I was about five years old when you came into my life.
I still remember the night you drove home with us and I was too scared to fall asleep in the car because I didn't want you to hear me snoring.

My mom was a statue fanatic, all over our house were statues she bought from the different countries she would visit - I was terrified of them. I remember the way you would carry me to bed at night and you would take me around the whole house to say goodnight to each statue in our house, they didn't seem that scary when I was in your arms.

I still remember the way you would walk me to preschool, you didn't mind that the 15 minute walk would take us over an hour, you didn't mind that I would want to stop and look at every single flower, every single bird, that I would want to know about every single type of tree. You held my hand and patiently told me all you knew.

I still remember the way it felt to finally have something constant in my life. Having a mother who is always travelling is difficult, not living with my dad was difficult, out of everything that was going on in my life, out of everyone who was always leaving me you continued to stay.

I still remember you being there for my first date, my mom was travelling but you were there. I was so nervous. I have super curly hair and I wanted to make it straight like the pretty girls in the magazine, I thought I knew what I was doing but I tangled my hair and a huge brush got caught in it. The only option was to cut it out - oh how I cried, it was my first date and I would arrive bald. But you held my hand, cut my hair and made me feel pretty regardless of my now uneven curls.

I still remember when my first boyfriend broke up with me, naturally my mother wasn't there and so the person who watched me cry was you.
And then my second boyfriend broke up with me, and you were the one who came running into my room and gave me advice. You were the one who I cried to.

I loved you so much that I would choose my mother over you.
I loved you so much that I wanted you on my one hand, and my dad on the other hand, walking me down the isle at my wedding.
I loved you so much and then you broke me.

I won't go into the details for both your sake and mine - but it kills me to know that you do not see this.
It kills me to know that you don't even know who I am anymore.
It kills me to know that whatever I say or do you cannot see the damage that has been caused.
It kills me to know that you probably do not even care.
It kills me to know that you blame me for my mothers absence.
You blame me for the love that you two no longer share.
You blame me for the way in which my mother was forced to work like a dog in order to support our entire family.
It kills me.

At the end of the day I can't shed anymore tears over this.
I can't tell you how much I hurt.
I can't describe the pain it feels to have a parent no longer want to be a part of your life for no particular reason other than ego.

Bubblegum flavored tequila and bubblegum flavored kisses.
Drink up. Drink more.
My friend and I sat giggling on the bed across from two wolves, their fangs hidden behind blue lipped smiles.
Have another sip, the bottle is nearly empty.

My friend leaves me, and the wolf makes a gesture to his friend to follow.

I am left alone.

Blue lips kissing blue lips,
blue on my neck,
blue on my stomach,

Take these off he says,
it will be more comfortable he says.

The room is spinning and all I can see is an empty bottle of blue bubblegum flavored tequila on the floor,
And blue bite marks down my legs,
And I'm struggling to fight off his hands as my ******* are torn off,
And I am wearing a blue bra that's wires are piercing into my chest,
And inside my chest I can feel my heart pounding,
And my ribs are not protecting the pain in my heart,

I can hear my friend outside the door,
she's on the phone to a boy,
I am calling out to her but she cant hear because his paw is muffling my scream.

Just a little bit he says,
I force a blue lipped bubblegum smile and shake my head.
Do not ******* this wolf.

I manage to kick him off but I cant find my clothes.

The next morning I wake up with a bubblegum flavored tequila hang over, and blue bruises.

"Its okay though, it could have been worse."

Magic exists all around us.

2. When you laugh your nose crinkles up so perfectly that your freckles dance like little dandelions in the wind. Know that you are special.

3. One day you will find yourself. For now you are allowed to be lost, you are allowed to be confused and you are allowed to be scared. We all are.

4. You have experienced pain and you are still here. I am so proud of you. Do not disregard yourself you beautiful warrior.

5. You have stardust in your veins, you are a living, breathing, walking extraction of the universe. There are galaxies inside your head, moons in your eyes and the ocean in your heart.

6. You are enough.

I wish you knew how empty I feel in your arms.

I wish you knew that when I whispered the words "I miss you" I meant you.

I wish you knew what it felt like to turn from fire to ash so quickly.

I wish you knew that you did this to me.

I stood there and watched him kiss her. And all I wanted to do was rip out her bleeding heart and wedge it between my hands, squeezing it so that in some way his pain would heal my pain.

