Not that I've calculated, but we are approximately
3447 miles apart from each other, give or take. Okay,
I calculated it a little. Just a little bit. Okay, maybe a lot.
I wanted, and in a way needed, to know how far you are
From my physical presence, or rather how far I am from yours.
As the Plain White T's once sang we have trains and planes and
Cars, but as much as I wish I could I can't walk to you.
I sure could try but 3447 miles  is pretty far and
While we have trains and planes and cars,
The ocean is a pretty unforgiving place for a walk.
So as much as I wish I could I can't walk to you tonight.
Or tomorrow, or next week for that matter, which makes me sad.
I think it's worth noting, though, that given my plans
I will be with you one day I am hopeful of it, in less than 90 days.

Talking of days, it has been a glorious 173 days since we "met".
I say  "met" because we knew of each other before then but
My fear of approaching others held me back far longer than it should've.
No matter, we know each other now and I must say I like you.
If you're less in to days then what about 5 months and 20 days?
That makes it seem like we've known each other less longer
Even though it's the same **** time-frame as 173 days.
Specifically, give or take the minutes and the seconds since I calculated
Or the minutes and the seconds and the hours yet to exist,
We have known each other for 14,947,200 seconds
Or 249,120 minutes
Or 4152 hours
Or 24 weeks rounded down.
At which point did any of that seem incredibly creepy?

I will make this clear, I will make it vividly so.
I want to get away from you.
From you, from them, from the whole sorry affair.
For a reason so simple I cannot possibly make it clearer.
Have the words of a man named Desmond Tutu:

"If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.
If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality."

I believe those words. I stand by them dearly.
While the situation involved neither an elephant nor mouse,
It was a situation in which a stand was there to take.
You chose to take it in silence, in lies.
As the mouse, I could not and cannot appreciate neutrality.

I believe there were no sides to take, simply a stand.
You are able to appreciate the side of both parties, without taking sides.
Rather than speak publicly, as is expected of your position, you
Remained silent. You spoke, possibly in my defence, behind closed doors.
I knew not your opinion, I merely knew the crumbs you threw my way.

The crumbs of friendship you felt would fill in the cracks.
Crumbs are just that, crumbs. They merely distract for a short while.
I was foolish, I took it in my stride, and believed to see the best in you.
I haven't heard from you since. From any of you since. Silence speaks.
You are weak and I am sorry for you. I cannot offer you a fifth chance.

I will forget you one day, though you won't believe it yet.
You won't believe it or you will not wish to. Not you, surely?
I appreciate the time we had but I realise the friendship was empty.
It served its purpose and it has long since diminished. Long since.
I offered countless opportunities, I waited and I waited, but no more.

You will often find me dreaming
Here on my lonesome, lying in bed
In my darkened room and wondering
What will become of me. Whether
The days shall pass by without
Me seeing a smile or the gleaming sun.

For there is nothing but the sun
To make you enjoy life, enjoy dreaming.
Who could go every other day without
The lovely thoughts you think in bed.
I imagine it being unnerving, whether
Or not your dreams are full of wondering.

I have vivid thoughts, often wondering
Why I’m free of nightmares which hide the sun
From many others. My question is whether
My mind omits such terrible dreaming
Immediately as I awake safe in bed.
Why must I be the one to go without?

There is no harm in I going without
Though it does provide me with the wondering
Of how such a thing can be, my bed
Is where I can escape to, escape the sun
And what comes with it. No dreaming
Can be done with such blinding weather

I often think to myself and question whether
Or not I can truly say that I go without
Having a single nightmare. The dreaming
That I do is so bizarre and leaves me wondering
How it would feel to fear the burning sun,
To fear falling asleep, to fear lying in bed.

How would it feel to fear lying in bed?!
Not wishing to allow yourself sleep. Whether
Or not you could fear such a thing when the sun
Is such a beautiful thing, and the moon, without
Them both our world would be left wondering,
Asking this question to themselves ‘Am I dreaming?’

So make your bed now, or go without.
Whether you choose to remain wondering
About the sun, about the moon, you’re dreaming.

I am not the prettiest girl
And I haven’t got the smallest waist
I don’t wear cute dresses or bows in my hair
But for me, that’s okay.

I am not the confident one
And I hang around, head looking down
I won’t sing at karaoke or dance in a club
But for me, that’s okay.

Stop asking me why I won’t look like those girls
You’ve raised me to be who I want to be
If you can’t be happy with your own daughter
How can I be happy with me?

I am not the outgoing girl
And I don’t go on crazy adventures
I can’t make decisions and I don’t take risks
But for me, that’s okay.

I am not the fashionable one
And I wear whatever I want to
I can’t stand shopping and I hate jewellery
But for me, that’s okay.

Stop questioning everything that I choose to do
I’ve grown up now, won’t you listen to me
If you can’t accept that I’m not your little girl
How can I truly be free?

I think I ought to let you know
Hello goodbye means nothing now.
I think I shan’t, I dare not die
For you in my soul forever lie.

