My mouth is scarred
and my gums
are bleeding out.

My captive words
are decaying me.

Dime bags burned up in one bowl,
two **** rips to make your head spin
backs up against an old fence,
paint flaking off onto your beige sweater,
It seemed fitting that the last time we would be able to make love,
we had no where to go.
Instead we kissed under the stars,
in a strangers lawn,
and I knew without words
that I had already left your concerns.

I held you like a helium balloon,
cautiously,
knowing all too soon,
you would float away from me.

You will flock to the ocean,
where it is easier for you to breathe,
and eventually
I will retreat to the desert
where my bloods flows easier.

You were one of the people,
we all come across in our lives,
who mean so little
and so much
to us, all at once.

Your gorgeous freckles,
and the smell of cigarettes mixed with cologne,
will remind me of this summer,
and nights with no sleep,
anywhere we could find to be together.

I told myself I wouldn't write a poem about you,
spotted boy
but I can't fully accept what happened
without writing it down.

So thanks for all the nights you held me,
and all the kisses you gave me,
and all the times you made me feel good,
and all the times you made me laugh,
and thank you for making this summer so much brighter
with your big smile and your big blue eyes
and of course,
those gorgeous freckles.

Sometimes I wish I could be a seed.
I'd be warm in the ground until I decide to grow up.
I'd spread my wings, and push through the dirt.
I'd grow, I'd be tall an beautiful.
I'd touch the sky.
I'd be taken care of.
And everyone who saw me, would stare.
And I'd be happy.
And even as I wilted, I'd be happy.
Because I still had the memories of the days when I was tall and beautiful.
And everyone who saw me, just had to stare.

Pigment shaded
I'm in the light now,
out of the dusty room
dark circles beneath bright eyes
pale skin
I think I became
luminous?
I felt like I was melting.
So sure,
everything was okay.
I wasn't okay,
and neither were you.

I'm in the light now,
it's hot here,
but the desert burned away
my doubts.
I'm cleansed again,
and all of my freckles
are returning to me,
lining my nose
there's roses in my cheeks.
I feel like a child again.

Today is your 53rd birthday
and the 6th year
that I haven't been around for it
because you chose the handle of Kessler whiskey
over your own ******* daughter.
So drink up,
Daddy.

Candle light,
oh love
it burns within us,
roaring fires
heated from the core,
always.
Timber plenty
in our woods
hearth
worn and black,
but strong enough
to endure
many more winters.
Oh love,
our fire,
will not go out
anytime soon

I did not make these words,
I only choose where to put them.
I put all these here for you.

I. The honey-bees are a dying breed,
II.** I'm sleeping on an air mattress instead of in your arms,
(these are not specific arms, these are general arms)
(or, you know, on a real bed, which would also suffice)
III. I spent three months obsessing over the concept of someone,
only to find in practice we had nothing in common
and nothing to talk about (to really talk about)
(12 hours in a car with someone and by the end you're either madly in love with them or know it will never ever work out)
IV. I saw a spider on the floor of my new room a few hours ago. What if it has friends?
(What if it has family? Where are they? How do I tell them I fear them and am also their ally?)
V. I still love the boy that hates me and still hate the boy that loves me and also don't care about either of them because I'm doing me right now.
(Because when was the last time I allowed myself to be alone and heal?)
VI. You never know how strong you are until you have to be as strong as you can be.
(and I am strong.)

I want you to hurt, the same way I did,
I want someone who means everything to you,
to destroy everything you have,
burn down everything you've worked for
like you did to me.

And at the same time,

I never want you to hurt a day in your life.

This is
                                            hard.
I knew it was going
                                              to
be. But not like this.
                                               Let
myself relax? It'll all
                                               go
smoothly. I hope.
                                               Hard
to get you off my mind
long enough                           to

Be happy. I just want to
                                                 hold
you. You know your always
                                                     on
my mind. But is it good?

There is tar in my lungs,
and ***** in my blood,
and if I had some money,
I'd probably be pretty high too.
And I stopped eating,
because I liked the way the hunger felt
and I stopped sleeping,
because I only have nightmares anyways.
It hurts a lot to think about you,
so I replay every single song
that reminds me of you.
And if I had any guts,
mine would be splattered across the floor.
And if I had any brains,
mine would be be smeared on a wall.
But I'm a dumb coward,
so I'll just write a ****** poem about it instead

I need this Melancholia,
I need this
hard breath
of cold air,
freedom of
roaming hands
and
stomping feet.