I once had a friend who woke up in the morning next to her ex-boyfriend and an empty ****** rapper on the floor,
Her ex-boyfriend turned over to her and whispered through dagger like teeth,
"You're on the pill right?"
I once had a friend who did not remember what happened,
A friend who would drink till her pain would go away and black out on the bathroom floor while I would stick my finger down her throat just so that she could feel alive again,
I once had a friend who woke up in the morning next to her ex-boyfriend and an empty ****** rapper on the floor,
Her ex-boyfriend turned over to her and whispered through dagger like teeth,
"The ****** might have broke"
I once had a friend who would drink until she could not see, who would drink until the darkness in her heart would match the darkness of the room,
I once had a friend who was blamed for this,
I had a friend who was told that she should learn her lesson,
That she should take control of her life,
That she shouldn't drink so much,
That she should realize her mistakes,
And in the same breath no one said anything to him,
No one told him that he should not have touched the unconscious girl,
That he should not have touched the girl who was too drunk to say "no,"
I once knew a girl who was blamed and isolated for not knowing what happened while the boy got away as if he did nothing wrong.

He told me that in order to stop hurting him I would have to stop breathing.
Little did he know I had stopped. A long time ago.
And kissing him was like kissing the sun.
His mouth was the only ash I would let enter my lungs.
I hate the fact that I am drowning on land.

There is this moment in the morning, this short, sweet period of time where you haven’t yet woken up but aren’t really asleep. Where your memories have not come crashing down on you like a thunderstorm yet and you can fool yourself for a few seconds.
It is at this time where I forget that you no longer love me.
It is at this time where my heart feels safe.
It is at this time where in my mind I am still your sky and you are still my stars.
I want to live in that time.
I remember once, before everything got so messed up, I looked into your eyes and thought “****, you have never loved a hurricane before. I am going to break your heart.”
You broke mine.
I overestimated myself and underestimated you.
You are the hurricane, the Milky Way that is scattered across your pale silky skin shines brighter than I ever could.
And although I always refer to myself as fire I have forgotten what it feels like to be burnt to the ground.

This is for the people who are alone in a room full of people. For the misfits and socially awkward chipmunks. For the ones who feel empty. This is for you because it gets better. One day you will find your people. Chin up little flower.

2. This is for the girls with curly hair. This is for those of you who are too tiny to reach the top shelf or are too tall to blend in. For the gangly arms, the bruised knees. For freckled faces and crooked teeth. For the girls who hate their body. For the girls who love their body. This is for those of you who society states are not beautiful because you are not the norm. This is for the wallflowers.            

3. This is for the 3 AM romantics. For the alcoholics and the poets. For the ones who cry alone. For the people who have passion burning their soul but were not born with the ability to express it.  This is for the actors and   dancers. For the people who have music between their rib cage.          
  
4. This is for those of you who drink black coffee even though you don't like the taste. This is for red lipstick. This is for your out dated cell phone, and your NASA computer. This is for your crocs. This is for the mimers, the clowns, the people who are too scared to love themselves. Your chameleon soul is inspiring.            

5. This is for you, the reader. This is to tell you that you are not alone.

***** feet, happy heart,
Rolling on the grass, kissing under the stars,
Your hands on my body make me feel like this is what living is supposed to be,
I've waited all my life to be touched the way you touch me,
To be held,
To be cared for,
To be told I'm beautiful,
I've waited all my life to have someone who sees me as a person, as an individual with thoughts and knowledge rather than just a body,
I've waited all my life to be seen.

I wish I had a poetic way of saying that I'm really sad,

I could say that the grass inside of me is dying,

I could say that flowers no longer grow out the corners of my mouth,

I could say that my laugh no longer sounds like wind chimes in the spring,

I could even say that never in my life have I made a bad cup of tea yet this morning my tea tasted like acid.

The funny thing about sadness is that you forget what it feels like so quickly when it's gone but when it comes back it feels like it never left,

This sadness feels like it's been there all along and it's been just waiting for a crack in my bones so that it could seep it's way inside of me again.

You see sadness and I always seem to follow each other everywhere. It's as if we have some really sick and unhealthy relationship with one another,

Whenever I smile I can feel sadness mocking me,

And as much as I want to end this relationship between sadness and I, I often feel as though neither of us could survive without the other.

Writing poetry at 3 AM because the drugs haven't worn off and neither have you.

