with arms
outstretched apologies rolling off the tongue, no
i do not remember the bones that ached
the swollen jaws
the inhale-exhale-inhale-hoping it would be
my last, no
i do not recall the fleeting lovers, the restlessness disguised as
wanderlust, no
i do not remember bonding with strangers in our
ignorant comas  nor do i recall
telling you you mattered to me
when you so clearly did not, no
i do not recall the lagging thud-thud of my
failing freight train heartbeat
i do not recall the passing days that handcuffed me to the
pride of being functional
i do not recall the futile retracing of my
weary footsteps
nor the devastating  discovery of the melted snow
i do not remember the betrayal nor the heartbreak
that trampled over me when you left
nor do i recall telling you i was sorry
when i so clearly was not.

you ask me what i remember from the time those photographs
were taken and i will tell you:
i was empty.
i remember nothing.

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.

I suppose I had always wanted you to give up on me

I was always testing you to see if or when you would.

Finally, you did.

But it’s not all entirely my fault - you also put yourself in the position

of the antagonizer,

of the predator and the prey.

I was always just waiting for you to pounce on yourself

accidentally thinking you were pouncing on me

but I have long since given up on

falling for your traps. I set my own and fall for my own

and that is how it has always been.

Put me in a vulnerable straightjacket and I will talk you into trying it on for yourself,

Swiftly and seductively.

Dare me to tie you to a train track for the thrill of it and I will laugh and kiss you on the forehead and whisper goodbye

as the sound of a moving train will be heard in the near distance.

Blame me for disappointing you, because taking responsibility for your own feelings

Is always hard and close to impossible.

But I will always know who disappointed who, I will always know what kind of damage we willingly caused ourselves.

I am a mermaid that has fallen out of longing for legs

The only light that guides me now is that of the moon

And her unequivocal yet ghostlike offer

Of reprieve.

Sweet princess of swanlike imperfection,
how darkness embarked upon you,
slowly unbuttoned your dress until you lay bare,
barely there
frozen in denial.
I am overwhelmed with the grief of having had you,
the same grief that has always been screaming
you can run but you can't hide
the same grief I have been trying to bury all my life.
I weep now, my tears
add to the puddle that once was you
and though I tried I simply could not
distract you long enough
from melting.

You
who once gave me the shirt off your back
You
who reminded me I do have a purpose in this chilling life
You
who gave me the infectious gift of endless laughter
You
who softened my heart despite my insisting it be forever hardened
You
who continues to light the candle of inspiration
You
who showered me with ceaseless honesty even when your fears of
hurting me were high and the temptation to lie was loud
You
who I will always remember as being the girl
I gave my heart to that one nineteenth september for
hearts cannot be stolen
The girl
Who showed me why love can never be lost,
Even when we lose ourselves in the afflictions of the other
We are not our afflictions.

Though I am no longer with you
for reasons as obvious as the blue of my eyes you always deemed to be true,
pieces of my heart forever remain
invisibly tattooed on your skin
the places you let me touch even when
your will to live was growing
thin.

Hardened beauty queen of exquisite genius,
do not believe what your mind tells you
the mirror will only show you
an undeserved distorted truth
that is not you, it never will be
and it never was.

I weep here now at the puddle where you lie,
I hope one day your heart will soften with
the same lightheartedness your name implies.

one good thing will happen
to counteract the bad,
bringing me back down to earth,
dissolving each dream that i’ve had.
expect the worst, always hope for the best
set yourself up for a long way down
to fall until you can finally rest.
i can’t have everything, everyone knows nobody can
i feel like an ostrich
hiding his heavy head in the sand.
maybe disappointment and happiness
are in fact, closely linked.
maybe what i need is beyond what i want
or feel or say or think.

The last time I kissed you

I could taste

The burn I left on your tongue

From the time I kissed you

Before that

It was small and pink and blistered

It was the kind of burn that never goes away.

I gasped and said

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

You stopped me midsentence and said,

“It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt. I rub off of some people

The way a match rubs off of a rough surface.”

We swam around our fishbowl of silence for a while

Until you mentioned the time and how

You had to go back

To work.

