we've spent approximately three months talking about authors and analyzing works and mentioning things like the author cannot give the audience closure because he doesn't have it himself and all i can think about is how i'm the one who needs comfort in a room full of students but i'm not going to get it

old habits die hard, and now i'm the one with the broken mouth and the burnt tongue, the person whose voice has been taken away because i cannot say things that are pictures anymore and i just wish you would realize how much of a constant struggle it is having to think about your memory at least once

thinking back to when you cared is something that i just can't put into a metaphor; i can't put any of this into a metaphor. if i tried it would go something like the way you made me feel was somewhere between two brick walls that were just continuously closing and i used all my weight to keep them open but i kept growing weaker and you kept growing forceful and the minute the summer days came into full bloom i was completely broken

sometimes i look out my window and i am convinced i need to get away because it will be good for me, but how can i build myself up against a world full of you? you're a drop in the water of *******, and for some reason i can't talk to anyone anymore without feeling like they're apart of your ocean

i'm waiting with all of my heart for thanksgiving -- waiting for the moment when i find out whether or not i can leave, and until them i'm stuck. maybe you remind me of colors and of snow, maybe he reminds me of white cars and hot chocolate, and maybe the other one reminds me of chlorine and equations, but maybe i can escape them all

english teachers will tell you that an author does things on purpose but i disagree. words fall onto the page as effortlessly as water flows through a mountain, and it's just because of this that the beauty of a novel comes about. i've been throwing my own ideas on paper for over a year, and now my own pages are finally soaked with the memories of you that i don't know how to apply the pen to a piece of paper without throwing that paper away. everything begins with a dot but it's time to start writing -- if it's therapy for certain great writes, it can be therapy for me too

i need to stop being afraid.