I feel afraid, lest my heart be gone
For I not one soldier hold near me close.
I feel as if, as if you will come
Be my saviour, my prince, my only one

Who will be there to comfort me so,
In times of need, when needs do grow.
So let it be known, that known is this
I want you near, to feel your tender kiss.

I know not love but serve me well.
Bear with my ways and I will still
Surrender, if surrender is asked of me.
For I know thou shall not forget me.

You may move on and I allow,
For you deserve to wear a smile.
Be content as I think of thee
While I float above alone and free.

And when time comes for me to go,
Your sorrows will pass, I’ll make sure so.
Only I will’t cry for I believe
That our life was worthwhile, though short and sweet.

Sweet heart forever, I’ll be close to thee
For it was you, your troubles, that set me free .
But feel no guilt for life is such,
The unexpected comes and the unexpected hurts.

I knew you well as you did I
We ran through woods, kissed butterflies.
The photographs will fade one day
But be sure, so sure,
My love shan’t die.

You know something? Forget it.
Yesterday I made a decision, it has slammed down on me hard today that
It was the wrong one.
Do I honestly care what you do? No.
I'm done with pussyfooting around.
You may read this and you are welcome to take the self-centred route,
To think this is all directly for you.
This is not for you, nor about you, nor solely aimed at you.
This is for all of you.
I am not talking about your precious little squad,
Your comfort or your hollow friendships. They were once mine, too, remember?
This is about me.
I am completely aware of how I am feeling right now,
I am confronting how I feel and this is simply the first step.
Unlike you (yes, this is specifically yours), I do not take comfort in the
Sorrow of others. I do not see it as right to take pleasure in someone's hurt.
What did it provide you with? Did you get the recognition you crave for your words?
I realise you have removed it from the public domain, good choice.
I realise this is my opinion but you daren't knock it for what it is.
Would it be foolish of me to call myself a friend now? Yes.
Would it be foolish of me not to say these words, with the hope that you will loathe them? Yes.
If what I think, if what I write, if what you are reading, hurts then feel hurt,
But do not think for a second you should feel hurt and move on.
I only ever wanted to help you but you constantly refuse.
I know you. I know you want to change but you're holding back.
I know you because that was me, and trust me - it gets you nowhere.
You doubt that people like you and at the same time you say things to hurt them.
You choose to say those words. Your apology afterwards means nothing.
Like others, I say that it's fine but it never is. It's never okay to hurt others for your benefit.
When has that ever been the definition of friendship?
Enough. This is beginning to become pointless. It likely always has been.
Do you want to know something? My week has been terrible.
In comparison to the lives of others, it has been average, but I am not them.
I have not quite been myself, again. I have been more stable but still,
I have not quite been myself. Who has cared to ask me how I am?
Not. One. Soul. At least not outside of courtesy.
It is generally a way of opening conversation to ask "How are you?"
I will respond with 'Not so great', 'I've been better' or most recently 'So-so'
And not one single person asks why that is.
Except for one.
Directed to you, once again, for this is important.
You often told me you thought everyone hated you. Do you ever ask yourself why?
Perhaps it's because you openly ignore their wishes, you expose information about them that they entrusted you with.
I dread to think what you have told others about me, there were things I told you in confidence.
It's unfortunate that I cannot trust nor believe you kept your mouth shut.
Not that any of it matters now. I'm done with you and your lack of respect.
I woke up today to find my request had been dealt with, I only wish you would do the same.
I understand, though, that life doesn't always give you what you want and perhaps that's luck.
I asked someone what I can do to help fix myself, they provided me with eleven steps.
I feel like it won't work, but I'm doing it anyway. Yesterday was horrific.
I had a fever, and I had nobody to look after me. I had nobody to talk to and nothing to make me feel any better.
I spent my day under a blanket of three covers and yet I was still shivering.
I thought for a moment 'Is this a migraine?' as the intensity of my headache was so severe.
I could not move, I could not bring myself to move.
I had aching muscles and I did not care for food. I knew I ought to eat something to get my strength up but I could not muster more than a yoghurt. Nothing tasted right.
I was dehydrated and weak. It was almost as if my body was mimicking the sufferings of my mind.
My heart is not broken but it may as well be. Someone threw it in my face, once. Practically laughed at me.
I simply reminded myself that immaturity is not something that I admire. I brushed it off, but it still comes back to me every now and then. I can hear that laughter. How cruel and selfish humans can be.
Besides, this love is the kind of love that does not limit itself to my wants, or my needs, or my desires.

I'm kind of liking the butterflies
Flying around
Like there's all the time in the world.
I'm kind of liking the simplicity,
Just you and me talking about
All the little things that matter,
To you, to us, to them.
I call the butterflies my friends.

Sometimes I just want to exist and have nobody know that I do.
I think they call that solitude.

The struggle comes with the quite often daily
battle against the innate human nature within me
that yearns for social interaction, inclusion, or as I see it invasion.

Invasion of my life, who I am, and what it makes me.

At times I accept the compliments and the positive remarks aimed at me by others
but for the most part I shy away as though it’s all I know to be a pessimist.

