Good night sunshine,
I always hope to see you
in the mornings.

This is the most depressing
time of my young life.

Every day I wake up,
it's a struggle to survive,
to get high,
to smile honestly.

But it's perfect writing material.

The misery of working a full time job,
trying to succeed in College,
while maintaining friendships, and relationships.

Impossible, by the way.

They don't tell you this when you're young,
in fear that you'll actually go ahead
and take that final solution,
but it doesn't always get better..

in fact, sometimes it gets worse.

But this time
there's no finish line and a flag
that says, "You're done!"

Because this is the real world,
and in the real world you don't get
a ribbon just for showing up.

I read something somewhere
that said; God takes unnecessary
people out of your life,
so as not to hinder your path.
But I don't think he was the one
that made us the way we are today.
In fact, if anything he gave me so
many chances.
I made mistakes, and so did he.
But God was definitely not involved.

He wouldn't have been able
to keep up with us.

I feel a bit empty,
because today should be
the day I go back to
school.
Instead I'm sitting
in the parking lot at work,
because I lost my
financial aid.
To be honest,
I don't know what to do
next.
I'm kind of waiting
on the universe to give
me a sign.

It's the moments
when we are
holding hands
in the store,
as I help him
pick stuff out.
When we're dancing
in the car to the radio,
and kissing at every
stop sign.
When we're making love,
and when he gets me high.
That's when I'm happy.
I love this boy who works
with me at Burger King.
In so many ways we are
very different,
and he makes me crazy.
But when he says,
I love you baby
I melt once again
and everything is okay.
We are okay.

Lately I've been
writing poems
and then forgetting
about them as soon as
I hit the send button.
Usually the words
hang around inside my head
and I obsessive over it,
reading the poem to myself
multiple times
without actually looking at it,
as though I have to remember
or it was never there.

But my writing recently
has felt dry,
and sporadic.

I can't stop pulling
out my hair.

I think he was trying
to ask me how I missed him.
Like, as a friend or something else.
I asked what he meant,
and he steered away from the question.
I was glad he did,
because I wasn't sure how
to answer.
I might have to say both.

I wonder how he misses me.

I think it's sort of weird
how I've created this
character of him in my
mind.
Where he is everything I
want him to be,
and the truth.
I was thinking that maybe
I'm becoming this weird,
stalker type person,
but now I realize that he
is that place in my mind
that I can go
when I need to find happiness
or solitude.

It's nice to go there.

It isn't okay to leave me where
you left me.
Act like I didn't care.
To disappear without a word,
leave me in the dark,
and stranded in a town full of people that always leaves me feeling lonely.
That was the last time I will ever get my heart broken by you again.
The last time I let you impact me.
Shake me. Change me.
If you don't want to talk,
then let's never talk again.
I want these to be the last words I ever write about your miserable existence.
You weren't the same anyways.
I didn't change. You did.
It's easy to hate you,
so that's what I'll do.
Because loving you is a waste of a dreamer's time.

As writers, we know
that it usually takes
a storm in order
to create a rainbow.
After the smoke clears
and you're laying there
with the blood from
your heart on
the sheets...
that's when you
start to write.
When you're looking
for someone at
the bottom of a
bottle,
or smoking your
second joint,
you write.
When you feel like
quitting that minimum
wage job
because you haven't slept
a full 8 hours since
last Halloween,
you write.
Because it's how we
breathe, cope, not end up
in the back of a cop car.
We hope that somehow the
words we spill onto
a piece of paper will
actually fix the problem
this time.

Honestly I feel like
my life is falling apart.
Everything good I had
is gone.
I'm right back to where
I was a year ago
except this time I have
no Tv to fill my nights.
I'm gonna have to get used
to spending a lot of time
alone.
I'll just always be high
and continue this
shopping addiction
in hopes that new clothes
will make me feel important.

And do whatever I can
to enjoy constant solitude.

I am the person
who says that
New Years resolutions are
*******,
but I think that on this
lonely, sick night
I need to hope for a better future.
Maybe it's okay that I'm
ending the year still recovering
from the flu,
smoking 2014's last bowl,
and not feeling like my life
is where I want it to be.
They say once you hit the bottom,
that there is no where to go
but
u
      p.
So,
my New Years resolution
is to allow myself to be happy,
and not allow anyone else to
prevent it, or hold me back.
To make myself proud,
and to take more time to
take care of my
mind,
body,
and
soul.

Yesterday I
took him to
the hospital.
When I showed up
at his house he
was shaking,
and I could tell
he was in pain.
We got lost on the
way there but it
turned into a
fun road trip.
I laid my head on
his shoulder in the
waiting room,
and we played
I spy,
as we waited for
the doctor.
They said that it
was nothing serious,
so we ran to the car
when we were released,
and pulled into
the Taco Bell next door.
When we got back to his
house we got
high with the clouds,
and landed in his bed.
We had a perfect day,
that I never wanted to end.
And I fell even more
in love with the boy
I took to the hospital.