My favourite time to make love to you is late afternoon. Just after the first rain has come and the air is still crisp and each leaf is stained with tear drops.
I love the contrast between the fresh air squeezing itself through every crack in the windows, forcing the hairs on my arm to rise while your warm hand brushes past my goose bumps making sparks of electricity and fire pulse through my veins.
I love feeling your breath and the chilled breeze taking turns to heat up and cool down my naked body.
I love that the sun has not yet set and that time is clearly linear and you are all mine.
You are all mine.

We got high in your dark room,
It was lit up by candles that illuminated the shadows flickering off your skin like fallen leaves.
Here in the dark you looked like a volcano. So powerful.
Why are you afraid?
Shadows flickered down your walls like the petals that lay in my hair. The weeds of my past fill my veins like ivy, strangling me with every breath.
Breathe.

Hey you,  
Yes, you.
Don't do that to yourself.
Don't allow someone to treat you like that.
This is your life.
Don't let other people burn you to the ground.

Hey you,
Yes, you.
You put the ******* stars in the sky.
Your are gold.
You are art.
Stop letting people make you feel small.

You are fascinating, don't surround yourself with people who are not curious about you.

I believe that you are a miracle and its about time you started to believe it too.

You can't complain about burnt hands when your hands are on the stove.

Multiple Sclerosis is the name that the doctors told me.
I was seventeen years old.
"Unfortunately you have Multiple Sclerosis"
As if it didn't need explaining. As if I was just supposed to know what it meant.
"It's not really life threatening"
But I will have it for the rest of my life?
"We should start medication immediately. Injections are three times a week and oral medication is twice a day everyday"
For the rest of my life?
"The sooner we start the better. We don't want your condition to worsen"

My condition? Can you hear me? What's happening? What's going on?

I felt invisible. Burdened by a disease that cannot be seen.
Because my body sees itself as the enemy.
I am the enemy.
They tell you that you are you are in this world alone and that all you should lean on is yourself tell me what happens when it is yourself fighting the self. When my battle is coming from within.
When it is my body that is failing me.

And I am faced with doctors who call my sclerosis a condition, who tell me it's not serious, who rush me out the door to welcome their next patient and they tell me to be patient when I am asking questions as if I am not patiently waiting for my body to implode against itself because my self is fighting a war everyday and I am tired.

Mommy, you told me I was made from stardust, you told me that inside of me their are little soldiers who ensure that my body is working
but mommy you forgot to tell me that they are fighting me
You forgot to tell me that when I stand up for too long pins and needles will claim my body and force me to sit
You forgot to tell me that sometimes I will wake up and I will feel normal, life will give me a taste of what it feels like to be free.

And mommy I forgot to tell you that today I didn't even feel like getting out of bed.
I forgot to tell you that it wasn't my shoe that slipped on the stairs that made me fall, it was my legs going numb

You need to be with someone who wants the best for you.

You need to be with someone who makes you a better person, even if it hurts them.

If travelling across the country is what your partner needs to do then you have to let them do it.

If screaming to the world is what your partner needs to do then you need to let them do it.

If staying awake till 5 AM to paint the sunrise is what your partner needs to do then you need to let them do it.

And I am not saying that you need to sacrifice your own happiness for that of your partner, I am saying that in letting them have the freedom to be the person that they want to be you will ultimately have the freedom to be the person that you want to be.

If both people have the freedom to be who they desire then together you will find that freedom.

There is nothing worse than trying to train a wild thing,
Trying to shape an already dried sculpture,
Trying to fix something that is already broken,
Trying to fit a square into a triangle,

Accept that your partner is wild,
That they are a dried sculpture,
That they are broken,
That they are a triangle and you are a square,

And in accepting your differences you will have the freedom to love these differences and express yourself in whatever way you need to.

The worst thing you can do for someone is to keep them in the same place,
To tell them that they cannot fly,
That they cannot jump,
That they cannot run,
That they cannot scream.

The worst thing you can do for someone is to try and mold them to the way that you see them,
To try and shape them,
To change them,

To make a square out of a triangle.