It is almost as though I am constantly battling
against my inner self with the vibrant urge to seclude myself from anyone and anything
that is remotely like a positive influence
as though I don’t deserve to be liked or accepted.

I remember when my interest in you
Floated around in me.
Somewhere between my heart and my head
Never quite settling down.

I remember observing conversations wherein
You and another were one.
Something inside of me began to ring softly
Never quite letting go.

I remember my previous self, the one who was too
Scared to even say hello.
Somehow I found my voice and it
Never quite gave out.

I remember the minutes, the hours, the days,
The weeks, those few months.
Someone ought to have warned me that it's
Never quite perfect.

I remember it all, and it's time for me to explain
What it really feels like.
Sometimes you need to say more
This is the story of how I remember it.

We began talking. Initially there were jokes aplenty.
More the 'We're not friends so let's keep our distance' sort of thing
Which I expected, or at least I saw no reason why it would be any different.

Friendly banter, subtle euphemisms, the typical winding up charade
(It was typically me who was wound up, it was so easily done!)
I cannot speak for the other side but I would laugh, and I would smile.

Somehow we got to talking close to almost every day, and I was happy
As I genuinely felt as though I was building a friendship with someone worthwhile.
Not your empty, exchanging of generic phrases, out of necessity friendship.

I could list the things we'd talk about but it only really matters to me.
Besides, I don't think I could possibly fit it all in to a space that anybody
Would dare read. I think it would suffice if I were to say the following:

We talked about all sorts of things. Some things trivial, others anything but.
I would eventually open up, discuss hopes, wishes, dreams, fears, troubles.
I never once felt judged or inadequate. We simply became close.

All the while I still found myself yearning for something more, though I was
Never certain what the reason for this was, nor did I understand it well enough
To realise that it had been in-front of me for what may as well have been forever.

I would sit by the sidelines and watch as they were with another, though
It was odd. I wasn't raging with jealousy inside as you would expect. Instead
I was glad. Someone I cared for deeply seemed to have someone.

I would never pry, as I never do with anyone that I have been friends with.
It saddened me a little to hear of what happened, though again I was glad.
I felt a little cruel but I think I was glad as I felt they deserved better.

Now for the moment when I must insert some rambling, rather than some
Meaningful line of words. This signifies the confusion, the fun, the secrecy,
The excitement, the anticipation, the release, the feeling of letting go.

I value those close to me higher now than I have ever done, especially him.
I feel it may seem I give the wrong impression, I believe we are close friends.
It's difficult, I admit, to keep myself from exposing what I feel lies underneath.

I know something, though, and that is what keeps me here. It is quite peculiar.
If you were to ask me what I would want in regards to them my answer would simply be:
I hope that they find happiness and receive the love and the life they both wish for and deserve.

Is that what friendship is about, is that what it means to love someone dearly?
I know the score, yet I feel the same way regardless. It changes little.
To know them is a pleasure and I simply wish for it continue for as long as I live.

That is all.

It's all I can do to keep myself contained
How much louder will it get? I can't
Bare it, I can't. I need someone, I can't ask.
Help me, just listen. Let me speak, let me talk,
Let me explain. I'm obsessing, I'm weak. I'm a
Fool. I need to sleep, but my mind? It won't allow it.
It's taunting me, I can't bare it, I can't stand it.
Friends? Where are you, I need you. Please, anyone.
I don't know how to do this alone, I don't even know
How to explain it, I just know I need you. I can't
Reach you, any of you. You're all there. You're always
There, where I can't find you as much as I need to.
I'm getting so angry with you, all of you and I hate it.
Nobody lets me explain anything. I'm branded, a
Freak, a stranger, a girl without a heart but I do have a heart.
If I don't, then what is aching?
Physically it hurts. I think, and it hurts. It aches. It feels so lonely.
It's not the place, it's the people. Not even the people - these select few.
Why am I so selective? Why did I choose people who are busy?
I need someone and I don't know who.
I can't sleep, when I do I never want to wake up. I'm struggling and I
Can't convey this to anyone. Why does everyone keep telling me to
FORGET ABOUT IT. Let it go. Don't worry. Chill. Cheer up.
You don't get it, it's not about you. You feel better saying those things
but I don't. I feel empty, being pawned empty advice that does nothing.
There I go again, getting annoyed because you don't get it.
I've been saying thank you and I feel a little lighter, temporarily.
I wake up feeling the lowest I possibly could.
I work feeling the most inadequate I have ever felt.
I return back here to a cold and empty house. It's brilliant. I love it.
Nevermind, it doesn't matter. It will go away eventually.
I will just have to say what I need to say to myself and hope for the best.
I hate this.

I saw someone once question why it is rare to find a name in a poem.
More than that, in fact; they had the audacity to question a poet.
They asked them the simple question, "Why do you exclude names,
When you quite obviously write about, or for, someone?"

They responded gracefully, I must say, for someone so feisty.
Their reasons were commendable, understandable, and concise.
When we write about, or for, someone we respect their right
To anonymity. Where is the rule that we must always include a name?

