i want somebody to look close enough to see everything i’ve been hiding. how will i know? when i fall in love again, how will i know that it wont be like last time? i’m afraid i might be destined to die alone. being shy in 2018 is like being a woman in the 60’s. i can’t stop picking at scabs i’ve created myself. i’m not sure how much of a metaphor that really is. there’s a difference between heartbreak and abuse although people write about them as if they are the same. rejection is not the same as destruction. i hate how violently my hands shake. i am 17 kinds of amnesia. i am the answer to ambiguous security questions. i could die today and wait for you to forget about mourning the loss. getting better is not synonymous with going away. i am choking on my own fist in most instances. darling, live. i love you. please read this. please stay. my emotions feel like deleted voicemails. lost blood bags. is this what you wanted? i can’t rhyme or write or lie the same. mommy, is this who you thought i’d become? don’t answer that. i am still trying to find names for the emotions that have lied behind my eyes for decades. sometimes it is taken and never given back. i think that’s just life. most nights i still miss him. missing. miss-ing. that doesn’t mean i want it back. i want you to bite my lips until they bleed. i should know how to ease what has already happened, but i don’t. i wish i was in love right now. i wish i was sure that was the truth. i am too distracted by the tragedies of every blue within green. i still cant sleep on his side of the bed. i want her to be able to hold me without flinching. do you remember the night you fell asleep in my passenger seat and i fell in love with your skin bathed in brake lights? me neither. my best friend called me selfish. i’m beginning to believe her. does my crumbling fascinate you? the world is too loud. i don’t belong here. i am alone. i am dying. crash the car. do not resuscitate. please help me.