I have an urge for the insane, for the thrill of living. I cannot stand to sit and wonder about the “what ifs” or the “if only”.  I have an impulse to leave, to keep driving, to throw my map out the window and trace the atlas engraved on my heart. I have an urge to run, to leave the menial behind and escape from comfort and security. Take me far away from the matchbox houses with the people inside who live a lie. I want to meet the ones who are not afraid to be mad. I want to dance with strangers in cluttered living rooms while listening to songs that make me happy to be alive. I am desperate for an altered perspective and to have conversations with travellers whose only comfort is the open road. Let me dance through rings of fire with fairies who play drums in circles, let me get lost in the song of my ancestors. I do not care about trivial matters, I care about what you ache for, the thoughts that consume you to your core and keep you up night after night. Show me your scars. I have a desire to drink lemonade in the desert and paint moons on my lovers back, the desire to live fearlessly.  I want messy love, sweaty love, broken love, to become my own, to be gorgeously human.

They tell you that he loves you in his own way,

But what about your way?

You deserve to be loved your way.

When you left,
I had to unlearn the way your palms would tickle my spine, the way your gentle kisses felt upon my neck.

I had to unlearn your voice and the way you used to tell me you loved me.
I had to unlearn your green eyes, your freckles, the sound of your laugh.

And oh god, how badly I wanted to hold on.

Its funny how I could so easily unlearn the hurt you caused me, yet I can't seem to shake the memory of your love away.

If there is anything that I have learnt it's that the hardest thing I will ever have to learn is how to unlearn you

I chased you the way birds chase summer.

Thinking about you with another girl makes me physically sick

I can see it so vividly

I imagine your lips on her, and wonder if they kissed her collar bones the way they kissed mine

I imagine your hands on the small of her back, and wonder if they would trace up and down her spine the same way they would to me

I imagine you whispering in her ears pierced the way you would to me, telling me how beautiful I am

Thinking about you with another girl makes me so physically sick that I forget what to do with my hands, with my legs, with my soul, I lose myself.

I lose myself in how simply wonderful you are.
In the way your skin tastes like sea salt and your eyes resemble forests
In the way your smile makes my knees weak
I lose myself thinking about you with anyone else because every bit of me hates that image.

I hate that my memory of you is getting tarnished knowing the reality.

I love myself.

I love myself and it is because I have hated myself.

I love myself and it because I used to look in the mirror and I would not be able to recognize my own reflection.

I would lie in bed at night and romanticize a world that did not include me in it.

I would go to school everyday and feel like a stranger in my own body.
An outsider looking in.

I love myself because I am so sick and tired of hating myself.
I am so sick and tired of not nurturing the beauty that is my existence.

The beauty that is your existence does not deserve to be hated.  

Repeat that over and over again until your first love becomes yourself.
Your greatest love needs to be yourself.
You need to be yours and yours alone before you allow anyone to enter the light that is you.

I long for a new lover.

I long for someone to look at me and see the sky,
I long for someone who will stare up at the stars with me, and I will look at them and see their eyes shining brighter than those distant suns.

I long for someone to pick dandelions for me, to tell me that my smile could make flowers grow, to kiss my heart and tell me that there is a universe residing in the emptiness within me.
To tell me that I am whole,
To love me without question,
To realise that I fall in love like fire but I break like ice.

I long for someone to see me.
And I mean truly see me,
to look beyond the person that I let everyone see.
To look deep within me,
To know that I am fierce, that I am a warrior,
but that I am also a daisy, I am delicate, that there is darkness within me as much as there is sunshine.

I long for someone to hold me, I long for my fingers to fit between a lovers hand like a puzzle piece.

I long to be loved.

I think the truth is that I never wanted something easy to begin with.

I've always wanted to dance with the devil and squeeze cactuses between my fingers because oh god how beautiful pain makes me feel.
I wanted broken glass beneath my feet and volcanoes erupting in my heart every time your fingers traced my bleeding lips.
If I am being completely honest, I loved watching you walk out the door just so that sparks of adrenaline would eat me alive while I ran after you,
barefoot on the scorching tar because **** -
your love was so worth it.

I am difficult to love - that I know. I am both fire and ice. I am a breathing paradox of everything you want and everything you hate.
I am a tornado of light in an ocean of darkness - together we are ******* invincible.

Anyone who comes after will sink into the ashes I leave behind me wherever I go.
I hope you know that our souls chose each other because everyone else will drown in our depth.
Our love was constructed by the earth even though our love too is a paradox.
Our love is gentle and kind  but at the same time it is vicious and thirsty - always wanting more.
I always want more.

You,


I need you to come back and rock me to sleep so that the demons don’t show up tonight. I need you to pretend that you still love me.