I think if I were to be written about in the public domain, not that I ever will be,
Mind you. I think it would be nice. Of course I would appreciate the gesture.
I would of course appreciate it too if the poet took the brave step of delivering it to me first.
I think most of all that would overshadow any invasion of privacy.

This is neither a poem, a story nor a piece meant to share. At least I am sure it is not, so I write it here.
I have the strongest vision of possibility in my mind and I am bursting to share what may or may not be.
Him. I see him. Whether we are deep in conversation or far from it; whether I am outside in the cold or inside in the warmth.
I see him, always. I think of him, always. I have led myself into a state of dreaming and placed him firmly in the story.
I envision the future. What could be but will likely never be. The strangest thing is that it doesn't even hurt.
I am wondering what this is. Most people would call it being in love, yet I don't believe I have fallen at all.
Let alone fallen in love. This is what it is; we are both bouncing off of each other without worry. It feels good. The simplest of descriptions: good.
Are we playing with fire? Perhaps. May that fire erupt and scar us? I certainly hope now. I won't let it and - if that is what is destined,
I will stand in the firing line to protect you. I will let you walk free.

This year my life will change and I sincerely look forward to you becoming a bigger part of it.
The mere idea of going out to dinner with you has me on the cusp of complete and utter delight.
I wish to fly farther than I ever have before, despite the fear that has held me back all of these years. It seems worth it.
Not for you alone, but while that may seem a terrible reason to leave here - accept you are, hopefully, a part of the excitement.
I cannot wait to feel the ground beneath my feet thousands of miles from home. I cannot wait to meet new friends, new acquaintances and new possibilities.
While dinner may be as friends, I fully understand that. A friendship with you is worth the anticipation of 'What if?'
Some may tell me I am foolish, thought I have never disclosed any of this to anyone. If anybody were to ask I would remain silent or at least fight off the silly little remarks that can be expected of the general population.

This is not to say they are wrong to say what they do: to joke, to tease, to taunt the way they do.
I think I am fine with that. After all, what does it even matter? Are they going to play a large part in my future? It's unlikely.
I feel a little blue to think that way however that is what it is. They are my present but I feel I may leave them soon. They may abandon me first.
Besides, they are important enough to me to include them in my thoughts. They have helped my get to this point. I have great thanks for that.
I am not yet who I feel I ought to be but I have begun the journey and I am ever so excited to continue. I can't believe my luck sometimes.
Had it not been for these people, those select few, I would have likely never opened up to you. I would likely have remained fairly anonymous and continued to long for the close connection that I believe we have created. It is a creation I adore.

This is a collection of my thoughts and I felt a little tense about digging deeper. I mentioned I have thought of the future.
Did I mention I played you in my dream once? Purposefully. I let you take me to your favourite place, the one memory that you treasure.
It excites me to think that I may visit there this year, with you as my guide. I would like that very much. If only to realise that dreams are just that - dreams.
Perhaps I will indulge with you that exact dream one day. Though it would need to be after we journey there. I wouldn't wish to place thoughts in your head.
I fear it would alter any possibility of those things happening. You started it. With that remark about throwing me over the rails - remember?
I told you it would be a struggle. I told you you'd need a forklift truck.

This is going well. My mind is unravelling and in doing so I am smiling. I feel like I should be worried, concerned, apprehensive.
Yet I am calm. I am content. I am, for whatever reason, completely looking forward to the year ahead. I have a destination, I have friends, I have desires.
I told you I would write a list of lists that need made. I have yet to do this but another thing is taking priority. Just a few more days, perhaps a week.
The lines are getting fewer and yet I could happily lay here for a good hours. I think I may have to pinch myself over the coming weeks, just so I can believe this is real. I sincerely hope it all goes to plan.

This is bizarre to say the least. Me, of all people, having thoughts like this. It's bizarre for anybody so young to dream so big, isn't it?
I think of all the silly little things I could do there, the places I could do. The people I may meet, WILL meet. There is so much to plan and to think, it's not that far.
Look at me. Full of hopes, dreams, aspirations, thoughts, plans. They're coming before the fear. They're finally coming before the fear. The fear is there but it is hidden.
It is laying low. I am in control and it feels refreshingly cool.

This year my life will change. I'm just saying that again to try and let it sink in. My life will change. For the better, not for the worse this time.
I am going to improve my life, my body, my mind and in turn my future. No longer will I be living in the past. Honestly? I am incredibly excited. The word terrified isn't even coming in to the equation at this point.

This is where my time comes to an end. This didn't pan out the way I thought it would in my head but that's fine. In this moment I feel I can do anything.
I can feel, and I know I will succeed. Here's to 2013.

This is me we're talking about, me of all people.
Who am I to think, to fantasise, to dream, to hope?
It just doesn't make any sense. It just won't be.
I cut myself off from anyone I can before it happens.
I just want to be free, to be oblivious again to the point
That it stops hurting me. I just want to get out of it.
I don't want to hold a candle for you or for anyone.
This is why I lied to myself, lied to anyone who listened
Because I knew what happens to those who give in.
I gave in four years ago and I thought that was good.
I thought giving in would heal me but it made matters
Worse. It unravelled all these yearnings and wants.
Please just take me back to the young girl I was.
The adamant young girl who never spoke of love
Or desire, or a future. I haven't long left, or so I hoped.
I used to hope that I wouldn't live long to save myself.
I didn't want to admit I don't like it here, I didn't want
To admit to those that matter that I was a liar.
Sometimes, these days, I just don't want to be awake.
I want to close my eyes and escape to the deepest realm
Where reality doesn't get a look in, where my hopes die.
If being a liar is what it takes for me to become cold again,
So be it. Let me lie, let me hurt myself and keep my distance.