Maybe it's because
change is on the horizon,
and a new start is
about to begin,
but I realized that
all I do is pity you.
When something doesn't
work out the way you
wanted,
you go right back
to your old ways,
as though it's actually
going to fix all
of your problems this time.
You can't be clean for
3 days and expect the
world to see you
differently.
It's a commitment.
To yourself,
to become a better
person.
If life *****,
then do something
about it.
I did.
So what's your
excuse.

He makes me feel
hopeful that one day
everything will be better.
And I love him for it.

I'm going to try to be an adult.
I'm going to try to not freak out.
I'm going to try to be smart.
I'm going to try to not miss my mom so much.
I'm going to do this because I can.

We were sitting on
the floor of his laundry
room,
in tears as I was
trying to end it.
But all I wanted
to do was kiss him.
So I scooched closer
and I did.
He asked me why
I did that and
the answer was easy.
I said,
I love you.
So we smoked a few
bowls and talked for
a few hours,
and we ended up
in his bed.
We spent the night
kissing, and
crying.
Making love and
making up.
It was all just
a mis-understanding.

I wanna smoke
cigarettes in the
bath tub.
Lie on my bed
wearing nothing
but a robe.
Spike up my hair
just because I can.
Drive on the little
amount of gas
I have, just to see
how far I get.
I wanna eat breakfast
at the Waffle House
tomorrow morning
with some one,
not say a word and
have that be okay.
I want to dye my
hair black,
because I don't
think my current
situation is me.
I want to smoke
**** all day
and blow my pay check
on cigars and bad food.
I want to wake up
one day and for once,
actually have all of
these things that
I want.

Yes,
I am devastated,
angry, and hopeless.
I am almost 20 years old.
I am almost 20 years old.
I say this about once a day,
not to brag,
but because I am terrified
about where my life is
at this age.
I am nothing.
And there's no nice way to say it.
And absolutely no answers
on how to change it.

Isn't it nice how at the time
when heart break takes place,
we can just sit there playing
Edward 40 hands,
while attempting to give
the world the *******,
because **** it,
we don't need love,
we don't need that person.

But oh, just wait.
In about a month you will
be writhing on the floor in
agony,
crying over the last bottle
of wine,
because alcohol doesn't even
numb the pain anymore.
That strong, independent
single woman walked out
of the room awhile ago and now
all that's left is this shell
of a person who can't find a reason
not to call and beg for them back.

And in case you haven't been
to both sides of the table,
there is no winner.
Whether it was your choice
or not, you'll still end up
on the floor, in some random room
in your house,
where nobody ever sits.

But enjoy the "freedom"
while it lasts,
because you'll never be free
from who you are.

I don't know if I could
ever collaborate with another
writer.
Unless they get inspired the
way I do.
Smoking a bowl,
reading,
a perfect sunrise or sunset,
the flick of a candle in the dark,
and the way his arms feel around me
after being apart for way
too long.
Otherwise the whole thing
would make me sick,
and probably ruin everything
about writing.

There's nothing like smoking
a blunt on the drive home.
It's fun to share,
but even better to have to
yourself.
Just the road,
music and it.

Oh yeah,
there's that moment of happiness
today.

I hate this town.
I hate that I still
******' live here.

And now that it's
summer time,
I am constantly reminded
of him.
A boy that I was
head over heels
obsessed about,
out of nowhere.

Everybody asked me
what I was doing
with him,
and I could never think
of what to say.
But the bottom
of my heart
could only think,
I love you.

We connected,
we just got each other,
never pretending to be
anyone else.

I know every dark secret,
heart break,
suicide attempt,
because he told me.
We really knew each other.

And it was the scariest
thing on earth,
so I ran away,
and he disappeared.

I never told
him
that I  l o v e d  h i m .

I wake up at 9 am,
and slump out of bed.
Shuffle down stairs to the
bathroom and shower.
It takes me around 15 minutes to
blow dry and tame my hair,
before I brush my teeth and
put makeup on.
Smoke a cigarette,
get dressed,
then put my hair up
and savor the time I have before
I have to get in my car and
drive 20 miles to start my 8
hour shift.
But today;
I read.
Charles Bukowski.
The only art form that connects
with me,
and doesn't make me feel
so bad that I don't have it figured out.
But that only lasts 30 minutes,
and now it's time to go to work.

One thing that I hope
never changes is the
way I feel when I
lay down next to you,
and lay my head on your
chest like it's a pillow.
I hope that you always
miss me when I'm gone,
and smile when you see me.
I hope that we always love
each other as much as we do
right now.

Sometimes I can't tell if
I like the way my life is
going or,
if I hate it.
And no matter how much
the hopeless romantic
inside me wants to
see what could be,
I can't get over how it feels
to lay next to him.
And I'm not exactly ready to
let go of the boy who
looks so cute with his hood
up,
and when he is laying there
asleep.
Lately I have began thinking
that comfortable isn't what
I wanted,
but he's not just a boyfriend,
he's my friend,
and I don't have enough of
those here lately.

