you can't compare the sun to the moon, kind of like I can't compare him to you.

I'm home alone
my thoughts are starting to take over
the more I think the slower I breathe
I thought I fell in love again, but I was wrong and now I'm stuck with somebody I can't stand kissing because he isn't you
you ended it 6 months ago, why are you still in my head?
I'm no longer sane
I wish I could love him like I loved you
I don't think I'll ever love again
my life is falling apart
everything is going wrong
my mom kicked me out and I'm not even concerned
because
all I can think about is you
and how it was
and what could've been
but it won't be
because
you don't care
and you never did
you told me you loved me and left 2 weeks later, you don't do that to somebody you love
do you know how bad you messed me up?
all I think about is how much I hate myself for letting you leave
I could've stopped you
but I was so stubborn
I thought you were gonna come back,
you always did
but boy was I wrong
I think I'll miss you forever
but then again
they say time heals all wounds,
so how much longer do I have to wait?

today I took 8 shots and i called you

I just wanted to hear your voice

but then I realized I was drunk and stupid so I hungup before you answered

you called me back twice and i was way too terrified to answer

so you texted me asking "who is this?"

and I think the blood in my veins stopped just as fast as the air in my lungs did

I guess I had hope you called back because you actually wanted to talk to me

after 3 text messages you went on ignoring me and you ended up all over my twitter tl looking for another bootycall

it took every muscle, feeling, and bone in my body to keep the tears from streaming out of my eyes and down my cheeks

I think I'm gonna miss you forever

It's been 5 and a half months why are you still in my head?

you're taking over my thoughts
kind of like you took over my heart

and I don't think you're giving them back

Dear Talia,

I don't want to be a tortured artist.
I don't want to be depressed and I don't want to be anxious.
Competitive sadness and disorders treated like accessories disgust me.

The world glamorizes mental illness, and I don't understand why. There is nothing romantic about being mentally ill just like how there's nothing glamorous about a broken wrist or a torn medial collateral ligament. There's nothing romantic about constantly being afraid that the world will fold in itself and **** you with it. There's nothing romantic about feeling like you could break down and cry at any moment.

This is the first piece I've written while being medicated.

I want it to be Christmas already.

The world dreams itself a halo, but can only attain horns. The halo is an illusion and the horns are an idea.

I'm due to take another Lorazepam. Would I look cool to the kids who idolize dysfunction and misinterpret pain as style, if I were to take one of these, with water and a distant glance, in front of them? Geez, to have their approval would to have everything and nothing at all.

I'm not sure why I've written as much about this as I have.

You.

It is 2:48 am and all I can think about, in this moment, is you.

I can't wait to spend Christmas with you. I can't wait to wear bad Christmas sweaters, and be the couple everyone hates, as we sing Christmas carols and spread holiday cheer.

I wrote this poem a few minutes ago. Sometime around 2:30 am. I'm not sure. I'm exhausted:

I sat on the edge of my bed, and on the edge of my life,
medicated to the point of pointlessness. Soft.
It was the nineteenth, not the twentieth,
and I wished I saw the fireworks with her fifteen days earlier.

My gasps tore the shingles off of the house.
And they hung suspended above the hole in the roof.
And God stared down into my room, as the shingles swirled skyward.
"I see you," I said, "but I don't believe in you."

I left home and ran until I was a dream that had passed itself.


I hope that was okay.

I love you.


Yours,

Joshua Haines