My unravelling mind is one of a kind, is
                                         Beating yet blind, is
                                         Quite unrefined.
My unravelling mind is not what you'd find, is
                                         Fair yet unkind, is
                                         Bruised and maligned.
My unravelling mind is stuck on rewind, is
                                         Breaking inside, is
                                         Best left behind.

Once upon a time lived a little young girl,
She had bright button eyes and her hair had a curl
Of saffron, ginger and pineapple too
She looked like no other, not I and not you.

She lived in a village not far from the sea
Where nobody ventured, not even the bees
For it was far from pleasant, you must comprehend
It is rumoured that death lingers under the bed.

Gnarly and spiteful, the creature below
Listens out for those sleeping, those about to go
To the land of the dreaming, the peaceful sweet place
That brings all pure happiness upon yonder face.

Now little young girl creeps around in the dark
As she fears the creatures will bite her and bark
That’s how they get you, as you will soon know
If you rest your sweet head on the pillow below.

I spent some time today writing up some old memories.
They were all negative of course.
Most of them are memories I hold from when I was of primary school (aged 5-11)
Though some of them were from when I was a little older in secondary school (aged 12-17)
None of this matters of course, I'm not even sure this is a poem - it's not. Is it?
Over 5000 words and 20000 characters; that was the result of the memories I wrote.
It seems so little for moments that meant so much at the time, those moments that changed me.
I'm trying to find out who I am and what made me this way.
I had to stop after over 5000 words because it was tiring, so I slept.
I woke up, and I ordered pizza which I now regret. I guess that was a lesson.
I was sick this weekend and I took today off to myself, just to rest some more.
It was much needed. I think today was productive, if only for the memories I wrote down.
I'm going to finish up all of the junk food that I have.
I'm going to eat the last two double chocolate chip muffins, I'll eat the crisps and the last of the ice-cream.
Maybe not the ice-cream, as that's about a litre which I think is a bit of an overkill.
Besides, I might buy some jelly to go with it because that always makes things better.
I will write a list, and I will try my best to find small ways of doing things that will help.
Sudden change always seems to startle me so I think gradual is best.
This is a lot harder than I thought it was going to be.

"Be good" they say, without realising they're setting us up for a
Fall. What do they mean by good? What is good?
When we're little, we are told to be good and behave. It's simple.
When we're a little older, we're left torn in English class.

It is drummed into us that words like good, like nice, like okay are
Dull. Why would you say something is good when you can say marvellous?
We'd refrain from using the word nice simply because it was uninteresting.
We'd refrain from even thinking of using okay to describe a feeling.

If these words are not to be used, then surely they wouldn't exist at
All. Whose decision was it to deem them unfavourable in stories or poetry?
What if the only word that is appropriate is 'good'? Short, simple and precise.
What if the only way I can finish a story is with a word I shouldn't use?

I always wondered what was so wrong. Of course variety appeals, it is
Bright. I was told not to use the word 'good' yet my work was marked as such.
How should that be taken? I daren't tell the teacher the marking is wrong.
How about we use these words regardless and forget the fear of being average.

As much as I wish to utter words,
They are gone from my mind, replaced by an
Incredibly intense sigh of wonder.
The sort of sigh you may think is unjust.

I can stare at the walls, at these sheets but
Nothing is complete.
You see, there it is. The first rhyme and the last.
The unnecessary rambling of my mind.

I wish to tell you, yet I wish to show you
I want what I fear is the impossible.
The implausible and the unimaginable.
Is that what crazy is, for me or for us?

Yes, you. Only you.
This may not be brilliant but it is inspired.
Inspired by you and you alone, you
Impossible man.

You exist, and you are real. Vividly real.
Forgive my lack of complex language.
I resort to simplicity when I feel so alive,
My descriptions compare not to the real thing.

Perhaps I am not all that bright, is that
Another unfair comparison?
I am not like the others, I am myself.
Is this too much? Too little?

I know myself, this sounds too good to be true.
I will read this back, make alterations and
Maybe it can’t be improved, but what could I change?
Perfection is at it’s best when raw.

Why are humans such liars?
I feel such an intense desire to warn you all.
I care even though I'm no longer there. I don't particularly miss you.
I want to protect you, I want you to be somewhere good.
Why am I so sensitive?
I know in my heart, in my mind, that I am neither without a conscience nor the ability to comprehend.
I know in myself that these words are out of spite and out of complete lack of empathy.
I want to scream out, I want you all to be free from this.

As I said goodbye
I felt the tears about to fall.
So I scuttled away into the hole,
But as soon as I had left
I fell into that trap.
The old one, where you feel nothing but fear.