I need
blankets too tight
clothing
too loose,
to help
dissolve,
discard,
and decide
who
what
I am.

There are,
pine trees
in my blood,
and
cactus thorns
on my skin.

I am bent,
and freezing.
My paint is chipping,
and I am starting
to c r a c k.
Rusty and rotting,
but not broken.

My pipes tick,
and are slow to start,
but I am still moving.

I need
broken bottles,
empty bottles,
half way through me,
then back out.

I need
cascade into darkness,
inky smears
from too much pen.

I need
high on my own supply
high on my own high,
sinking
walking
breathing.

Things have been so weird lately,
I need the chaos,
the uncertainty,
the madness.

I'm feeling around in the dark,
on my hands and knees,
picking up the pieces.
I'm blind,
but I'm putting myself back together.

I gave you everything
you said you wanted,
and more
but none of it was enough
because it was all from me
and I am not enough
for someone like you.

Of course, these things happen
You forget where the light switch is,
so you sit in the dark for a while
trying to figure out
why the room doesn't feel so bright.

People are faulty,
they crack and shatter,
like crystal glass.
Sparkling and singing until
they are collapsing on the floor
at 3 A.M
for no good reason other than
a flash of a memory,
that they thought they had forgotten.

You tasted like something I wanted to be better for,
I could feel all of the room to grow,
grow to meet your years,
and your lips so far above mine
but it would be
solo-growing
and I have always needed
a hand to hold.

I wish I could know myself the way,
my girl knows me,
and I could tell myself
what to do,
because it's easier to hear the words,
when you aren't pretending you don't feel them.

Maybe I handled this carelessly,
my hands have a tendency to shake
when I feel things deeply,
throw everything in front of me
before
properly assessing the fall.

I miss my home,
with mountains and trees,
where the smell of pine clears your thoughts
but my home is burning.
and so am I

Your memory flickered
in my head,
like a candle light.
My heart is bruised,
and my words
have tasted bitter
in my mouth.
Rolled your name
over my tongue,
tasted like tobacco.
I ached for you,
like I ached for a cigarette
but those are two addictions,
which I must quit.
I took your pictures
all down,
tried to forget the soft words,
and sweet nights.
You stained my sheets,
like you stained my heart
with sweat and kisses and words
You will stay in my bones
for as long as I live

I saw your truck today,
in the Safeway parking lot
where I was dropping off another boy
with hair like yours
who reminds me a lot of you.
I wished I was coming home to you,
I wanted to feel your arms around me
your lips to comfort mine.
I wish I hadn't hurt you,
I wish you hadn't hurt me,
I went to our creek today,
and sat in the same spot that we had
and smoked a cigarette there,
with a boy with hair like yours
who reminds me a lot of you.
And I couldn't shake the feeling
of longing for your touch.
I would be more than happy,
to wake to your face again
each and every morning
like I did
for two years
but I've really ****** things up this time
haven't I?

Puffs of powder.
There is chalkboard lines scraping the counter.
Blood stains lining my mouth.
Long legs mostly showing.
This is not even high enough to be a blouse.
I forget why im here.
Side effects, I need no vice.
My ankles are cracking
But its all worth the fair price.
Thank you for wonder bras.
And the men who need help unbuttoning there pants.
Take me away, this is not me.
I promise this is not me.
I hope this is not me,

I drank my last of you,
in my coffee this morning.
I put every memory into the cup,
and stirred it with sugar
before I swallowed it down.
It was very bittersweet,
but I need to let you go.
I can see how happy you've been,
happier than I ever made you
and I am happy for you,
even though it hurts.
So I put all of you,
into my cup,
kisses, words, memories
and drank them down
because it is time to let you go,
and move on,
I will always love you,
but it will be a different kind of love.
*Goodbye, Kolt

The tears of heaven.
That pass my window.
Without a care.
The just fall to the ground.
From great heights
Of invinity.

As the Caffine spreads through my blood.
And the music from the radio,
Continues to rattle on.
About lost love.
And the faith of humanity.

And I hum myself a sad tune.
And look past the window glass.
To the stop signs and streetlights.
That make the ***** city polished looking

And as a single tear traces my hallow cheeks.
That havn't smiled in years.
I wonder.
What this place must look like from heaven.

