Sometimes I really wonder
if I need God in my life.
Some kind of God.
Except I'm such an ******* that I don't
believe any religion.
I'm agnostic I guess.
But I make the worst decisions,
and my life is such a mess that I can't even walk through it.
I run, I trip and I get lost.
But, I don't want to anymore.
My anxieties are ruining my life though,
and since no human can help me...
Maybe the creator could.

Sometimes I think about
the things that have happened in
my life.
Mostly, that night I sat on
a rooftop with a boy.
God, I get butterflies just thinking
about it.
It was one of those perfect moments,
like you see in movies and think,
"Nobody does that."
But.. They do.
The lucky ones anyways.
He had his guitar and he said,
" I learned how to play a song
that reminds me of you."
"hey **, by the lumineers."
"Will you sing?"
He asked me so nicely I couldn't say no.
So, he started playing and I started to sing,
and it became this magical thing and I didn't even care about how bad my voice was,
because I was happy.
That song reminded me of him for months after he left.
I couldn't listen to it without wanting to cry.

I'm tired of doing this.
I'm tired of trying.
I want to move back home,
into my tiny bedroom,
with panel walls.
I don't want to try to pay the bills
all by myself in this apartment
anymore.
I have no health insurance,
so now I have to buy my birth control.
Everyone seems to think I'm doing
so well for once in my life,
but I'm not.
I am so poor,
I go hungry everyday,
I go without the things I need,
things my dog needs.
I don't want to be 20 anymore.
So I am crying so hard into my pillow,
I can't breathe.
I need help.
Will things ever get better?
Or will I end up losing everything I go broke for?
I don't want to get out of this bed,
I am so ******* depressed.
I hate my life.

I sat and watched my
brindle pitbull
Sophie;
as she stood over the heater,
like the she always does.
Her head hanging down,
ears flapping.
And suddenly I thought about how
one day that will just be a memory
of a dog I used to have,
in my first apartment.
That, like all other moments I wish
I could have pocketed,
this will become the past too.
Maybe, next time she goes *****
in the house,
I won't be so mad.

If this love gets washed down the drain,
discarded like an empty pop can;
If I get stepped all over...

I'm tired of never being enough,
I'll never be enough.

Instead of building a beautiful life with me in my rickety shack,
they jump out of the window and run towards the mansion with a better view.