Sometimes I think of selling pictures of my feet online
Then
I immediately think of the state of my feet;
The state of me.
After conforming to your dress code of black dress shoes and shattered dreams For 11 long years.
For 11 long years
I sat in rows of grey white and black
Perfectly poised in the presence of our educators
Our guardians
Our wardens.
If we deigned to relax,
Laugh,
Breathe,
They would find more to give and give and give
Until we became nothing but frayed nerves
And therapy bills
That should be addressed to our parents
And then I think
I can’t sell pictures of my feet online,
How could I correctly value them
If I don’t correctly value myself?

I'm not sure if I should complain anymore
Maybe this is my fault, I literally chose this life
Clothes on the floor, in the bathroom, overflowing everywhere
And she sleeps comfortably
4 more weeks
Lights burning until 5 am when you should probably be asleep because we both know you'll probably sleep through your 8 am, 8:15 am, 8:30 am alarms
And your classes, how many have you missed this semester?
Don't even reply
I chose this life the moment I chose to live here
But I didn't choose you
I didn't choose random civilians sleeping on our floor
Only to be alerted to their random comment on our behavior at 6 am when it's dark and the last thing a girl wants to hear in the midst of darkness is an unfamiliar male voice
4 more weeks
I did not choose your habits
The dishes have been piling up and
Is that mold on your sponge, don't answer that either
You laugh at the strangest things and maybe there shouldn't be a smile on your face while holding sharp objects
I did not choose my polar opposite in the worst possible way
We are like literal day and night and I never thought that I would hate it this much
4 more weeks
Just 4 more and then nothing but the bliss of being alone again in a safe place
My space

It's 1:00 am on Friday night after we've hung out for the second time this week
Not for the first time, I open my phone to a 150 word text explaining that my words chaffed you the wrong way and you were not pleased with me
The problem is that this time I was not feeling love for myself
Today I felt ****** and then you made me feel like a ****** person
Two different things
I feel ****** because lately my life has been on pause and I've merely been existing instead of living
I feel ****** because I no longer find the joy in simple things
I feel ****** because I'm both alone and lonely and I feel shut out by the world
It's 1:05 am on Friday night after we've hung out for the second time this week
and I've just finished reading your text for the fifth time while contemplating a response and that's when I started to feel something
I feel like a ****** person because I forgot that you have the tendency to overthink and overanalyze every word ever said to you while I have the tendency to underthink and under-analyze my thoughts
I feel like a ****** person because, at my lowest point, I opened 150-word text highlighting all the flaws in my personality
I'm happy and sad about your way of expressing yourself
Happy because of the level of comfort in our relationship that you feel the need to give me a performance review.
Sad because as I read this and know you expect change
Sad because I sit here knowing I failed you
Sad because I feel ****** 200 days out of the year and on those days, the extra effort just eludes me
Sad because I don't know if our friendship can survive on such a forced diet
And when it withers, I'll know it was me and I'm sorry for the inevitable.

My favorite thing about this
Viral sensation
Has to be the complete lack
Of continuity
Throughout countries, states
Cities.
Welcome to my little slice of
Hell
As I am fortunate enough
To get to share my Uber with
Some random stranger at
Approximately 11:47 pm
Is a shady city
Crawling with shady people
Mind you
I am just a 20 year old female
Very protective of my body
But wait, there’s more
For just half the unreasonable price of a shared ride
I can get an express car pool in which
I get to walk for 5 whole minutes
To the Denny’s parking lot
In the dead of night
Yay me.
The ride to my house, a normal
20 minute drive
Turns to 37 as we take a random exit
To pick up a random stranger
Who does not show up
But that’s fine
As it is
We renter the same highway 10 minutes later
In a futile attempt
To get me
Home before
12:30 am
That did not happen
Did you know that 24 hour Subways exist?
Me neither