Words can save,
be saved
stuck in little glass jars,
keep-sake of last winters blues.

Whispered into a pillow,
swallowed after June.
Words follow like a shadow,
box them up,
dust collectors on your top shelf,
they will fall on you
when you reach for something too high.

Words are water, air, earth
drowning in I'm sorry
floating on I love you
buried by goodbye.

Words on post cards
spoke here
kissed onto pages
stamped
it never took a step
lost in translation

Words will keep you safe,
tuck you in at night
kiss you on the forehead
you're all alone.

Words are falling
rain,
rivers,
I am swimming
in the way you told me
how my skin felt

words save,
put your seat belt on
can be saved
I love you from here to here
Little glass jars
I don't want to die any more
Last winters blues
*You've started smiling again

I can smell
                     Your skin.
                                          On
                                                     My Skin.
Your
                               Breath,
                        Was
  On
             My
                       Cheek
Only
            A
Matter     of
                 H o u r s
                               Ago.

So           does     feel        F  o  r   e    v   e        r ?
     Why            it        like

I will admit,
  I do not know,
    The first thing,
       About love,
      Or realtionships.
    But what I feel,
  When your skin
is on my skin,
or when your
   breath is on my
     Cheek, it's like
        There is nothing
           Else going on,
            Only you, only
           Us, time isn't an
          Issue, and all I
        Can feel, is you.

So if that is not, L o v e,
Then maybe it's H e a v e n ?

Whatever   IT       is,
                                  I like it.
I am living, in a dream, and it's
          R E A L.

There are unintended mazes in your words,
fire brimmed hoops that I must jump
perfectly through,
in order to keep you happy.
Every other word I say is a trigger
pulled,
and I will watch as you flinch,
and prepare your attack.
I am growing so tired,
of being sensored
and cautious.
I am so sick,
of this maze.

In the way that samwise followed,
to the tower of cerith ungol
knowing that darkness awaited him
because of the love in his heart
I found my way
through a lighter journey
and a different kind of darkness,
And the way that merry decorated himself in heavy armor
to fight and defend those he loved
despite his size and lack of experience,
I found the strength to stand up,
for a less important cause,
for those that I loved as well.
I can find wisdom when I think to gandalfs struggle of truth,
and things that are worth sacrificing to find it
And when I am sad or scared,
I soothe my heart with thoughts of the peaceful shire
with it's shallow rivers and grassy hills
I love this place I have never seen.
Pieces of my heart were left between the pages of a dusty hardback trilogy,
I have always belonged to middle earth

I love you.
I loved you when we were kids chasing each other around the ranch.
I loved you when I had my first kiss and called you on the bus to tell you about it.
I loved you when we were learning how to do make-up together (you were always better than me).
I loved you with skinned knees and bad eyeliner
and I love you now.

Your mom died yesterday.
I love her and I love you and I have considered you family since we were 8 years old, making gingerbread houses in your old kitchen.

And we have been friends for over 10 years and I have only seen you cry a handful of times and today when we were boxing up your mothers things I didn't see you stop crying.

I love you and this hurts.
And I was at your house for almost six hours today and I don't think we said more than 20 words to each other.
Because all I could say is "I love you and this *****"
and all you could say was "I know."

And I love you, and this *****.
And I can't find any words to say to you, because the truth is that there is very little comfort in something like this. But I don't want you to know that, because I hate seeing you hurting. I don't want you to hurt and there is nothing in the world I or anyone else can do to keep you from hurting.


I love you so much, and this *****.

I will warp my soul
to conform into your
mouse trap
heart.
And I will only feel
a little
of it's
snap.
I am not the bait,
I am not the mouse
I am just a meer
window shopper,
and I am not sure how
to feel about that

For my mother,
who told me when I was 4 and didn't know better
that I was beautiful,
and when I believed her.

She told me,
"You know,
women pay hundreds of dollars
for that strawberry blonde color
that you already have."

And I looked in the mirror,
and I believed it.

When I was
12 years old,
and angry at my reflection,
for not being
thinner and fuller,
for my skin not being clearer
and my hair not being longer.
and my mother telling me
that I was beautiful,
but I didn't believe her.

When I was 16
and crying,
because my there would never be
a gap between my thighs,
or a perfect curl
in my hair.

