It was him.
I woke up to a friend request.

I've been waiting for this day
for 6 months.

I love you so
much.
I just wish you believed
me.
Even when I'm not around.

You're my best friend
and everything and every minute
in between.

I actually don't even have words
for how I feel about you,
because you've never broken
my heart.
I'm still blinded by love
baby.

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.

He said,
I have a surprise.
and then handed me a
notebook.
He wrote a song about me.
And the hopeless romantic/writer,
in me fell in love all over again.

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 a photo
that hangs in his
living room.
It's of a little boy
with big brown eyes,
and crazy dark hair,
he's smiling.
I know it's him.
Although I have never
asked,
and he has never told me.
As I left today
I realized I have
never seen him that
happy before in my life.
He left all his joy
behind with his childhood.

I've been pulling all
night long.
Watching as each strand
of hair falls from my fingers
into my lap.
I'll notice the difference
tomorrow and feel angry and
embarrassed about what I've done.
I know that I'm
doing this,
but it's also not my fault.
I can't stop and nothing could be
any worse.

I'm thinking about quitting
my job.
Well then what would you do?
I don't know.
Take a week off,
and get a job at Staffmark
or somewhere else.
I know it's not easy to just find
a job quickly,
but I also know it's not that hard.
I'm just tired of being miserable
every time I have to wake up
and go to this place.
And I'm sick of the miserable people
that I work with.
I know that every time I turn
a corner someone is probably
talking ****.
I'm too old and too tired for that.
But I guess that's what happens
when you work with all women.
I really want to quit my job.

I wrote a poem
about you,
but decided it
was garbage.
Instead of
just throwing
it away,
and letting you
sit with the trash,
I used it to
roll a joint and
watched as the words
I wrote about you
turned to ash.

For as long as we are together,
I will be happy to say you're mine.
I still fall in love with
your smile,
and the way you kiss me.
I have my doubts.
But you never do.
The other day, as I drove away
down your road,
I couldn't stop crying.
This wasn't what I wanted.
So I turned around.
You were playing basketball,
and you said you loved me.
Later while playing mini golf,
I couldn't even remember what
we were fighting about.

Thank you for being relentless.

I can't say I remember the first
time we met.
Because we were both just passing
through.
But I do remember the first
time I remembered you.
It was a week before my 18th
birthday and we all jammed into
my sisters tiny 4 door
Corsica.
It was you, me, my sister,
Josh and Cameryn.
We made these plans the day before.
I was sitting in the middle,
in the back seat and you were
on my left.
You were so opposite of what
everyone said you were.
You were funny, but reserved,
we kept sharing cigarettes,
and you'd throw the butts
out of the window.
You were smoking L&M;
Turkish blend.
I, of course, Camels.
You and josh opened the back doors,
as the car was moving and
pretended you were going
to fall out.
You were crazy.
And exciting.
We went to the head shop in
Oxford and you made little jokes
at me because I wasn't old enough
yet to look at the bowls.
You bought some cigars and
a wooden pipe
and started smoking from both.
We all had ice cream at the UDF,
before we headed back,
passing packed bowls back and forth
around the car.
That was the first time I felt
that feeling around you.
That day.
When we took you home that night,
all I wanted to do was gush to
my sister about how great you were.
But I didn't.
I just couldn't stop telling
myself instead.

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.

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.

If something ever actually
went right, and
turned out the way it should,
then I guess that's what they call
death.
Because nothing is ever good,
or right in life.
You change jobs in hopes that
it makes you happy,
and makes you money,
only to find out you never should have
come here.
You follow your brain instead
of your heart,
and you end up loving two people
at the same time.

I am beginning to think that
everything and everyone is too
good to be true.
Actually,
being alive is too good to be true.

The only reason I'm able
to stand watching golf
is because I have a glass
of wine between my legs.
I've thought about turning on
the radio,
but that requires getting up.
Today,
he told me he got me something.
A late birthday present.
I wish I could type in a smile.
I have people in my life
that care about me for the first
time in a long time.
Maybe my twenties won't be so
bad after all.

I used to really believe
that you would always be
there waiting.
But now I know,
if the universe wanted
us to be together,
we would be by now.
We were meant to
meet,
to love,
to go through that
together.
But after all,
the brightest
stars burn out
the fastest.
You can't go back
in time,
and relive a memory.
My heart will always be
missing a little piece,
the one that I gave to you.
I hope you think of me
whenever you come
across Daft Punk
and Alt-J.
Whenever the stars
are out and the weather
is perfect.
When you are tripping,
and expanding your mind.
I will be there with you.
Peace, love and happiness
my friend.
In another life
we will be married.

I had the most vivid
dream about him last night.
We were together in a
house that I don't recognize,
in a huge bed.
He said something like,
I've missed this.
And before I could agree,
he kissed me.
I know what it felt like.
I saw his face so close to mine.
The last thing I remember is
saying,
My step dad's home.
you should go!
And him jumping up,
kissing me again
and then he said,
See you later.

I woke up lost,
in my own room,
suddenly back in my own bed.
I felt odd for hours afterwards.

I realize that by
keeping to myself and writing
every thing down,
I have become so self involved.
I just wallow in my misery
and don't focus on all the
good in my life.
Maybe if I could just
get out of my head,
I could finally be happy
in life and my relationship.
Wanting so many things
and trying to make it sound
beautiful have become exhausting.
I just need to admit that I'm
an *******.