With you I had endless dreams of falling through the rabbit hole, the psychedelic rays of the earth would tickle my feet and I would lean in closer to you, knowing that I was safe. Without you the red queen swallows me whole and the rabbit runs away leaving me in a darkness so cold and empty, just like the mug of coffee that still sits on your bedside table.

I need you to come back and rock me to sleep while you stargaze upon the constellation of freckles scattered across my spine. Allow my mind to connect with yours so that I can get drunk off the colours of the sky and giggle at the sound of my own breath.

I need you to come back and rock me to sleep because I cannot close my eyes without seeing flashbacks of you in my memories. It plays over and over like a record stuck on repeat. Your song feels like daggers in my ears. My stomach aches because without you the butterflies are replaced with wasps stinging me as each second passes.

I need you to come back and rock me to sleep while you whisper in my ear the excuses as to why you left me in the first place. I need you to hold me so close that I am overwhelmed with the need to question my existence. I need you to rip apart my chest and force your way back into my bleeding heart, even though we both know you never left to begin with.

I need you to come back and rock me to sleep.




Me.

Breaking is always made to appear a lot more graceful in novels, poetry and films.

My breaking looks like a dark room in midday,
***** dishes which look too familiar to my insides.
My breaking looks monotonous,
Rehearsed,
Practiced over and over again too many times,
A play I no longer want a part in,
A lead I cannot escape.

Everyday gets easier.

Everyday is a day closer to you fading from my memory.
I am getting better, I am seeing sunlight in my eyes again.
I am feeling flowers bloom between the empty spaces you left.
I am starting to recognise my reflection in the sky.
Everyday is a step closer to me being me.

Although the light has returned to my eyes and I can now smell earl grey tea and listen to red hot chilli peppers without tears stinging my eyes you have this sick way of luring me in again.

You are so good at luring me into your ocean of fake smiles and "I miss you's" your "I still love you's" hit me harder than the first time I fell for you so why do you keep drowning me without even looking back to see that I am not breathing.
I hate the way you come strolling back into my life the second my long lost happiness returns.
I hate the way that I let you.

I hate that I still love you.

The most ****** up thing of all is that I let you back in.

I let you back in knowing about your snake like nature. You lie so well through a closed mouth, spit dripping down your jaw like poison.
The poison I once let into my mouth. The poison I let enter my fire.
I looked at you like magic and you looked back at me with your cold, empty eyes.

You turned me into this but I will not let you burn me to the ground.

I will train my heart like a dog, I will chain my heart up and eat the key.
You are sick.
Your games are sick.
The way you play with me, the way you take my heart out of my chest and eat it right in front of me, you love seeing me whimper.

I used to think that love required sacrifice, but I would like to know when sacrifice is too much?
When losing yourself in the eyes of a lover becomes more important than finding beauty in your own reflection.

When tears become the romantic equivalent to loving you.

I see your face everywhere I look and I don't know whether you are mocking me or missing me.

The tattoos on your skin show me that you do not fear commitment and I do not know whether my commitment was not worth it or not beautiful enough to be engraved upon your body.

You see, forgetting you would be easier if the tabs I put on my tongue didn't leave me feeling emptier than I did before I started flirting with darkness.

The only wild thing here is me and you leaving me only taught me that wild things are meant to walk alone.  

I see your sun kissed face in the puddles of my tears, the salt dripping down my face stinging my eyes the way the sea enters and burns every crack in my body.
I can't bare looking at the mini oceans drenching the tissues because anything to do with the sea reminds me of the way in which you rode monsters taller than skyscrapers so fearlessly yet you were too scared to love me.

You sit and watch the flames dancing up into the ink stained night
You want to be devoured by the darkness.
You want to be engulfed and dazzled by flames,
Here, now,
It is cold,
And you’re so young and scared.
I can still feel your warm breath against my body whispering beautiful lies into my ear.
I remember the way you would hold me tightly because you knew that every inch of me was breaking.
You couldn’t fix me.

When it happens his mouth is nothing like they’ve taught you to expect. Just more flesh slipping and sliding against yours. He grabs you as though all you are is just another thing he wants to conquer, he wants to take control of, and then he wants to forget. He grabs your ******* pretending it was a mistake but doesn’t let go. And before you’ve realised it happened, it’s over.

He leaves you to get dressed alone.

He drives you home and you press your body against the car door, never looking at him because you’re too ashamed. When you arrive outside your house and he leans in to kiss you. You close your eyes and try remember your grandmothers cooking or the smell of the spray your overbearing mother uses to clean the house - anything that doesn’t make you want to throw up.