And my mother wiped my mascara stains
off my face
and told me
I was beautiful.

And I told her she was lying.

My mother,
who is beautiful.
Who gave me honey hair
and almond eyes.
Who gave me a garden of freckles,
and the softest skin.
How could I look at my mother,
and say I was not beautiful.

For my mother,
my grandmother,
my sister,
my cousins ,
my brother,
and everyone else in my blood,
who ever felt like they weren't beautiful,
I will tell myself that I am.

I am 19,
and I am so far from home,
that when I look in these different mirrors,
and I feel lost and scared,
and I feel like I am not beautiful,
I look to my mother,
my gorgeous mother,
who will tell me
I am beautiful.

And I finally believe her.

I am learning to love myself,
to love the skin I am in,
it is my home,
and I will not destroy
what my mother built me.

Today,
I wake up
and I look in the mirror,
and my mother doesn't even have to tell me
I am beautiful.

I'm back home,
sleeping in the bed we made love on.

We haven't spoken in a few weeks now.

I miss you.
I didn't think I would,
and I know I shouldn't.

I hate you,
I hate so much about you,
I hate all the awful things you did to me
and I hate that you hate me now too.

I walk past the places you kissed me,
I sleep in the bed where you first told me you loved me
(remember? You said it when I told you I was leaving you.)

I know about all the manipulations and the lies,
but somehow,
when I think of you,
all I can think about
is the way you would tell me how small my hands were,
you would fold them in yours and kiss all my fingers.

Our weekend rituals.
The summer weeks where your parents would go to Nevada and we would stay in your bed all day.
When we built a fort out of blankets in my room and spent the whole weekend watching netflix in our castle.
Your stupid ******* tiny car with your spiderman plush ball on the dash.
(I still have the Iron Man one you gave me in my dorm room.)

I'm drinking the same wine we used to sip,
until you stopped drinking.
So I started drinking by myself,
(You said you loved it when I got drunk because I kissed you more)


I never wanted to love you,
I knew you were bad for me,
I knew you were going to **** me up,
and believe me, you did.

But I can't stop thinking about the way you would kiss my shoulders,
the way we would sit in my car in the rain listening to the Killers after school, how we would drive down to Roseville for no other reason than you thought I deserved a nice dinner.

Sometimes, just for a drunken moment, I forget that you were literally the worst thing that ever happened to me.

(I hate that I still care about you)
(I hate that you ever ******* came into my life)

Poison,

Planting roses inside me.

Flowering out my mouth.

I choke on your decay.

Tonight at a party there was a boy who looked exactly like you,
same perfect rounded almond eyes,
same scruffy slightly curly hair,
his eyes were even green, as I recall.
While I barely even know him, I found myself trying to be in his presence more than anyone else,
If he went outside I would take note, and eventually follow,
when he came inside, the same thing.
When we would talk I would feel my heart speed up.
I do not know this boy,
I most certainly do not love this boy,
but in the moment this boy became hot summer nights in the back of a Toyota pickup,
he became initials carved into half the trails in town,
he became drunken nights of confessing everything to each other,
he became the best friend I ever had,
he became what once was my world,
and the painful wall of nostalgia hit me in the heart like a shotgun,
even though I know I'm better without you,
and even though I know things would never have worked,
I loved you more than you will ever know,
and I still do, I suppose.
And the boy tonight was a painful reminder that I will be looking for you,
in every person I'm with for a long time,
because you were great,
and together we were great,
and I wish love alone had been enough to keep us both happy,
but it wasn't,
and things fall apart,
but I wish they didn't.

If the day will come when tides don't flow,
and water can't find the time to rise,
where birds don't chirp and crow,
and mothers hear no cries.

If the day will come when the earth is still,
so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat,
when trucks stop driving, at their own will,
and the radio feels defeat.

Tectonic plates quit drifting,
TV's all click off
Bicycle speeds stop shifting,
The sick don't need to cough

What a world our world would be,
if there was no need for noise
What kind of things would there be to see?
If all the sound was destroyed.

So speak to me tomorrow,
when we stop this blessed lull,
for now we can't tell sorrow,
just pretend that we are whole,

And I'm sure I'll hear your laughter,
when the stillness finds it's end,
but write down in this calm chapter,
I hear your smile in my head

Watched and waited,
your body
ebbing and flowing.
An ocean
within me.