I had to get out and just stand for a while
But it took me all the strength that I had.
So I shut my eyes loosely
And I thought about things.
Anything that could take me away,
Just something to take me away.

Someone tell me there's a place
Where people go to and feel better.
I wish to go there as soon as I can.
I'm just tired of this life, I'm not living.
Days just fall into each other and
I just want to be alone.

I'm walking swiftly
As if to say I don't wish to talk but
The truth is that I want nothing more.
I'm so scared of opening up, though,
Because I should be happy, you know,
But there's just nothing to be happy about.

All of these thoughts they just fade into each other
But I know one feeling is standing out strong.
So I shut my eyes loosely
And I think about things.
Anything that can take me away,
Just something to take me away.

I do not hate you, this is no lie.
I do not despise you, though you may I.
I do not like you, this is a truth.
I rarely think of you at all. Truth.

I used to hate you, this is quite true.
I used to despise you, and you I too.
I used to dislike you, this is a truth.
I rarely think of you at all. Truth.

The thought of simple things with you is enough to drive me crazy.
It's a kind of crazy that I crave, even though I know it's likely wrong for me.
I know that I'm a dreamer, and this is all a silly girls silly dream
But I know I'm not the only one, and thus far no harm has come.

The thought of the first meeting, of how it could all go.
The mere thought of that glance, of that first sign, that first spark.
I know all too well that I am far from perfect and I am far from desirable
But I know I'm not the only one, and I know that could change.

The thought of the first invite over, if there would ever be such a thing.
I have closed my eyes and imagined, and thought, and gone through the script.
Of course I know life is not a play, not a movie, not a television series
But I know I'm not the only one, and I can accept what may not be.

The thought of the first... if I dare say it, kiss, if that would ever arise
My heart smiles and gets carried away with the mere thought.
I would give anything for these silly little dreams to become my reality
But I know I'm not the only one who has a say in any of this.

I couldn’t find anything remotely close to what I wish i could, or need, or want to say so this is me.
Writing it for myself because it’s the only way I can think of.
I’m not even sure if it is right for me to say any of this but I’m going to
Knowing that at least I can remove this someday. If this counts as failing then that’s fine.
I failed yesterday too.
I had a fever and I spent all afternoon in bed, I almost collapsed going to the store to get painkillers and ice-cream and I couldn’t even muster the energy to watch a movie.
I went for ‘The Perks of being a Wallflower’ because the last and first time I watched it it made me feel calm and content.
It’s still sitting there now waiting on me watching the remaining one hour and 11 minutes.
Maybe it’s the wrong movie and that’s why I couldn’t watch, or maybe it was just I was too weak.
This is something I’d normally write on my blog, but nobody ever notices me there.
I haven’t even said what I want to say yet. I love you.
I feel like that should bother me but it doesn’t.
If anything it’s a weight of my mind and I’m sorry if it burdens you.
I’ve told you I care and I’ve told you how glad I am for you, and I hope you get the outcome you wish for and deserve, and it is genuine. All of it.
I’m wondering how that can possibly be. I think that confuses me most.
You said something along the lines of that presumably because I’m a decent human being.
If I was decent wouldn’t I keep how strongly I feel to myself?
Wouldn’t that be the decent thing to do?
Is it decent to even feel hurt that you’re in love with someone, or to find myself considering the ‘what ifs’ or the fact it tore me up, and continues to tear, to know I’m undesirable even though i know it’s the truth?
On the other side, I accept all of those things and I’m okay with it. Why am I okay?
The idea of losing your friendship means more than any of that and I’ve never had that.
I don’t regret anything that I’ve ever done, or ever told you and that is something I can’t quite understand either. I always regret something.
I know time has a habit of changing things and we may cease being friends at some point, but my biggest hope is that that never happens.

I dream of rainy days and
The midnight faeries behind my
Eyes, they sparkle the bluest grey.

I dream of butterflies and
Their perfect wings hiding behind my
Eyes, they beautifully float away.

I dream of galaxies and
The way they spin behind my
Eyes, they never seem to fade.

I dream of the brightest lies and
The sincere way that they hide my
Eyes, they never give me away.

The idea of my head imploding seems implausible,
Yet as it currently stands, it also seems imminent.
I cannot close my eyes, nor shut down my mind
As much as I wish to I have not the time.

The idea of achieving goals today seems laughable,
Yet as it currently stands, it also seems pitiful.
I cannot grasp ideas, nor gain hold of my thoughts
As much as I wish to I simply cannot.

"I have nothing to say to anyone."
Forgive me, but I think my heart sunk a little lower.
I already miss you and I hate that sometimes.
At times I think, and I smile.
At times I think, and I become engulfed in sadness.

While that may not evoke within anyone the strongest sense of sorrow
No word could possibly come close. Simplicity seems my only option.
I am not surprised, I am not taken aback.
I am simply sad.

I read quotes and they conflict with one another.
While I'm assured if I wait that it will all be worth it
I am also assured that we should not wait for anyone.
If it were meant to be, he would make it so.
If it were meant to be, you would find a way.
If it were meant to be.