You walk into your room and the mirror with butterflies and fairies on the frame mock you because you can’t even look at your own reflection.

You hold hands, pretend to watch a movie, fake a laugh at all the appropriate moments. He kisses you again, following some internal rhythm that you are uncomfortable dancing to. It feels as though you are a character in a play, every action you repeat has been rehearsed over and over again. This is nothing like they have taught you to expect. You were told that love was supposed to be easy. Pretending has become second nature to you. Your stomach turns uncontrollably as you lean your head on his cold shoulder, the day is nearly over.

In the car he drives passed the park because it’s the fastest way to your house, even though you tell him every drive that you want to go passed the lake so you can look at the ducks you used to feed when you were little. Today you do not mind that he is taking you the faster way because you don’t know how much longer you can hold your breath for before you pass out. You watch the children screaming, and how you wish you could scream. Still not looking him in the eyes you kiss him goodbye, you can feel acid in the back of your throat.

At home you wonder if you can wash the memory of him away, because toothpaste only replaced the taste of him from your bleeding mouth.

This is nothing like they’ve taught you to expect. It takes you four more boys until you get it right. Until you meet the one that doesn’t look at you like you are something to eat. He presses his hand onto the small of your back and kisses your tears. He feels like petals, like those hazy summer days when the sun is as hot as the desert sky.

And loneliness is felt so deeply when I am lying beside you.

It's okay that you miss them.

Bullet holes through your heart might have become so easy to live with,

But its not okay that you stand still while they fire their pistol.

Death is easy, peaceful. Life is harder.

I sat on the top of the highest building in town. My eyes were stained red from crying. I wondered what death would feel like, I imagined it like the ocean, the tide pulling you deeper and deeper into a dream. The wind was howling, blowing my hair in all different directions, it sounded angry, as though it was cursing the world. As I leaned my head further back I saw a thousand stars, it felt like being at the top of a mountain, I could reach my hand above my head and run my fingers through the clouds.

Death will always compare to the ocean. And I can’t help but compare everything to the ocean. I am darkness, I will always be guided by the evil impulses that envelop through my body and lead me to swallow the demons of my past. I compare you to water, you are pure and as fresh as the crisp morning sky of spring. You are everything I am not, your light attacks me trying to burn through the monsters resting in my heart.

You tried to mould me. When I look into your eyes my mind is overwhelmed by the ray of colour you can pass through my veins. The way in which you heart rhymes with the vibrations of the ocean, you connect me to the universe and when I am with you I am grounded. You allow me to forget about the way in which people would look at me and see their nightmares in my eyes.

A rain drop splattered down my cheek. Anger turning to sadness. I became conscious and realised I was thinking of you, again. I want to tell you that the daisies you bought me the day we ran through the park at sunrise are dying. I want to tell you that I need to move with the wind and dance with fire. I want to tell you that I am running away again. It was never you. I was always them. I tried to stay but now I am dizzy.
It’s me.

If only I could understand the reason for my crying. If only I could stop this fear of dreaming that I am dying.
I close my eyes and jump.
I fly now.

I hate being sad.

I hate that everything I do it wrong.

I hate that there are times where I'm not good enough.

I hate that I'm not a butterfly right now.

I hate that we are destroying each other.

I hate that these words will get me in trouble.

I hate that you will be mad at me.

I hate, I hate, I hate.

I hate apologizing.

I am so angry.

I am so in love.

I am so not me.

But you're the only person that I'm me with.

How can I be me with you but no one when I'm alone.

How can something you love so much drive you this insane.

And this time around things feel different,

I always wanted a partner who would look at me as though I had flowers growing out my roots, intertwined with my wild hair,

I always wanted a partner who would hold me like I was their glue, as though I was the only thing holding them together,

I always wanted a partner who wanted to explore me, who would never feel as  though they had reached the end of me, who always felt as though I was more - because I've always wanted to be so much more,

And I always wanted a partner who would be besotted with me, who would adore me, who would stare at my naked body every time I got undressed and wonder how the hell the universe came up with me,

I always wanted a partner who would love me, I want to be loved.

I always wanted a partner like you.
But then I do what I always do.
I shut my lover out.
I force them to hate me.
I've been yearning for you for so long that I just continue to yearn, to want, to need...
Something more perhaps?

