The trees talk to me in my sleep. Sometimes the walls do too.

Sometimes the tree's and the walls talk to each other while I just listen. I can't speak their language, but I know they are speaking about something amazing. I tried to learn languages. Spanish, latin even, but none of them seem to stick. I feel like I'm drowning, and then I begin to float only to drown again.

I lose myself sometimes, and bread crumbs don't help me find my way back. I get scared most of the time as well. Everything scares me and it's a waste of time to scream all of my fears so I keep them under my skin. I feel so small sometimes, and then I don't. Sometimes I believe I drank the growth potion like that ******* Alice and everything is too small for me. But then I shrink, and I feel insignificant as a piece of dust in the sunlight.

Because who really cares about one dust in the sunlight? Sure it's pretty, but you don't take the time to wonder about where it came from and how it got there. It's a stupid, little piece of dust. That's what I feel like.

Besides all the times I feel disconnected from myself and the world, there are times, moments I guess you would say, that I feel like I was meant to be there. There are times where I believe whoever is up there is actually paying attention to me and not regretting. But thats only for a small moment. Did I mention that I'm usually sad? The weirdest things make me sad, and the weirdest things make me happy. I think whoever made me did it with their eyes closed for ***** and giggles.

I do not love him.

Maybe for a bit I did, but I don't now.

I have to keep telling myself about the sarcastic way he said, "I'll always be here," and "I won't leave,". I have to keep telling myself about the way he would love his alcohol more than my company.
He never waited for me, or held the door. He had to be the first one to leave and the first one to arrive. He turned his head when he saw something he didn't like, and he would die before trying anything new.

I do not love him.
but I did.

I fell in love with the way he said my name and the rasp in his voice when he said, "I'll always be here,". I fell in love with how he would look at me like I was his whole world, and become jealous when other boys would look at me the same way. He would play with my fingers and look at them for the longest time as if he was trying to decipher some lost language of the human body. And when he would stare at my lips, I would just crumble into his sublime. I loved the way his thumb would run over my lower lip like he wanted to touch me just to be sure I was real and not a dream.

I do not love him.
but I did before.
not anymore.

Not after he slammed the door in my face and deleted me from his life like a single button. He refused to look at me and when he would say my name it sounded like a stranger. I don't love him anymore because of his growing lies and distant hands. After he decided to ruin my heart he went the extra mile and ruined my life.

Every song had his name in it, and every piece of clothing smelled like him. He ruined me in the most deadliest ways: by slowly ripping my heart out with his green eyes.

I don't love him.
but I did.

His heart was as cold as the Alaskan air but his voice was as warm at the alcohol he drank and that was the only thing I'm still in love with.

I always walk up the stairs with a cup of tea filled to the brim. Not even walking just taking small steps periodically just in case the tea spilled. Sometimes I made it to the top and sometimes I spilled it and I would have to come back downstairs, go the the kitchen, get a paper towel, wipe up the mess, throw the paper towel away and try again.

It was a very tedious Task.

My mother used to yell at me for the times I get too lazy to clean up the mess and just allow the tea to dry up on the floor to stick.

When I was twelve I realized how many times I allowed the tea to dry up. Most of the time I didn't even care if all the tea spilled by the time I got to the last staircase. The boiling hot tea spilling on my feet and the carpet and the granite didn't bother me. My mind was wayward- somewhere unknown. My thought process didn't care to think about my mother after a hard days work coming home to yell at her old enough daughter to stop drinking upstairs. She used to get so mad at me sometimes wondering why I always said "I don't care,".

She used to despise me for it, and I did too.

Maybe I liked how the tea burned my feet causing me to walk faster, maybe I liked the pain. Maybe I was too busy to care about the abundance of spills maybe I wasn't. Maybe I just didn't care.

The whole world stopped spinning for me but my mind didn't. I loved leaving a trail of sweet hot tea for me to follow again and again, my mother didn't.

Finally my mother broke all the teacups and threw away all the tea we had in the house. In all honesty I freaked out. I could've ripped the whole house from its foundation and throw it toward the horizon. I could've take matches and burn the place down letting its ashes fill the toxic sky. I could've done all of that.

But I didn't. I disintegrated into my covers and let my bed seep me in, like tea leaves brewing. I was brewing.

And like the perfect cup of tea, I finally became that dark, rich color with the perfect amount of milk and sugar, placed onto a saucer that was the right size. I the ridges kept me in place and the walk upstairs wasn't so bad anymore.