You're the one that
I always thought I knew.
It took me almost 6
careful months,
of late nights,
empty beer cans,
and used up pipes.
But it wasn't just me getting
to know you,
you got to know me
in the darkest corners
of the morning.
And before my own eyes,
you almost had me figured out,
although I was no where close.
I'm sure that you know
I still care and miss you.
But there's not even
a breeze in the wind
that tells me you feel the same.

I know I never should've
had any expectations,
but **** if I had
and if I was single and
invested,
I would be highly disappointed.
Dating *****.
Being single and getting to
know someone and letting
them know you,
and nothing coming from it
*****.
I truly empathize if you're
going through this
right now.
It's a stupid system.
I really am lucky to have
someone I can rely on
not to bail on me,
to love me for me.
I'm sorry but guys have
just turned into disappointments.
Stay single ladies.
The dating pool is full
of sharks.

I've seen more people
smile at seven in the
morning,
than I ever have
at night.
Apparently all the
happy people have
day jobs.

The guy who works
at Speedway,
bought my coffee
this morning.


What a wonderful way
to start off a Friday.

Now I'm even smiling.

I need to wipe this
smile off my face.
But I can't when it was
created by you.

Heavy eyes,
dizzy head.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Repeat.
Kinda like you.
It seems like we've been
here before.
But I wonder for how long.
After the last time things
went wrong,
I was sure that was it.
And now I feel desperate
to keep you.
Like these last two buds
I have in my bag.
I will smoke it nice
and slow.

I miss being alone,
and taking time for myself.
I miss sitting on the couch,
sharing a bowl with my lips
and catching up on a show that I love.
I miss watching the sun set,
and not saying a word.
Taking walks, or going on a cruise.
True peace and quiet.
I miss smoking in my car at
the fort at nine in the morning.
Taking my time after a shower,
because I have nowhere to go.
Greed and gluttony used to be my lovers,
spending all of my money on things that I want,
whenever I want it.

I miss all of the time that I once
thought was being wasted.

Hello dirt bike boy,
sometimes I wonder if
I should even still call
you that.
Do you ride anymore?
Or did another hobby,
or another girl replace
what you once loved?
I keep seeing your face
on the profile of people's
facebooks that I didn't even
know you knew..
I will never escape your
ghost for as long as I'm in
this state.
I hope that someday we
will talk again,
and make up
as different people.

But for now I will stay
haunted by your presence
all over this ******* county.

I don't know
who I am.

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.

There really is no feeling
like the one I get,
whenever I hear or see
him.
Somehow I relive
every memory I have
in the time
it takes to say his name.
I miss everything that
he is, that he was.
The first time we hung out
we were drinking on
his couch,
until he took my beer,
set it down,
and started kissing me.
He was the typical bad boy,
funky black hair,
that he didn't take care of
but still looked great.
Tattoos all over his body,
his choice of vehicle was
a dirt bike,
didn't get along with
authority,
and he was wild in bed.

We probably could have
been a great couple.

But I never gave him a chance,
and that is a choice I
may regret forever.

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.

I know what people say
about distance in a relationship.
If it's a good strong, trusting
relationship, then it'll be okay.
And I just wanna ask that person,
Have you ever tried to maintain
a relationship where you go
from seeing each other every day
to hardly at all?
Yeah?
And did it work out, still with
that person?
No? I don't even need the reason why.
So next time someone says something
about worrying about space,
be kind, but don't lie.
And if you can't tell the truth,
then just don't say anything
at all.

We drove to work
together,
and went home
together.
But this time we got
to sleep in the
same bed.
We smoked a bowl
while we watched tv,
and then made
love under the covers.
I fell asleep to the
sound of his heart beat.
I wish I could wake up
like that every day,
it was like we were
married.
It was wonderful.

Why does ***** go hand in hand
with that ache in the pit of your
stomach.
It's like it's filling up
the empty space someone left
there.
I guess I just feel sick
because I don't understand
what happened.
What did I do?

Starting over always sounds
so good,
until it's too late and you
realize that what you really
wanted was there all along.
But will you be brave
and try to turn around,
and turn back time,
even though the possibility of
rejection is not in your favor?
Or will you be brave and
continue trying to move on,
and make the best out of
what you have.
But, the thing is.
It's too easily forgotten that
this is the only life we will
have a chance to take
full advantage of.
So when you get to that
fork in the road,
which path will you take,
and will you be happy with
your choice?

There's a feeling in the air
tonight.
It's electric.
Dangerous.
Intoxicating.
Makes me want to hop
in the passenger seat of his car,
and drink and smoke with all the windows down.
Makes me feel unpredictable.
Makes me feel like living.

I saw you and your little family today.
It was only for a second,
as I drove by from my busy life.
I hope you know how lucky
you are.
I hope that it's all enough,
to keep you happy.
This may not have been the life
you chose,
but its obviously the one you were meant
to live.
So I guess what I'm saying is,
don't have any regrets, or wonder what
could have been, with me.
Because none of that matters now,
a year later,
and look where we are.
Strangers again.

There's no other light
in the room besides the cherry
burning the end of my cigarette.
Just like the rest,
I write better in the dark.
Laying in this bed, and
staring out the window,
I realized I'm living,
but not really; in
my own prison cell.
Trapped and stuck in one
place, unable to move on.