I used to be addicted
to the feeling of a blade
pressing into my skin.

I used to be addicted
to seeing those red dots
forming a ****** line.

I used to be addicted
to my own blood and
the relief it brought me.

I used to be addicted
to metal.


the world must be addicted
to the feeling of power and
violence and destruction.

the world must be addicted
to bullets in brown flesh
and mothers' cries.

just like I was, the world
must be addicted to blood.
its iron still tastes metallic.
it's still red.

just like blood,
guns also taste metallic
when the barrel is
in your mouth.


the world and I
have different views,
but we have one
thing in common.

we're both addicted
to metal.

you like to pretend
that you are blind.
your friends like
to believe you.

but you can't keep up
this act forever.

soon, you will need
to open your eyes.
you will need
to look around.

you will start reading
that newspaper left
decaying on your doorstep.


when you finally see
the pain that you've
been privileged enough
to never feel,

when you've read
about enough pain
to put that gun
in your own mouth,

don't pull the trigger.
the world doesn't need
any more violence.

soon, you won't be able
to ignore the screams.
you will see how
the world is hurting,
and how your ignorance
has helped cause this.

you won't be able
to live with yourself.

but when you turn that gun
towards your own head,

don't pull the trigger.
the world doesn't need
any more bullets.

what it needs is
for you to help ensure
that no more triggers are pulled.

seated on the back
of your motorcycle,
I held onto you
a little too tight.

you laughed
at my fear.

but what you didn't know
was that I wasn't afraid
of letting go and falling
and hurting myself.

I was afraid because
for my whole life,
letting go of things meant
never seeing them again.

I was afraid that
if I loosened my grip,
you would drive away
and you would be gone.

injuries are temporary
and skin always heals,
but sometimes
heartbreak doesn't.

I wasn't afraid
of broken bones
or bloodied clothes.

I was afraid
of losing you

because I knew
that losing you would
hurt far worse than
scrapes and bruises.

when I found love,
it was nighttime.

I remember hoping that
maybe he couldn't see
what I looked like
in the darkness.
we laugh at that now.

it was a real fear then,
but now I realize how
irrational it was.

how does that make any sense?
someone who loves you
will see you eventually.
if they wouldn't want to see you,
then how can you call that love
in the first place?

you shouldn't need to
dress up and go on dates.
true love is found
wearing sweatpants
and a baggy shirt,
with no makeup on.

you shouldn't need to
go looking for love.

the truth is that
you will be alone
for a while, maybe even
for a long time.

and the truth is
that loneliness will hurt
and it will not be easy.

but if you go looking
for love before you are
meant to come across it,
you will only find it
in the wrong places.

when you do find love,
it won't be perfect.
it will be messy sometimes
and awkward and hard,
but don't throw it away.

it's that messiness and
that imperfection and
those awkward moments.

those are love.

love is being yourself
with someone who loves you
for being yourself,

and who doesn't
just want to love you.

they want you to love yourself
the same way that they love you.

they want you to see yourself
through their eyes,
so that you can finally know
how truly amazing you are.