Ya know, if I hate you,
it's because you destroyed me.
I always wonder,
Man how come I don't see the world the way I used to?
You.
You stole it from me.
I know you could see it on my face, because everyone could.
I scared my mother to death because I had the word ADVENTURE in my eyes.
Every day was like a new beginning, I had so much hope, energy and love.
If I hate you it's because I was only 18.
I will admit that I was too young, naive, ready to soak in any and all compliments from men; but buzzing right by them.
A savage honey bee.

Until you stopped me.
Used me.
Tortured me.
Made me feel small.
Had me believing that without you I was nothing.. when really I was everything.

It feels really good to know
that if you called me tomorrow
and begged for me back
I'd be able to say,
too late


*loser.

Purple lilacs shedding their petals that drift to the ground with each cool breeze.

Just like the season, I am changing.

Stuck between blue water and green houses,
and chilly days that are orange and yellow.

Even though lately I've been stuck behind a filter of grey that far too often turns black.

I am Alice falling down the rabbit hole, watching all of these colors swirl around me, yet unable to grab onto one.

So I'll just enjoy the breeze on the way and hope that where ever I end up is more beautiful than where I am now.

I'm still in love with a girl I used to know. The one I would wake up and see everyday. She was so cool, and hilarious.
She loved having one hand on the wheel while the other held a cigarette.

She wasn't afraid of anything, or expressing herself which she did through pixie cuts and hair dye.

It's just hair, it'll grow back. she would laugh when people would look at her with wide eyes.

Men loved her. You could see it in their face, when they stared as she spoke, and tried to figure out where this girl came from.
Everywhere she went, she left her mark.

She isn't so easy to find anymore.
She let the world get in.
But sometimes I still see her with one hand on the wheel, a smoke in the other;
chasing the sun.

It's so strange how your drunken words can change the way I see myself in the mirror.
You are the guy a girl doesn't want to resist.

My body isn't fooled by this time change.
I know what time it used to be.

My eyes weigh heavy behind day dreams of my bed.

Flannel penguin sheets, watching YouTube videos, drinking a water, and smoking a cigarette after smoking some ****.

When I finally lay down, my nose is cold as it peeks out of the covers.
My furnace still isn't working properly.

Good thing I've never been able to sleep when it's hot any way.
I welcome you, November.

So I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that, I'm not over you.
Still. Ah. Three years.
Some times are better than others.
I hope that one day I can hear your name, and not look up.
See your face in a picture and not stare at your smile for too long.

I don't know where, and I don't know
when.

But, it's okay. I'm okay. I'll always be okay. Even if I never stop loving you.

I'll keep having drunken dreams
about you putting your arm around me.
I lay my head on your shoulder
and you say to someone who asks,
"this is my girl."
I love that.

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.

I am so ******* depressed
that I now have what you'd call
functioning depression.
It just never goes away, and I still
have to pay my bills, so.
I sleep all day
and when I'm awake I stay in
my twin bed under the covers,
and watch The X-files or Bob Ross
on Netflix.
I barely take care of myself, which is probably why I have a cold.
Showers are rare. And shaving is too.
I don't have the money to even leave my house, nor do I have friends
to spend time with.
Without my boyfriend, I'd be alone.
At this point I feel that I will be this way for the rest of my life.
Working to work, with no end in sight.
The fact that I can function is a miracle,
because I certainly don't want to.

I've still got that nervous pit in my stomach.
He invited me over to see his new place.
I went about an hour before I had to go to work.
My stomach was ******* in knots the whole way there.
I actually parked in the Walgreens parking lot just to give myself a minute.
Repeatedly out loud saying,
Oh my god, oh my God!
Finally I mustered the courage and drove to his house.
I waited a second to see if he would come outside but he didn't.
So I knocked.
He opened the door and said,
"Oh hi! Come in."
He began saying it was still a mess and hasn't fully unpacked.
Of course he looked so good.
Really tan from being outside all day, he was wearing a white cut off and basketball shorts.
I glanced around and said,
"How exciting! I like it."
Then I blurted out that I was nervous.
He said, "yeah it has been a long time since we've seen each other."
I first noticed the built in book shelf in the living room, newly painted white.
He didn't have a lamp so the only light was from a candle and the curtains being drawn a bit.
I sat across from him in a chair, he was on the couch.
He asked if I wanted to smoke even though I had to go to work,
and then he laughed a little and mentioned that he could finally teach me how to roll a joint.
We sat across from each other on the floor and he laid out the **** and some papers and began talking through it.
I was sort of successful, but I insisted we use his paper to smoke.
I was beginning to feel relaxed but time was running out.
We talked a bit about music and he showed me the rest of his house.
Then he asked me,
"Are you really gonna go to work?" And smiled.
I laughed and said, "yes."
He said alright and asked me to come back sometime and help him decorate his place.
I noticed the time and told him I had to go.
As he opened the front door he said,
"I wish you didn't have to leave."
I smiled and said, me either.
Outside he excitedly showed me the marijuana plants some one before him had planted and left behind.
He offered one to me if I wanted.
I just said, I'll think about it.
I began to walk away but turned around and said good bye.
He did too.
I got into my car feeling ******, and jittery.
I can't believe I was in his house.
I can't believe he wanted me to stay.
Then I drove to work as the sun was setting.

God, I am the worst.
I just went through and deleted so many poems, and I still need to get rid of more.
They are so embarrassing and sound like crap anyway.
An annoying creepy girl just whining.
When did my writing turn into garbage.
I think I need to take a break.
For a long time.
Writing like this has only brought me down, and makes me wish for things that don't matter.
I need to live the life I have now.
Sorry for all of this **** I've been putting out there.
Maybe when I come back I'll actually have something to say.
God, all the great poets before me would be highly dissapointed.

Life is hard.
But, good.
**** happens, but then the weather is nice, or you smoke some good ***.
And you move on.

Always treading through water,
that gets deeper every year.
So you tell yourself,
at least it's not over my head.

But you wonder what will happen when it gets there.

Sometimes my thoughts come and go so quickly that I feel dizzy.

Try to remember what my therapist taught me.
Try to implement the techniques.

But truthfully the only solution to anxiety is action.
Results.
Solving the problem.

Otherwise the closet continues to get fuller, overflowing with thrift store jackets, Christmas decorations, and worry.
The life changing magic of tidying up also works on the brain.

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.

As each day passes we get farther and farther away from each other.
I used to be able to wake up and know you still missed me.
Know that I ran through your mind that day.
I'm farther away from when you put on Fear and Loathing and handed me a beer, only to take it from my hand later and kiss me for the first time.
That bond we had is gone now.
We talk every few months or comment on each other's facebook posts.
We used to see each other every day.
I miss you all the time.
I never told you that I loved you.
But I did.
I loved you like crazy

Recently I have found myself having trouble writing.
And feeling pleased with the outcome.

Someone told me to write what I believe is true, not what I want to hear.

Well I have been writing about you, mostly.
For years now.
And none of it was true.
But it was definitely what I wanted to hear.. from you.

So what do I believe is true?

...

I think I just had a very sober thought.

     Just.

Stop
        Caring.