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When it's midnight I find myself struggling to grasp the idea of change
You know, we throw that word around
as if it's a privilege to and now I'm becoming too scared to say something like you've changed or they've changed because I don't think I know what it means
And it's a debate because when I say it what do I really mean
What does anyone mean?

Change

Who's doing the changing? Have they changed since the wintertime when you were all they thought about, did you change since crying in their car, have the circumstances changed since people have moved on from each other faster than teams are getting kicked out of the World Cup? Has he changed since the last time he stared at you in his veil of shyness into a void of loud silence, have you changed since breaking down in front of yet another one you said you wouldn't for three hours? Because times are changing and even I can't fight with that.

People are moving and life is dynamic and sometimes I wish things wouldn't become memories but they do anyway and sometimes we realize that maybe things were never really different and maybe nothing has changed but your view of everything

Your misshapen view
I don't know it's late
 Jul 2014 Olivia McCann
JT
4:28
 Jul 2014 Olivia McCann
JT
4 years
2 months
28 minutes
and 39 seconds

Its 4:28 am
and I know
that I don't love you
anymore

-j.t.
Everyday you wake up to a new day
But what they don’t realize is that it’s all the same

You look in the mirror and paint on a new face
Anything to hide the pain.

Shifting between bars to hide the scars
Drinking your emotions in bars

Anything to say "I'm okay."
But everything is still grey...
My eyes were bloodshot and you told me I needed more sleep
And that's when I realized that you weren't who I thought you were
Because I always thought of all the people
You would understand
That some nights are not meant for sleeping

And some nights my body doesn't fit me right and I wrestle around trying to get in my own skin again.

And some night my dreams are so vivid I can't tell what's real and what's not the next morning and it scares me.

And some nights the spaces between my ribs grow and the world becomes filled with metaphors and wonder and the air is so sweet I can barely breathe.

And some nights,
the night is all I have and I'm afraid that if I fall asleep it'll be taken from me so I hold on as tight as I can.

Some nights are very very good
Some nights are very very bad
Sleep does not belong to either of those nights
Sleep is not worthy of those precious hours of darkness when my surroundings match my emotions

I thought you would understand.

— The End —