-The Name That Should Never Be Spoken*

I know you still think about him. and I'm sorry to tell you that you still will. the color green will never be the same for you and you'll still flinch every time you hear his name. and I'm so sorry because he doesn't give a crap about you. no matter how many times you change your outfit in the morning for the slim chance he might remember your name.

he won't. he will never.

you're just another girl that's infatuated with him. you're just another victim. stop being a victim. he's not worth it. loving him is not worth it. love isn't supposed to hurt that much. I know we don't have that much experience in the love department but I know you're not supposed hate loving someone. you're so dumb for giving every part of yourself to him. didn't you realize there was nothing left. didn't you realize that you started to become a shadow of who you once were, but even that was fading. I know it hurts and it still does. you won't even bring yourself to say his name, so don't. because he is not worth it. he was a waste of time.

you deserve someone who will love you back and will actually remember your name. you deserve someone who will touch you without even putting his hands on you. you deserve someone who could take off your party dress and see the memories and heartaches and laughs laced into your skin along with the dreams and hopes. you deserve someone who's strips away all of the anger you have underneath your pores because that's all you really wanted to take off.

Dear ——,  
There are a few things I wanted to mention. Don’t worry, this wont be long and depressing I promise. I just wanted you to know that I’ve learned a lot for my time on this planet. For some reason I feel like I’ve lived thousands of lives already, and gradually picked up on some things in my time. This is what I want to mention to you. I’m not sure if it’s the secret of our unfathomable lives, or just a bunch of cliche words tied together to make you feel something. But I’m still going to mention it.
I was in pretty bad place before, and I’m most likely still in a bad place but thats okay because I was there and I felt everything and everyone. Even if I hated them, I knew they came into my life for a reason. You see, I believe everything happens for a reason. And **** those people who say everything doesn't matter because it does. And it does because you’re there and they're there, and you are all there together and it all ******* matters because you matter. Don’t ever believe all of this doesn't matter. Because if you do, I’ll start to feel bad for you, and nobody likes being pitied.
I’ve also done many bad things. To myself and mostly other people. I’ve had a hard time in this life, but I think it was worth it. I think all the pain, the stress, the dissociation, the mental issues, the loneliness- it was all worth it for this moment I’m in right now.
Because in this moment, I’m in the comfiest red truck. I am covered in the warmest blanket. My favorite song in the whole universe is on a low hum. The sky is a bright orange descending into a faded twilight. The stars are so bright, and I don't even care if they are most likely dead, they are still hopeful. The mountains make me feel like I belong somewhere. The sun’s orange light is illuminating you, and I swear to god you look like an angel. And you love me with every bone in your body, and I love you with every atom in mine, and thats okay.
I guess what I’m saying is that, don’t be afraid of death. Don’t be afraid of the unknown. Learn to love it. Learn to love what you hate. Learn to love who you hate. Learn to give yourself to everything and everyone even if its dangerous. Learn to love goodbye’s. Learn to love Mondays. Learn to love the bad days. Learn to love every bad thing in the world. Learn that everything no matter how ugly it is, is so beautiful. And truly beautiful things never die.
So, this is goodbye. This is my last letter to you. These are my final words. They're not great, but thats okay. I just want you to know that right now I’m staring at you, and you are so ******* beautiful. I never thought I would love someone so much, but there you are, breathing everything in. You’ll be fine, I swear to you. And who knows? Maybe, I’ll see you my next life, because whoever’s up there knows I’ll look for you. I always do.


love,
——

I am everyone, and I am no one. I am the air in your lungs, and I am your lungs. I am the blood that pumps through your veins, and I am the wind that barely touches your skin. I am your mother, your lover, and your friend. I don't know who I am, but you know who I am. You love me and you hate me. I am your darkest secret, and your favorite memory. I am all the bad and good in the world. I am the rug beneath your feet and your pillow you keep flipping to find the coolest side. I am your bed, I am your home. I am... but then again I am not.

I am a ghost, a simple shadow that no one notices. I am the thing you don't see, but feel. I am the background people in your dreams that you can't seem to remember. I am not even a memory. I am a figment of your vast imagination, I am not real. So you see, this world is so big and its not. We are this contradicting light and darkness that is called the human race. And I may or not be real, but I know you are. I know you are gravity itself. I know you are the big bang, and the space and time continuum. You are here. You've always been here. And even when your bones rot, and your name fades on your tombstone, you will still be here.

You will still lead, and I will still follow.

I like when silence fills my veins and the distant hum of civilization is barely in my ear. I like when the steam from my cup of tea fogs up my glasses and I have to put down my book for a second just so I can wipe them. I like when I get lost in the pages of a book and it feels like I'm watching a film in my head; making it up as I go.

I enjoy being alone.

Though, I do not enjoy when I'm lonely. I hate when I'm in a room filled with people and everyone seems to be laughing and having a good time while I'm by the corner wondering where to begin. I hate when I start talking and then gradually fade out because I've realized that no one gives a **** about what comes out of my mouth unless it's blood. I hate when I ask for help and I can physically see someone getting annoyed with me and roll their eyes wishing to be anywhere else. I hate when I find myself the loneliest when I'm surrounded by a group of people.

I enjoy being alone.