i have a love affair with my scars,
a collector's cove
   of secret treasures

and late at night,
i stroke them like the memories
   of old lovers

Pen to paper...
or ink to tree?
A poetic
inconsistency.
slow it
            d
            o
            w
            n
take your time
avoid excessive
prose and          ...similar sounding couplets

Be real
Speak truth
deep from your gut
but know when to lie
to still make a buck

Know your audience
But write for yourself
and get used to the currency
Praise = Wealth

Always trust the process
But never
under any circumstance
process the trust
you'll never stop worrying
if each line is enough

AND REMEMBER!
There are thousands of words
so read 'em and know 'em

Now stop reading this
and go write a poem!

I found my old journal.
I didn't write in it a lot,
Only when I could think to do it.
Only when it felt necessary.
So I wrote about a lot of the same things.
Heartbreak mostly.
A 9th grader so terribly in love
Again.

Everything is remarkably depressing
At that age.
Or so my journal would have you believe.

Here are some excerpts I found noteworthy

November 19th, 2014.

"I just hope she finally decides my head is no safe resting place for any kind of love."

December 16th, 2014.

"I feel like death, and all I want is for her to hold my dead body until I feel like breathing again."



Heavy,
I know.


Believe me,
I know.



I'd be dishonest if I didn't mention
That there are a lot more of those.
And I'd be dishonest if I didn't mention
That I'm best friends with that girl now.
I laughed when I read these.
The pain read so real
Yet I don't remember what it feels like
To miss her like that.

Then I found another passage
From a year ago.
A riper wound.

September 23rd, 2016. (The day I found out she didn't love me, and might be dating my older, douchier cousin)

"I cried for the first time in awhile, but it doesn't feel as good as I remember."

And then I realize
I've been watching the same Ferris wheel
Go around
My whole life,
Just with different people
Playing the same role.
And it all feels the same.

If love was for sale
I'd empty my pockets.

I still pick the scab.
I'm still the same kid.

I wanted
someone
that wouldn't
be afraid

of me.

I spent
twenty-one
years
doubting
that person
could ever
exist.

For humans
are far too shallow
and our
complications
are

way too deep

but I honestly believe
we should not have to
be alone.

I believe in independence.
I believe in self-reliance
and I believe in self-respect.

But I also believe that
humans can connect
on a far deeper level
than just what we see.

I believe there is a time
and place
for everything
and that includes
the moments

we fall in love.

You see,
there will be days
that you fill
empty
and lonely
but you have
to be there for yourself.

No one is going to give you
a handout
unless you show them
you are going to
make it count.

No one is going to
rely on someone
that cannot
rely on them self.

Co dependence can be
beautiful
but nevertheless-
it is filled with
even more grief.

You cannot fix somebody else
when you are still
practicing
the craft
of self-love.

Allow your lows
to be reminders
that you
can lose
and smile
knowing
that you can
bounce back,
too.

There is nothing
graceful
in struggling
but there is
something
glorious
in the

overcoming

and believe me-
you will find a way
to live through it all.

And then
some day
somebody,
somewhere
is going to
admire
the way
you refuse
to fall.

And you will wonder
how you ever
let the world
make you feel

so small.

-Andrew Durst.

If you want to know
what is happening
to the world,
don't just watch
the news every night;
watch what happens
to yourself
after watching
the news
every night.

and then I asked you,
"What's your biggest fear?"

you gave me a quivering sigh,
looked at me straight in the eyes
and said,

"It's that eventually, you will see me
the way I see myself."