We parted ways,

Me in my secret pride,

You in your unpublished pain.

I quit a lot of things that day.

I haven’t seen you since.

this time last year
i was a very different person
i was living on the north side of town
i was working a job i was good at, but didn't
necessarily enjoy
i was dating someone who said he loved me but was secretly
using me as a distraction and i naively
believed his lies because i was so wrapped up
in my own to notice let alone, care
i thought he was a man but he was just a little boy,
i was miserable
i was a vagabond, i didn't know where i was going to sleep next
i was just trying very hard
to cultivate the feeling of home by making sure i was constantly surrounded
with a rotating carousel of people and it was impossible, trying to please them all,
always being in a million places at once, both
mentally and physically.
i was working for my mother's ex-best friend who controlled and manipulated me
but i was searching for a new mother and she was the closest thing
i could find so i stuck around for a while
just to see if she could love me like a daughter but,
she couldn't, and she never did i was nothing
but an outlet for her anger and a convenient babysitter
for her 10 year old daughter and i felt bad because
i didn't sign up to be a role model all i was signing up for was
love and i was devastated to find that there really
was none there to begin with.
this time last year
my 88-year old grandfather was dying and all i felt
was jealousy
because i wanted to die so very badly but he died first
and i resented that but i kept quiet about it
because only horrible people
would think something like that but back then
i truly believed i was
a horrible person and i actually really did
just want to die so i could find some peace and quiet, at last.
this time last year i hadn't yet met the one person
who would change my life forever, i had no idea
my life and thoughts and emotions were about to be turned
upside down by this angel of a girl who offered me
an abundance of love and hope and complete understanding
and essentially, saved my life.
a year ago today i had no idea it was even possible to look
straight into someone's eyes and see nothing but your own soul
reflected right back at you.
this time last year
i was a broken excuse of a human being,
i was a thoughtlessly tossed piece of blank paper that landed
on the ground trying very hard
to inch its way closer to the trash can if only to be close
to some kind of feeling of belonging
somewhere even if that place was
nowhere special at all.
this time last year
i was a very different person and although i cannot say
i am right where i've always envisioned myself to be
right now,
i am thankful.
for love,
for hope,
for simplicity,
for family,
for friendship, -
the list
goes on.

i’ve listened to the new St. Vincent album about ten times today
and i just have to say
that those songs i sing that i wish i wrote
are extensions of myself because
they make me feel something and
if i couldn’t sing i probably wouldn’t play an instrument
simply because i use instruments
as an excuse to sing words i need to say
and when i sing them i mean them,
not when i say them,
when i sing them.
i’ve listened to the new St. Vincent album about eleven times today
and i just have to say
i love you, i mean it
i mean it, i sing it.

think that you got so used to people

leaving you when they should have stayed

that you became one of them without even realizing it

and as i watched you walk away from me and into

that house, i knew

you had no idea the damage you have caused yourself

or the other people who love you so much more than words

could ever articulate

and i didn’t know whether to feel sorry for you

or to be like you,

simply detached.

Not having anyone to fix or save or be distracted by is turning me into one vulnerable and terrified human being.

2. I’m surrounded by love everyday and it makes me realize that having romantic love with someone is not the be-all and end-all of life.

3. Sleeping alone does not make me a failure.

4. There is a huge difference between being alone and being lonely.

5. A solid friend and a hearty laugh is better than any one night stand or three month fling.

6. I am still terrified of being abandoned and do not want to add on to the list of potential abandoners at the moment.

7. What even is love?

8. I tend to attract addicts, of all kinds, and by staying away from them I sometimes wonder if I will ever meet someone who will want to love me for who I am and not the false sense of security and comfort I can so easily bring them.

9. I tend to be attracted to addicts, of all kinds, and by staying away from them I am learning how to make myself feel secure and comforted.

10. Manipulation can be contagious. I don’t want to go there again.

11. Trust is something I look back on fondly but is no longer something I have inside my heart to give to the next person who decides to love me. I’m working on it. I think this one will take a long time still.