If is an awfully complex word.
Shortly to follow are the 'What ifs?'
What if it isn't the right time? The right one?
What if it the wait isn't worth it? Comes to nothing?
What if, what if?

Ending my life with a never-ending series of 'What ifs?' would surely be a waste.
Ending my life with a series of 'I did's' and 'It was worth the risk' seems more worthwhile.
Don't you think we all ought to endeavour to live without excessive 'What ifs?'
Don't you think that would be better?

I'm not worried that I like you.
I'm worried that I'll like you too much.
I'm not worried at all I tell myself.
I worried just a little bit and that's fine.
That's normal, right?
I don't like that this scares me.
I'm overthinking it, aren't I?
Just be yourself, just be yourself.
Open up, it's okay. You don't have to lie any more.
Not to them, or to anyone really. Especially not to them.
They're okay, you know. They're not out to hurt you.
At least that's what you believe, genuinely and truly.
You like them, just admit it. Be okay with it. It's okay.
They know. You're safe.
Don't hold back now, not ever. Just calm. Breathe.
Think of your friend, she's doing well.
You're happy for her. Be happy for yourself, too.
You're allowed to be happy, you deserve it.
I'm struggling, you know. Just a little bit.
This is all quite new. Not completely, but it's new.
What am I even doing? I keep surprising myself and I don't mind.
I quite like it, I feel different, I feel empowered.
In a good way, too. Almost as if this is working.
Being honest is working and it's getting less and less terrifying.
Be yourself, or as much as you can be.
There are things you are still changing, things you haven't changed it.
That's okay, you don't have to change dramatically.
You would freak out if you did. Let yourself evolve.
Let the caterpillars of your mind grow. Feed them all you possibly can.
They'll grow strong, I promise. Just like you will, in time. Give it time.
Why are you expecting a sudden change? You know life doesn't work like that.
What are you comparing yourself to? Nobody. Exactly. Stop it.
This isn't making any sense to me any more, I should stop.

People take goodbyes for granted.
If I could only just have one, just one goodbye.
They say goodbyes aren't needed.
That to say goodbye is to let them go, let them leave.
The important ones never leave you, with or
Without a goodbye.

People say goodbyes are painful.
If I could only feel that once, just this one time.
They don't know it hurts me so.
That to have no goodbye is not comfort, is not grief.
It lingers and it never leaves me, with or
Without a goodbye.

It’s 15:08 and I don’t want to go to work.
I don’t want to stand behind a counter that separates me from them,
Passing a false smile and I pretend to like it there.
Asking the same questions, customer after customer:
Would you like a bag? When it’s obvious.
Is that everything? When it is.
Would you like any cashback? When they don’t.

It’s not so much the job, or the people, it’s what they remind me of.
They remind me of what I have and what I don’t.

I have a job, but I don’t have a career; my career is lost somewhere.
I have more acquaintances than friends and that is lonely.

I have a friend, but I don’t have a best friend.
There is not a single soul that I confide in with every single last ounce of thought, no matter how much I want that.
No matter how generous a person is, I cannot tell them everything.

And I do. I want to tell them everything. I want them to know me and let me know that I am not all that strange; I am not wrong.

What does it feel like to feel right?
I’d like to know what that feels like most of all.

So as I place products on shelves for the consumers to consume, as I serve them with a smile and show them where the coffee is, as I watch the hours pass just wishing to be asleep again I always wonder:

What does it feel like to be loved?

My eyes are hurting and my head isn't clear
Is it so wrong of me to say that I wish you were here
With me. We could sit up all night if you'd like that
We could sit up all night if you'd like too.

My hands are trembling and my lips growing numb
Contemplating how it'd feel to feel your fingers and thumb
With mine. We could hold hands all night if you'd like that
We could hold hands all night if you'd like too.

It's not that I'm not into you
I really am, I really do
Like you a lot, I like your smile,
I have admired it for a while.

You make me laugh, you say cute things
And know I don't like wearing rings.
I don't get judged and that feels nice.
It's rather strange I don't think twice

On spilling out my inner fears,
My thoughts, my worries and my tears.
You make me cry and I don't mind
I think you're worth it every time.

What makes me mad is other folk
Who interfere and like to joke
Around with hearts, like they won't break,
One lie is sometimes all it takes

To tear us up and dent our pride,
We lash out, hurt, we often hide.
With you I feel they won't succeed
For love is really all we need.

It finally happened, I think.
I fell.

The strangest part of it all is that I don't regret a thing. I doubt I can accurately describe it.
I can point you to all the quotes and sayings that I know of but none of them sit quite right.
Does that mean I ought to find my own? Who dictates that everything needs words behind it?
Why do we need to transform our feelings, our thoughts, our hearts in to words?
I'm not sure, but I suppose this is me doing just that. Right now.

So let me tell you. Let me tell you, in the best way that I can, what the situation is.
I fell.