Tall,
and
sprouting wings.
When I closed my eyes,
I flew away.

Freckles,
I'm a sucker
connecting dots,
making constellations
out of you insecurity.

I told you,
you were a galaxy.

When you broke my heart,
left the pieces,
shattered
in a photo frame,
I picked up
the star dust
and blew it all away.

and when I shut my eyes,
I realized
I could still fly

Falling into the sink hole brimmed with pretty flowers,
to distract your naive eyes
from the aphotic subterrane
just past the things that sparkle.
We put pretty bows on vulnerability,
and call it 'love'
pretending that it will chase the monsters away,
when it really just creates them.

I fell into your calloused hands,
yearning for them to cleanse me
of my murky insecurities,
instead they scrutinized my character,
and I saw my confidence leave me
in pretty ribbons of melted gold.

I once saw the sunrise from the back of a Toyota pickup,
by a creek with cold water and sour memories,
but there was more light in my head then,
because that was long before I started to see my father in your scarred face,
and before you asphyxiated both me and my hopes in you.

I swallowed pain and brushed off distress,
through stale promises and pretty jewels.
You told me it's better to let things go,
and I'm still not sure
why I believed in you so ******* much.

You lived by the motto 'no worries'
and so you were reckless,
and stupid,
and all wrong for the girl
who wraps caution tape over every decision she ever makes.

Things fall apart,
and people fall apart,
and ideas of someone that have been built up in your head for five years
can crumble from just one sleep deprived night,
when you 'calmed me down'
the same way my father used to.

And with bitter content,
and finally no more regret,
I hope Hakuna Matata works out for you,
and I hope she never drinks as much of your poison as I did,
because stains on the heart,
do not come out from swallowing bleach.

I kissed the boy,
with the sunny smile,
and the ocean eyes.
and when he kissed me back
I could taste pity on his lips.

And when he held my hand,
and made fun of me,
because I held it wrong,
I knew you were never mine to keep,
no matter how much I wanted too.

we once saw a movie at midnight,
caressed my hand through the whole thing
and afterwards,
when you got shaky and anxious
I packed you a bowl,
and sat with you while you smoked it.
Fell asleep in your arms,
happy and warm.

you woke me up,
with sleepy kisses
and we skipped school,
and you made me breakfast
and we went on a hike,
ventured off the trail,
and I slid on some rocks
and ripped my favorite pants,
you laughed and kissed me,
and promised you would sew them.
for a moment I thought everything would work out

but you are a complicated person,
and I wish I had known the extent of that,
before we made love,
because you never had much love to give back,
and you took a lot from me,
at a point when I had very little to keep for myself,
I guess it was all just bad timing.

But I'm good now,
and you are....
good?
And I can pretend like we never touched,
and you can pretend like we never kissed,
and that's fine
because everything is good now.

I could have only breathed you until the day that I died,
but you exhaled me like a stale cigar,
not even letting me get close to your lungs,
you choked and coughed
and threw me in the trash,

I gave you all that I had and you threw me away

We are made of bones and muscle and water,
And I don't want to remember the last time that you held her,

Her bones too heavy for her weightless frame, as she mopped up your sins and took all the blame.

Us humans, we're made out of atoms and star dust,
Slowly sinking to hell through the dirt of the earths crust.
And you can walk through the flames alone if you must,
And you can dress yourself in metal and wait til you rust,
You can spit accusations until you feel you're just,

Tomorrow a train will pull into a station, and a man on an altar will make his declaration,
And tell her he loves her and tell her he cares, and then the same night take her sister downstairs,

And where is the moon when the sea needs it's tide? It stays right in sight with no place to hide. No need to assure, it will rise in time.

We are made out of passion and ******* and lies,
And we kiss our mothers before we open our thighs
And we put our heads in hands to muffle our cries


Your morning coffee tastes bitter in the afternoon,
And you always leave my bed too soon.

I'm made out of ashes and you're made out of flames
And when the dust settles, we are quite the same.
And I know what it means to be brave when I say your name.

Leather bound,
lavish and
rough.
Turned through
stiff pages
with nothing on them
but dust
and curse words,

When I finished reading
cover to cover,
I thought I might
rip open it's spine
and destroy the whole thing
so that no one else
would have to.

That *******
first edition
****** *******
closed book
swallowed me whole.