I've tried for days to
write something
beautiful about you,
but I can't find the words
to say.
Because I haven't seen you,
or heard your voice.
But I know that when that day
comes I will practically
write a novel.

It doesn't bother me
anymore that there
have been people who
left my life
without saying good-bye.
The beauty of age, time and space,
is that it can erase all
the pain and worry you
once carried.
I am comfortable with
who I am,
and I'm done apologizing
for being just that.
It's just not worth it
to try and make others happy,
while forgetting about yourself,
to be criticized or drug down
by people who don't
understand what you want
out of life.
So I can count my friends
on one hand,
but at least I'm happy.

I'm not afraid of what
you think anymore.

What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.*
     -Charles Bukowski <3

Some people never
click with their
parents.
Even after the
terrible teenage
stage ends.
Turns out I'm one
of those people.
I'm a hated stranger
in my own home.
And no matter how hard
I try to make my
parents happy,
it's never good enough.
Somewhere along the
way I became the
disappointment of
the family.
But their doubt
only makes me want
to work harder,
to prove them all
wrong.
I need to get out of here.

Today I will be at work,
but my soul will be off
somewhere in my car,
packed with my old friends.
Enjoying this nice weather in
December.
I'll be reliving old memories,
and ones that never got to be.
Good music,
good bud,
good friends and
good vibes.

I think,
what I need more than
anything are friends.

I literally just
have to keep saying
good vibes right now,
otherwise I'm going
to scream.

I was never your valentine,
and you were never mine.
We didn't make it past
October.

I wonder who you think of
on that fourteenth day of
February,
when you see the words,
*I love you.

You may not know
how much my soul
adores hearing you say
that my words have
power.
That is all I have ever
wanted..
To connect with somebody
through my writing,
and leave a lasting impression
on you.
I'd be lying if I said
I don't still look for your
car at Speedway
before I pull in.
Or skip that glance
as I drive by your road
after work,
because this time,
I might see you.
In a way it's like you're
my guardian angel
who's still here on earth,
because you are the only
one who believes in me,
and what I have to say.
You lift me up right before
I'm about to give up.
Maybe that's why I have
always called you my sunshine.

You make me happy,
*when skies are grey.

I feel so anxious.
My heart is racing,
my mind is overflowing.
I don't know why
because everything is
fine.
I should have drank
a beer.
I am smoking
to prevent myself
from pulling out my hair.
Literally.

I wish I could call
my boyfriend,
but it's 2:27 a.m.

I just felt like I needed
to write.
I know that this
isn't anything profound.

How fascinatingly scary
the troubled mind can be.
She fell in love with one,
so quickly, she thought she
must be crazy.
He was everything she never
thought she wanted.
He was flighty, dangerous,
wreck less, and highly unpredictable.

Every day was a new adventure,
and that was what kept bringing
her back to his bed at two o' clock
in the morning,
wearing his t-shirt and her underwear.

She never got to know how
much he loved her,
or if he even did.

Turns out, she was flighty too
and she ran away,
and locked herself inside with
a bottle of wine,
peeking out the window
looking for his reflection.
After she drank her nights away
with someone else
for more than a couple of weeks,
he was gone.

And she was left to go on
with her days, as though he had
never been a part of them.
And the sad truth is,
now she is the one with the
troubled mind.

I'm having one of those
days where I spend
the hours reminiscing
in my head.
Probably because I have
nothing to do after work.
I miss the days where I
didn't have a boyfriend,
but I had friends.
I had people.
I didn't feel so lost when
I had to be alone.
And I'm kinda mad at myself,
because it's my own fault
for not having anyone in
my life.
And now that I can't see
my boyfriend as often,
I'm stuck in my own head
even more,
trying to escape by
smoking *** and watching
Orange is the new black.
But seasons end.
And then what will I do?

Throughout all of my visits
to Fort St. Clair
I have started noticing
that I'm not the only
person there who is alone,
sitting in their cars just
staring through the windshield
into nature.
I think my town needs
that spot.
So all the people can go there
once in awhile and sit in
peace, or sit
sick with themselves for never
getting out of this town.
I'm there to have peace
and smoke ***.
Maybe they are too.

Happy spots are rare to find,
but when you do,
claim them as your own.

I think I saw you
looking at me,
as I hopped out of
my car to pump gas.
I didn't actually think
it was you.
My heart was beating
a million miles an hour.
I wonder if yours was too.

I decided to
take
the last few minutes of
sunlight
that was left from this beautiful
day,
and stick it in my
pocket
for ones that aren't so
good.

I wrote him
a mess of run on sentences
in a message on Facebook,
one day after work when
the beer gave me false courage.
I haven't read it since
I released it from my grasp.
I never want to.
It's been days,
and he's had no reaction.
He probably doesn't care.
I feel like an idiot,
but my drunk words
were true words.