But how can I have more when I have a lover who looks at me like I am the ******* earth, who looks at me as I though I am the reason for summer.

I always wanted a partner like you.
But then I do what I always do.
I shut my lover out.
I force them to hate me.
And lover, don't you see?
Don't you see that this is not me?
That I am pushing you away because I love you.
I am pushing you away because this is me.

When you touch me I want it to burn like fire through my heart.
When you leave me I want to cry blood.
I just want to feel again.
When I am with you I want society to fade away.
I want you to make me lie on your shower floor, cold water pouring onto our naked bodies.
Whisper that humanity is a lie.
Life is a lie.
The moon is a lie.
Everything I know and have ever felt is a lie.
Everything except us.
Except you.
Except this moment we have now.
Except the electricity that passes through your finger tips as you tell me to close my eyes and feel ice on my face.
Suffocate my wandering mind and leave me lying on the cold brick road. Begging for humanity to let me back in.
Begging for you to let me back in.
Begging for sanity.

I dare you to leave.
The darkness is what I live for.
I am fire.
I have no home.  All I have ever wanted to do was jump.
But there you are.
Stopping me. Pulling me back.
I live for the night and the demons which lurk in every corner of your mind.
You are water, you are pure.
But not even your summer can melt the ice covering my heart.

I woke up at 3 AM in the bathtub filled to the brim with ice cold water. My clothes were sticking to my body like a second layer of skin and my lips were stained red. This is not the first time I have woken up in a place I don’t remember falling asleep. My life has been a series of slow motion pictures lately, I close my eyes for five minutes and before I know it three weeks have gone by. I’m losing myself and it scares me.

“Andrew, sometimes you have to break your own heart to set yourself free,” she whispered in my ear before slinging her ruck **** over her bony shoulders, leaving me at the airport surrounded by thousands of people but only wanting one. I knew this would happen, and I am not saying that because I wanted to be right. From the moment I saw her I knew that we had no future. For the past few months I have been struggling to write, just as I had been struggling to write for years before I met her, Emily was my inspiration. However as I sit here at my computer I am empowered by the fact that I can write, with or without her, I can write about her, about us.

Emily left home when she was 16 years old, for reasons I will never know. From then she was a wanderer, forever on the road. She had no compass inside her, she just kept walking... I used to sit and write in coffee shops, smoking copious amounts of cigarettes while seeking inspiration from the people who passed by. I was so ordinary, almost faking pain, I will never understand why so many people do that. We are all in love with the idea of being messed up.

“What are you doing?” she said as she put yet another cup of black coffee on the ink stained table, “I am an artist” I said without looking up. “No, you’re a cliché.” She said laughing.

Emily was the most honest person I had ever met. We spent that night together, she took me to the beach and walked across the edge of where the ocean met the sand like an acrobat balancing on her tippy toes. The only way I can describe her is daylight, whether that is a compliment or not I let her decide. Emily was true, her reality was no different from my reality only she didn’t hide from her pain – her true pain, not the fantasy of being messed up. However real she was, I couldn’t help but believe that I made her up. She was a drifter, and I was in love with her.

Break my heart because my pain draws me closer to life.
Give me broken love.  I want scars on my heart, I want to ******* salty tears dripping down my face like blood at 5 in the morning while I listen to the mixed tape you made me on repeat.      
Give me messy love. The kind where we eat breakfast for dinner, and ride bicycles naked in the snow. You will read books about travellers and I will lie on the floor making paper aeroplanes because being with you is enough.                                                          ­          
Make me want to **** myself so that I am able to feel alive again.

One day my words won't be for you any more.
One day these words are going to be for me.
These words are going to inspire,
They're going to help heal broken hearts - and reader, if my words cannot heal your broken heart then allow yourself to seek comfort in the fact that you can use your pen to bleed.
Ink and paper will harvest your tears and make art out of your wounds.
You have love to give as vast as the ocean,
just because you are living on the crumbs of someone's love does not mean that you will starve forever, nor does it mean that you will continue to drown.

I feel like I am drowning.
I am on land and I am drowning.

I find it ironic that the first time I had ever been sick from alcohol was with a bottle the same name as yours.
That should have been my warning sign when we first met.
Don't date boys with the same name as cheap liquor because eventually you will become that cheap drunk, passed out in a pool of your own sins, praying for him to come along and salvage you out of this misery that he put you in,
in the first place.

