I am still standing here on the side of the road,
bags in hand.
Like you opened the door and shoved me out,
said you’d come back later.
The sun is setting though,
and it’s getting cold.
I’m beginning to think you aren’t
coming back.

I remember my dad
told me that if I’m
going to drink and drive
I should throw
the empty out the window.

It’s the only time he’s okay
with littering.

I just got home from work and driving through the sun rise after stopping at the gas station for cigarettes.
The pink lightbulb guides me up the steps to my apartment and I'm greeted by Sophie the pitbull,
she wiggles and runs happy to see me.
She's the first one into the bedroom when I open the door and as I change out of my work clothes I pet her and kiss her head, complimenting on how cute she is the whole time.
Then I light a candle, pack a bowl and go to Netflix in search of Bob Ross, The Joys of Painting.
On this episode he is painting a night scene in the forest.

He said that he
rolls over to my side
of the bed
after I get up in
the morning,
because it’s warm
and the pillow still smells
like me.

***** fingernails
and cheap wine.
Fleetwood Mac and chicken tenders.
Snapping you little flirty faces
saying how much I’d like to make out.
Feels like we’re a couple of teenagers drunk in like.

Just a silly girl who can’t wait to see you
and pretend you don’t know what I look like
in the dark.

I know it’s so simple.
The answer is obvious but even as I sit here thinking about it I still use my left hand to find the few remaining short hairs in my bangs and pull on them one at a time until they pop out.
In therapy last week I explained the process of how I decide which hair to pull and my therapist was fascinated by this.
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
I just want to stop.
I hate that it feels impossible.
My hair is completely trashed and I am so ashamed of the mess I made.
I feel bad for my boyfriend that he’s dating this overly anxious loser with bald spots.
It’s not what he signed up for.

So I’m going to stop.
After I hit post I will not let myself even touch my head.
Just thinking about it now makes me want to do it so bad.

Last night I watched a video about a girl who dealt with the same thing I do.
Trichotillomania (hair pulling)
But she was able to beat it.
Everything she said was 100% true, and it felt like someone gets it.
It’s something that no one cares about other than you.
People claim to not notice it, or pretend that they don’t.
They laugh when you tell them, because they think it’s a joke, that it can’t be real.
Significant others get sick of telling you to stop, and picking your hair off all of their clothes.
It’s embarrassing, shameful, and frustrating.
And I’ve done it for 8 years.
But this time, for real, I am going to beat it.
I only pulled out one hair all day, so far so good.
Just now I almost put my fingers in my hair but I didn’t.
I’m hoping with time it’ll get easier.

I was walking to the bathroom to get ready for work and he said,
“You’ve been making me really happy lately.”
I stopped and asked, really?
“Haven’t you been able to tell?”
I looked at the floor and then back at him.
I could, I just didn’t want to get my hopes up

He asked if I’m happy,
and I thought how could I not be
as long as he’s beside me.

Pink and red
and a mix of the two;
long stemmed
and cut
set neatly in the vase.
I already picked
two of the petals
that had fallen
and placed them in between
the pages of a book
to keep.
I got flowers for Valentines Day
for the first time
as an adult
and it feels really good.

I once made out with a guy
I now consider a friend
in front of a bar until he asked
to go back to my place.
I could barely drive because
he couldn’t keep his hands off me.
As I fumbled to unlock the door he
had his arms around my waist,
kissing my neck.
Once we made it to my bed he
kept saying how long he had been
wanting to do this with me,
and then in between drunken kisses
he slurred, I love you.
I actually laughed and said,
No you don’t, you just love me right now.

I can’t go back and read anything
I’ve written in the last year.
I don’t know if I ever will.
It makes my stomach hurt.
So I’ve kind of quit writing;
for now.
I don’t need to remember this
part of my life.

Why do I hate being alone
so much.
I always need him, here.
With me,
just walking,
sitting,
laying down.
I need to hear his words
speed up as he's talking about
things he loves,
feel the warmth of his body
against mine.
I just need him.

I know that it's April.
Months away from the anniversary.
But I just got done watching an episode of I survived, that focused on those that made it on 9/11.
My heart breaks more and more for all of those people, and for the country I love so much.
But it goes to show how strong the human spirit is, that people actually lived to tell their stories.
I hope to visit New York one day just to stand where all of those braves souls stood, who risked their lives for those of others.
It's powerful. And humbling.
I was just six years old on that day, but I remember the fear I felt all the way in Ohio.
We were released from school early after the principal came in to tell our teacher.
Crying; she said that something terrible has happened and we need to be with our families.
On the bus ride home, my sister and I didn't speak while other kids chatted away like nothing had happened.
When we got home, I saw my older step sister crying, and screaming on the phone in front of the TV.
I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing because I was too young to understand.
But I was terrified.
What seemed like awhile later,
we were playing in the back yard, when the loudest noise I'd ever heard blasted through the sky.
My mom ran outside and yelled for us to come in, we were being bombed.
We went down to the basement,
and waited.
After about ten minutes of silence, my mom went upstairs, soon saying it was okay to come out.
Later we learned the sound barrier had been broken
That day, the country became one, out of the fear, heartbreak and love for our fellow mankind,
and that is why I'll never forget.

America, land of the free, home of the truly brave. <3

I'm trying to decide what to do while sitting at the dining room table with wet hair, and no sound except passing cars, and the birds chirping outside.
I need to go to the store but I have no idea what I need because my mind is empty.
The only thing I can think about is whether or not I want to change my life today.
Not just my life.
I might sit here until my hair dries going back and forth, probably writing a thousand poems about the same thing.
It just feels like it's time, but, it won't for him.

I used to have interaction on here but for the past 6 months my account has had zero.
No one is seeing my writing. Please help

I am such an angry person and it's all because of you.
I would leave you today, but I know it would break your heart.
I mean, who else could you find that does everything I ******* do?
And when I'm stressed and anxious you can't even give me five minutes to talk.
You never try to make me feel better.
*******.
*******.
I hate you so ******* much.
Keep sleeping on my ******* couch,
you definitely need your rest for a big day of doing NOTHING!!!

He thinks I’m pretty,
even though he fell asleep
when we were supposed to hangout.
I can let it slide this time
because he still had me
kicking my feet and smiling
like an idiot.
I read up on his horoscope
as most girls with a crush do,
and was pleased to find we are
very compatible.
I am going to be filled with
butterflies all day
because we rescheduled for tonight.

I bet you’ve found the girl of your dreams.
*******, a perfect *** that she’s worked for in the gym for 10 years.
Long blonde hair and clear skin.
Tall and tan because she grew up in Florida.
I bet she’s rich from daddy’s money,
and barely calls you because she’s “independent.”
I bet you make sure she finishes every time you make love and are gentle and kind in a way you never were with me.
I bet you’re already planning on marrying that girl some day.

I hope she breaks your heart.
I hope she cheats on you with everyone you know.
Your best friend, someone you trust.
I hope you can’t sleep or eat and cry for months.
I hope she ruins your self esteem and makes you swear off ever trying again.
Like you did to me.

I know you apologized and swore you’d never do anything so horrible again, and I wish I could say I’m happy for the girl who will get everything I ever wanted..
but it doesn’t help knowing I’m the only one you ever felt deserved to be treated like garbage.

I hope she ***** your dad.