This is an apology
to all the friends I made
under false pretenses
in the third grade.
I beg forgiveness for the lies that I told
because I was an ignorant nine year old
who had no friends
and wanted to be important
more than anything.
I spun lies
and fed them
to unsuspecting children
on the playground.
I told myself that they were stories.
I forgave myself
every **** time.
With every word that slid off my tongue
I imagined the countless hours I spent
alone
and deemed my stories
an acceptable alternative
to loneliness.
This is an apology
for all the lies I told
to try and convince myself
more than anyone else
that I was interesting.
And for the friends who stayed with me
who waded through an ocean
of dishonest answers
to innocent questions.
Thank you.
You found the real me under a cocoon
I wove for my fragile ego.
This is a promise
for a future devoid of lies.

Many scars ago she tied a cherry red balloon to her wrist
A free-floating, lightweight balloon.
It made her happy.
But her hand started to turn blue
Because it was strung too tightly,
So she cut it from her wrist and watched it go.
When she was thirteen,
She gripped a magazine tightly between two cherry red nails
As if it were the Bible
To the world she got ****** in to.
"Will I be beautiful?"
She asked artfully synthetic faces
Painted on a canvas of bright and glossy paper
"Yes" they would say with cherry red lips
Teeth clenched and plastered smiles
"Will I be gorgeous? Will I be wanted?"
"Will I be pretty?"
She asked her mother
With a thirsty tongue
"No" her mother said
"You will not be defined by two syllables
And one word"
"Don't you see the balloon you have tied around your own neck?
It is strung around your heart.
It seems beautiful now
But it closes tighter each day."
Even as she heard this, it was with crafted ears
Her mother searched for personality in her eyes
But they too were emblazed with the cherry red
Her blindness made her unaware of the blue
That started in her fingertips and ended in her toes

When you are angry
do not slit your wrists
Slit something that deserves it
like rotten pumpkins
tomatoes that refuse to turn red
burnt toast
ungrateful pieces of blank paper
clay embodiments of your enemies.

When you are happy
bottle it up.
Spread your love
but don't spread yourself too thin.
Save some for yourself
for when you feel like
a pile of petrified dog **** on a sidewalk.
And smile
because you're beautiful.

When you feel empty
scream
cry
punch
run
put out everything you've got.
Listen to music that's full of passion
splatter canvasses with color
scream words that
would make your parents angry
and sailors proud.
Make yourself feel alive.

When you feel sad
read a happy book
listen to happy music
watch a happy movie.
Keep moving forward
because you're mistakes are arbitrary
and anyone who hurt you
is a pile of petrified dog **** on a sidewalk
and you are walking away.

When you feel anxious
control your breathing.
lie down
close your eyes
listen to calming noises
wash your hands in warm water
with soap that smells just right
until you feel better.
Please feel better.

When you feel in love
let them know.
Waste no time trying to be chased
trying to be coy.
Tell them you love them
because life is too **** short
to have regrets.

When you feel
rejoyce.
because
the world is more beautiful
when it is tainted
with your feelings.

She is a creature of habit.
When she folds things the edges must be perpendicular.
She brushes her teeth twice every day at the same time.
She gets stuck on things
Like forgotten chores, particle physics, and boys that are two years older.
She can't sleep
if she breaks her routine
or does things out of order.
She loves notebooks
because she loves to designate things,
not because she likes to fill them.
She loves math for the symmetry
and hates it when she doesn't understand.
She is a perfectionist.
She beats herself up when she isn't the best.
She loves corners
and lines
and the symmetry of the universe
She loves books
because they are more perfect than real life.
She loves him
because they are creatures
of the same habits.