I haven't cried myself to sleep in a long time.
But tonight I am and all the memories of the nights I used to cry myself to sleep are coming back.
I've become so good at suppressing all my pain that I've forgotten that I'm wearing a mask.

It feels as though I will always be writing for you,
You who I am yet to meet.
I have a beautiful exterior,
A shell as hard as ice,
Being cold can be beautiful too you know.
I feel as though I have been saving up my insides for you,
I have yet to meet anyone who I let enter.

I feel as though I am waiting for you.
You who I am yet to meet,
You who I already love.
I know that I don't need to rush this,
Yet, sometimes I feel myself yearning.
I know that I will find you,
But it feels as if I am looking for you in all the wrong places.
It feels as though I am learning to be hurt, caged, and suppressed, over and over again,
As if this is all supposed to prepare me for the real thing,
Is there a real thing?

I find myself losing hope,
I find myself pining,
Aching,
Wishing,
I find myself running,
From person to person,
From lips to lips,
From hands to hands,
Eyes to eyes,
Bed sheets to bed sheets,
Swimming,
Drowning.

Sometimes I wonder where you are,
I know you will be curious about me,
You will ask me to recite my entire day for you,
You will ask me what I ate and whether I enjoyed it,
You will bring me flowers without me asking,
You will read my writing without me giving it to you,
You will make me tea,
You will write me letters.

Sometimes I wonder who you are with,
I wonder if they hold you,
If they let you be you,
If they make you feel alive.

I want you to know how much I love you,
How much I will always love you.

You should have dated a pretty girl.

You should have dated a passive girl.

A girl whose element is calmness.

A girl with hair like the sun and eyes like the ocean.

I'm a girl who is a free-falling mess.

I'm overly sensitive and then I'm icy cold.

I'm a free girl, a pose naked when I want girl, a do whatever I want girl, a I don't really give a **** girl.

I have hair the color of dirt and eyes the color of moist soil.

I'm a bad girl, a crazy girl, a breaking the rules kind of a girl.

Rock bottom felt like different things throughout my life,
When I was 13 rock bottom felt like a mouth full of *** behind a chapel,
A limbless tiny body in front of an audience slobbering my lines,
Playing two parts,
An act I have been rehearsing my whole life.

When I was 15 rock bottom felt like tearing the hand cut letters of your name off my wall,
It felt like pining after you,
It felt like wanting to be loved so badly,
It felt like having my body pressed up against a sea of people,
None of them you,
None of them caring enough to ask my name,
Looking for love on roof tops covered in cigarette butts.

When I was 17 rock bottom felt like diagnosis,
Hospital beds,
Drowning pain in bottles of *****,
Looking for protection, yet the only cradling I found was paralysis around a toilet seat,
Vomiting up the bad taste that had been sitting in my mouth for years,
It staying there once the sick was gone.

When I was 19 rock bottom felt like suppression,
It felt like not being able to look at myself in the mirror,
It felt like a face everyone loved,
But no one saw.

At 20 rock bottom feels like my body.
It feels like I’m falling and I have no way to get up.
Rock bottom feels like truth,
It feels like doctors appointments with no end,
It feels like IV drips,
And MRI’s trying to search for something to tell them the answers,
Maybe they’re searching for me?
Little do they know I’m a master of disguise,
I’ve succeeded at the art of invisibility and they will never find me,
I’m so good at hiding that I seemed to have lost her too.

Suddenly memories of the abuse start to resurface,
I used to wonder why I could never remember my childhood,
Why my childhood was so surreal,
I remember watching Alice in Wonderland,
Little Red Riding Hood,
Barney,
I seem to remember childhood movies better than I remember my childhood,
I see Alice falling down the rabbit hole,
And my sister being dragged across the kitchen,
I see Red Riding Hood watching otters collect mud,
And I feel as her claws wrap around my arms,
I see Barney singing,
And I hear the bathroom door close with them inside,
I see that Alice is late,
And I see *** on the floor,
I see that Red Riding Hood is late,
And I am lying alone in the dark, calling out for someone
I see Barney singing,
And no one is coming but I keep calling,
I see Alice has lost her way,
And I am screaming but no one can hear,
I see Red Riding Hood and think its granny,
And I am so afraid of the dark,
I see Barney singing,
And no one seems to come for the four year old girl,
I see Alice in the darkness,
I see Red Riding Hood in the darkness,
And I am in the darkness,
Barney is still singing.