I'm turning this **** around right now.

Valentine's day is about love.
It's not about whether you've got someone to hug and kiss.

It's about making mix CDs.
It's about having someone smile at you in the hallway on your way to class.
It's about calling your grandma.
It's about giving a little extra when you've got enough to live on.


It's about spreading love;

not worrying that you didn't receive enough.



so get off your ***.
go love someone.

You only get this excuse once a year
to do something perfectly wonderful
for another human being.

I'm angry

and I don't really know why.

I think it's because you're angry
and I'm so used to feeling how you feel
good and bad

because we used to hold each other
when I cried that one day
after finding out I didn't get that job
or when I felt like a failure.

you held me
you held me up.

you would kiss me and inject your strength into my mouth through your lips
and I would feel
invincible
because you were there next to me.


but now I'm angry
because you're angry.

and I have been trying to fix everything like you used to fix me
i want to pick you up off the floor
and
hold you in my arms

and kiss your forehead
and tell you it's okay.

even if it's a lie
and even if kissing you would be the worst thing i could do.

i want to inject that strength back into you
because now,

i think you could use it more than i could.

What do you want me to do?

**** all your ******* memories
   burn all these ******* poems


I'm walking on eggshells
       over here
terrified that one miss-step
will send us both
over the edge of that
            cliff

So what do you want me to tell you?

That I abused you
        that I ****** you
that I ruined you

You want me to lie to you
baby, I will.

And I'll tell you that
everything meant nothing

and that I
     just love playing sick
                                games.

I'm sure it's easier to
       believe that

                         than the truth


because the truth is

                                                        I loved you

                                                    to the best of my
          
                                                             ability.



it just wasn't enough

                             for either of us

let's just call this a suicide note

                  because that's
           what it should be.

If I was still who I
           was
                          a month ago

then there would be
     slits up this wrist
and an empty bottle in
       this fist

But instead I can
appreciate
                    that I don't
have more scars.

You can't just pluck
the pieces of me
                       out of
                                   your life
like a game of operation

You can't just **** the poison out
because i am not a snake
and I didn't bite you.

Maybe this is like chemo.
             It's painful
                                and difficult

but it makes things better

and eventually your
                         hair grows back

and you'll be (more or less)

just how you were

                         before

I can't read them anymore.

I can' t read my own poems
                     because they

make me

                 want to hurt myself

I know that you've read them.

And they've caused you pain.
       So lately,
                          I've gone
back
               to where I was

To who I was

a panicky guilty person

with a soul that aches to
         bleed
                       because I never learned
how to just fix things.


I only ever knew

how to **** myself
         over to even the
score.

At this point
                I feel as though

I've ****** up your whole life.

        I've taken all the pleasure
out of every moment.

      I want to run blades

      across my wrists.

            The feeling is so strong

I want to do it, for once
not to make myself feel

        but to make you
better.

                     why
why                                 why


why    why why do i want

to hurt myself.


Why am I so ****** up.


why.


                    why do i always hurt
                               everyone around me


               why     why    why

                              does my heart scream

When you achieve perfection
                      in your own
sense of self

           you will never again
   need      to
                         seek it out


in other people.