12. Finding and keeping a consistent friend is making me want to find and keep myself.

13. I am exhausted.

14. Commitment makes me cringe.

15. Marriage is a lovely thought but would be a pointless reality.

16. I have a lot of healing to do.

17. Finding pleasure in life does not have anything to do with another person’s body.

18. *** is not a joke and should not be treated as such.

19. Neither should your body.

20. Forgiveness is a foreign land I have always dreamed of visiting.

21. It is entirely possible to be young and not reckless.

22. We are not invincible.

23. It’s time to slow down.

24. No amount of coffee, crying, sleep, wine, or romance will cure me of the unrelenting emptiness.

25. Nobody taught me that choosing to be alone is actually wise.

26. I am changing.

I spent four years of my life
Laughing, crying, loving, learning, smiling, singing, breathing
With you
You were my first love,
My best friend,
My soulmate.

Then I fell apart and you left my life
Without saying goodbye,
You got someone else to say goodbye to me for you
At the time, I blamed myself
Because I knew my energy was toxic and destructive and dark and terrible
And everyone knows it's hard to be around someone
like that,
someone who begins to devote their life to dying.

A year went by
We didn't laugh cry love learn smile sing or breathe
Together at all
All we shared was silence.
You changed your name, you moved away, stopped talking to your family,
And declared yourself enlightened.

Yes, I did play the victim for a while.
I used losing you as fuel for my self destruction
I felt worthless, alone, used, manipulated
I felt like a discarded piece of toilet paper to be quite frank.
I looked for you in other lovers, but nothing came close
To the love we had.

A year and three weeks later,
You message me and say
Hi, come over, I just want to love you.

Why?
Why now?
If you didn't want me at my worst then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.
You don't even ******* know me
And I sure as hell don't know you.

For once in my life you are telling me to jump
And I am not saying "how high?"
I'm saying take a hike, pal
I have something you can't touch.

You're too late.

i've been out of love for so long i no longer remember
what romance feels like
i used to yearn for it, and sometimes i still do
but right now, it makes me feel sick.

the cute kitchen boy asked me out for drinks tonight.
he has bright eyes and an innocent face and blonde hair
and probably a pure heart.
at first i said "sure!" but then as soon as i walked away
i went into full fledged panic mode
because he probably wants to go out with the girl
he thinks i am, the girl i portray myself to be:
cute, sweet, giggly, innocent, exciting.
i mastered the art of hiding the ugly parts a long long time ago
and i fool everyone i meet.
it's entertaining, and perhaps a little sad, but
it's the truth and i've begun to find comfort in it.

because the walls that surround my heart
have grown very very high, and i am simply not willing
to give someone the power of tearing them down again.
loneliness is more of a friend than anything, and besides,
everyone leaves.
trust has ran out of my repertoire, let alone vocabulary.

i'm just not in the mood
for the falling and the giggling and the touching and
the rush of endorphins and the disappointment and seeing
their sad reactions when i show the person my ugly insides
i'm just not up for
the leaving and the breaking and the wish-you-were-staying
and the mess and the withdrawal.
i do not want to add onto the list of the things i miss.
i'm getting good at going without
and i don't want to mess that up anytime
soon.

i'm ******* fragile and terrified and probably a coward
i'd rather sit at home and stare at a wall
or read a million books
or cry myself to sleep
than let someone in again.

i was leaning against the wall
waiting to use the washroom
and then i looked up
and you were standing there
and a flood of joy came rushing through
the tiny cracks of my open heart,
for you were the only person i wanted to see
and the last person i thought i would ever see
in that place in that moment at that time
and i couldn’t stop hugging you
because i could see in your eyes
that you loved me, too.
Love is something that cannot be expressed simply by saying the words
"i love you" - it is in actions, often quiet ones,
that guide us toward some kind of intangible light
that we don’t know a name for other than some kind
of God. You have that effect on me, and it is a gift
to simply be in your presence. I can confidently say
that you have changed my life, and can honestly say
that you have also saved it.
I watch you
give and give and give and never run out
of love.
You make me want to grow out of my cocoon
and into
the beautiful butterfly of a woman
that you truly, beautifully, absolutely
are.
You said that i am a special girl
and i like to think that that is because
i have been touched by you.