You where the light that went out,
when the wind blew too hard,

the drapes that fly up
when you open the door,

the key that fits in the lock
but won't turn

The reason to breath
the reason to yearn

the steps that lead up
to an empty wall

the undelivered card
with no return address

the baby that got
dropped on it's head

you're the embrace,
that feels ******* pointless

a walk on the beach,
that ends at a cliff

I only miss you,
when I'm full of dread

maybe I'll miss you
when I'm dead.

You gave her bouquets of branches,
because she saw more beauty
in sticks than flowers.
And today I was asked what phase
the moon would be in tonight,
to decide how discreetly
he could kayak on an overly patrolled lake,
beneath the stars.

Seven cigarettes and others,
to ease the tribulation of a
warm lonely summers night,
where unplanned contacts,
led to strange content.

A book and a boy and a pen,
and a thousand words
that had yet to be inspired,
through a faulty habit
that took paychecks and too many hours.

Darkness molded itself around my peripherals,
like the ones your grandfather watches baseball out of,
and the love that pushed through the cloudiness,
to enter my cornea with grasping motions
from pretty faces with laughter to spread but no dime to spare.
They are the reason why

In a small church parking lot
I found beauty in the delicacy of change,
and the way things can crumble
and bloom,
so very near to each other.

I know
            it's not
                       always
                                    going to
                                                  be easy.   I know
                                                                             we're both
                                                                                              going to have to
                                                                                                                          try.
I know
          it won't
                      always be
                                      perfect.
                                                  Because I'm not perfect,
                                                                                         and you're not
                                                                                                                  perfect.
                                                                                                                  But I know.
                                                                                         It's going to be
                                                  worth all that's put into it
                                    because
                  when I'm
      with you,
Everything
falls
perfectly
into
place.

In
your
arms,
there
are
no
questions,
no
worries,
no
hurt.

There is only you, and that's just perfect.

You
sprinting to meet your sideways obsessions.
Your hands thread through my insulation
I am embroidered with your insecurities.

Across your hips and rippling through
me,
I am upside down phobias.

You dug into gravel,
and rocks flew from your hands
coated with confused affection
and hit every pane of glass for miles around

Residue at the bottom of wine bottles,
and the very first sip.
I drank you, too much
skin on skin
your coldness embraced me so softly
I forgot about spring.

And just like that,
people plucked their
stems away from
my roots
and carried
on
without me.
I have struggled,
to accept this
as fact.
And even more,
to not let it
bother me.
I used to look
at my sensitivity
like a gift.
I believed
it gave me empathy
where others
would not feel it.
I do not
look at it
as a gift anymore.
I feel it as chains
wrapped so tightly
around my heart,
keeping it
tied tightly,
to places
it should no be.
I feel everything,
like a spike
within me.
I keep things in,
bottle them up.
Burdens that are not mine,
nor given to me.
Burdens that I took
without reason,
or knowledge.
I bear the weight
of the world around me.
I would kiss the feet,
of those who would
love me.
For I love
too many,
who never give me
a second thought.

I went on our old trail today,
with beautiful people,
who I care about a lot
and I saw our initials on a tree,
and I remember standing there,
watching you carve it with your key
and the way you kissed me when it was finished.
I remember a lot of things we used to do,
sometimes I think I remember them better now
than I did then.

But I smiled today,
and I rolled down a grassy hill,
and I laughed with my friends,
and a boy called me beautiful,
and I don't remember the last time someone called me that.

I'd like to think,
I am making progress,
because today was the first time,
I realized life can be good
without you.

Something beyond.
Something.
But where?
But what?
What more is there?
Secrets.
Why?
Hushed tones, always.
For what?
For Whom?
Nowhere.
And where's that, exactly?
Diminishing. Fading.
Falling.
Why?
Because, Sweetheart, that's the way life goes.

I am still learning to be sad,
without the weight of it,
sinking me like an anchor
(because it doesn't have to)

And I tell myself,
that I don't need anybody
to validate my feelings
and that I can tell myself I'm okay.

But tonight,
I am sad,
and tonight
I don't feel okay,
and I feel lonely,
and I feel unimportant,
and (worst of all) I even miss you a little bit.
And I feel all of these things starting to crush me,

And I tell myself that I am better now, and that I am okay.
And that it's okay to be sad.