This is not the story of the sun and moon. I am selfish and afraid of getting hurt. I will trace your veins and swim in the galaxies of your heart, but will never be able to stay with you.
2. My head is always preoccupied with the thought “Will I still get into Heaven if I **** myself?” I neglect to believe in Heaven, or Hell. Yet, I’m always wondering if a special pardon will be made.
3. I will leave you. Either because of death, or self-loathing; you will be left.
4. I become too infatuated with the fictional characters that live inside my books. I will finish a book, then curl into a ball and cry; a piece of me now torn and lost forever.
5. I will want to do nothing more than lay in bed with you and listen to my old records. To explore your mind, to explore your body. I will want all of you.
6. I will love you too deeply. The love would be like drowning in a black body of water. It will be heart-stopping. Crushing. More passionate than a fire set to burn down an entire village.
7. My mental illness will scare you away. You must be able to hold me while I am breaking. You must be able to control me while I’m angry. You must be able to stop me from jumping off of that balcony right above you, and I don’t think you can do that.
8. You must be prepared to spend days at a time in my bed, in the most innocent of ways. You must be able to just be with me. No talking, just being.
9. I oh, so desperately want to please you. You will get too attached.
10. Lastly, I am a broken individual. You can’t fix me. I need you to help me. I need you to be there for me. When I’m sobbing, I need you. When I think of my sister, I need you. When I get kicked out, I need you. I need you. I need you always.
                                And you simply can’t handle it.

Favorite excuse: I'm tired.
Works like a charm.  
Everytime.
Ninetypercentofthetime.

I am tired from lack of sleep
I am tired of being soft-spoken, shy, unsure, standoffish, rude, ******,
I am tired of people talking behind my back
I'm tired of talking behind their backs
I'm tired of being speechless; not knowing what to say,
                                                                                how to say it...
                                                                                       when to say it.
I'm tired of talking to myself
[I like to think I'd love some company]
I'm tired of beating my brains out.
Tired of trying to spend time with people who don't want to spend time with me.
Tired of trying to find new friends [how many people live in the world? why am I alone?]
Tired of fake and fumbled attempts at fostering flailing and failing friendships.
I'm tired of being in a room full of people who see me but don't really see me;
who know me, but only a little.  Hardly.
Who either hate or love what I am now
Who wish I'd go back to the precious, less-scary, much-more-approachable girl that I used to be.

The baby that they ooh'ed and ahh'ed and cuddled into this mush.
A mush that they could mold into anything
they wanted.
They pulled
my arms and stretched my legs.
They smoothed
and straightened "Ooh, yeah, that looks good," they'd murmur under hot, concentrated breath.
But after all, I was only a mush.
Not a tangible and workable [fixable] medium.
Not sugar, not spice, not everything nice; certainly NOT what little girls are made of.

please don't ever be offended
if i can't spit it all out on the table in front of you
it hurts to keep it inside as much as it does to throw it away
i'll never be alright
i'm sitting here now vulnerable in public as my hands frantically
spend time trying to find the words because my brain
just shut down
i don't want to move but the world feels so hostile
i know i know i know no one wants to do anything to me
but i want to know they want me dead
because that's what i wanted to be in the first place