I didn't just fall today. I think I fell the day before and on a few other occasions.
That's alright though. I don't feel sad about it, and I definitely don't feel too blue.
It's new. I hear both sides of the conversation. I know what is right and what isn't.
I don't let it get to me much. I know that if I let it consume me and focused on the negative
That I wouldn't, I just couldn't, be able to go about my days, that's all.

I'm doing a pretty shabby job of describing it all. I'm known for being vague, but the fact is
I fell.

Uninspired is a poor thing to be, when
You’ve got a smile the world needs to see.
Standing alone with your memory unravel-
ling, wait one second, you’ll find yourself
                                                                     Travelling.

A lesson that we all should learn
Is to be loved and in return
Accept those who love our flaws, our mind
For they are worthy, and they are kind.

You see, for you shall be alone
If you cannot love nor feel at home,
With someone there to listen, and mend
Your aching thoughts, dearest frightened friend.

So do not fret if you do not find
A lasting friend for all of time.
For to the world you must return
Your love for all, your lessons learnt.

I'm going to have to start working at home.
Well, I say home but it’s not home as I know it.
It’s where I reside, temporarily. It’s where I
Sit in my room, alone, while others live.
I don’t mind it in the slightest, it’s quite refreshing.
Where was I? Right, I remember: working at home.
I'm finding myself being followed by an old fiend.
I'm not sure what it’s related to. My blood pressure?
I know it’s low in general, which is never a problem.
I just find myself in states where I cannot work.
I sit here, pretending to type – in fact I just type
Nonsense. I don’t want to admit that I'm not working.
Who would?
I don’t want to explain because I'm not sure myself.
It’s not permanent. It just comes as it pleases.
Blurred vision, I suppose that’s what it is.
It keeps me from working for a good twenty minutes
At a time. It adds up to quite a lot in a day, in a week.
I'm going to have to start working at home. Great.

Feeling lonely, feeling blue
Unsure why I'm missing you.
I say hello, I whisper 'Hey'
Not a word, you won't even say
What I've done or what I've said
Why I'm banished from your head.
I feel confused, a tad alone
Unsure why and far from home.

Honestly, I just want to b-break down and cry.
I sit here, oh-all alone, my head down and sigh.
I see it all around m-me, people living happily,
While I, I c-can't seem to function right.

So I put it to you, to you
Of all people, tell me, tell me
Why won't you tell me?

So I put it to you, of all people
Of all people, won't you tell me
Why won't my heart just die?

Sincerely, I wr-wrote you a letter and I cried.
Writing each and every word, oh-oh my I sighed.
If only, if only I had the perfect words to say,
I wouldn't, I wouldn't be shattering my pride.

So I put it to you, to you
Of all people. Tell me, tell me
What would you not do?

So I put it to you, of all people
Of all people, won't you tell me
What can I do just to die?

Finally, I wr-wrap this up and I cannot cry.
I've shed too many tears for that, I shall not sigh.
Instead, oh perhaps I will take a ride somewhere,
Maybe there, I will find my reason not to... die.

As I glance briefly up at the stars
I often wonder why they exist.
I often wonder if they, like people, feel pressured too.
When I’m feeling under pressure, sometimes I disappear.

I wonder why stars disappear.
Some would say it’s merely the clouds getting in the way,
But I don’t know if I believe that.

I like to think the stars get scared too.
It makes me feel less silly for hiding away
When I look up at the sky and see that they’re hiding too.

When they’re up there, shining in force,
It makes my insides shine too.

I think sometimes it’s okay to hide yourself away from the world;
From the glaring of eyes, and the thoughts,
and the questions that govern our minds.

I looked up at the sky two nights ago and the sky was vividly bursting at the seams,
With stars lining up, as though to say ‘Look at me, I’m a star.’

I looked up at the sky tonight, half extinguished, and watched as it wept.

There was no glass in any of the windows.
There was no shelter from the blistering snow.
There was no particular spot in the room that could've,
Or would've, saved them.
There was no safe place to go.

If you’re making a cup of tea, make one for me too?
Then maybe we could sit and talk. I’d like that.

I miss that strong connection.
You know the one, the one wherein you
never leave a conversation, not even once,
not even to make a cup of tea;
You already made a dozen, and you’re keeping them warm
as best you can to avoid even a sip of silence.

A sad little girl, I sit down in my chair
I am rarely acknowledged, like I am not here
When I look around slowly, the world seems so dark
The faces stare blankly through my breaking heart.

And I know that I shouldn’t be so down on myself
But it’s hard when you feel like the dust on the shelf
They all play with each other, while I sit here alone
It’s hard not to cry when I just want to go home.

Now believe me I’ve tried, to forget I’m alive
And I write down my troubles hoping they will pass by
Hoping, wishing that some day that these days will end
But I know that they won’t unless I find a friend.

I’m the lonely one,
And all I ever do is try.
I’m the abandoned,
And all I ever do is sigh.
I’m the one who stands alone, and all I ever do
Is wish, is pray, is hope one day
That I’ll be someone too.

I’m the hollow one,
And I only ever try to please.
I’m the mistaken,
And I only ever try to see.
I’m the one who cries alone, yet all I want to do
Is love, and share, and hope one day
That I’ll be loved back too.