there is no such thing as a good upstairs neighbor
i'm now convinced of this
it's 3:13 AM and i'm laying in bed wondering if you're doing jumping jacks?
or killing a man?
why is there so much noise?
i thought the carpets on your floor were meant to be a buffer
but i was wrong
you're steps are heavier than my heart
yet, i don't know who you are
i don't know what you look like
i don't know what you sound like
but i'm sure i could identify you by steps alone
i'd like to go to bed
and every time i'm on the brink,
i hear the loudest banging coming from above me
and then when i'm awake and alert
the noise ends and i fall into another state of false security
it's 3:16 AM
i think
my eyes are growing heavy again and i will sleep tonight

i am not an intellectual
trust me on this
i try and i try but
let's face it, i am not
an intellectual
i write this in a monday morning lecture based around my selected major in my senior year
and i am lost
i've been lost since the first day
of class in august
this class forces me
to question myself
this class forces me
to question my life
so no
i am not an intellectual
i am a heavily confused college student
dreading my graduation date
as this is the day that everyone else
will see that
i am a fraud
i am not an intellectual

I remember the first time I lost my mind

That rush, that euphoria, that emptiness that came soon after like death was on the sidelines knowing the end was coming before I even had the whole experience.

I remember that first touch every once in a while

Our fingers intertwined, soft touches with that hint of nervousness, and we exchanged them shy smiles

I remember the first kiss

Thinking I would feel fireworks was juvenile but there was something that I couldn’t place

There was a rush of something, adrenaline maybe, just this unfamiliar taste

But that could’ve been because we were standing on the edge of a precipice, a little bit too steep, waiting to see who would jump first and while you whispered not me, I went ahead and took the leap.

I remember the conversations,

You, a caring, intellectual which spurred my heart in the right direction

Me, sheltered and reeking with a vulnerability way past its expiration

We talked for hours

Heavy discussions about loves and fears and a future that was ours

I remember the first time I fell.

That rush, that euphoria, then the pain that met me at the bottom when you were supposed to catch me

It was an Alice down the rabbit hole kind of ordeal, just I only found out I was in it alone when you looked at my broken pieces from above

I suppose I owe you a thank you for reminding me why they don’t say standing but call it falling in love.

And at the end, none of our conversations fell into a category that even mattered

Apparently, my heart’s too delicate to break, like every thing else, as soon as you touched it, it shattered

You don’t have to try to be yourself, you don’t have to try to be true,
I remember when I couldn’t tell the difference between wanting to be myself and wanting to be part of you
Thinking that us together was so much stronger than us apart
I tried, really tried to be authentic
And there it was, this non-pretentious act I put on and for who exactly
My body played its role, poised, perfect, stoic
My mind was purely confused
There was robotic motion, robotic movements, robotic
The whole situation clashed with my perfectly cultivated values
The whole act started to fall apart, I couldn’t and didn’t try to hide it
I took a long hard look at myself in what I can only call a funhouse mirror
You looked at me too, a twisted version of what used to be there
And you smiled, smiled that crooked smile that hid from me your true thoughts
I didn’t know what to believe and it happened
The crack got bigger and bigger and I snapped
Like one of those huge trees slowly and gently worn by time
I guess I should consider it a blessing that I wasn't struck by lightning
I don’t even want to know how close I came to an earlier demise
But
What was it about you
What was it about me
Why didn’t I realize it’s called falling because you only realize you’re in trouble until you’re staring at the pavement 5 seconds away from splat
And that was the problem with it all
The idea that love was something worth dying for when I wasn’t sure it was something worth fighting for

i'm a swindler,
a trickster,
a not-so-great pretender.
i live my life as an imposter
among the scholars that call themselves
my colleagues,
equals.
what achievements? pure luck
what success? just timing
was my effort ever as
earnest
as it could've, should've been?

i met love in the 4th grade.
he was a transfer student and
he didn't speak much.
love had a little sister who would check
on him during lunch breaks.
love smiled when we played games
after school with our friends.
love gave the best hugs.
love left at the end of the year without a goodbye only to reenter 7 years later with the same boyish smile, carefree attitude and a confession that created a small room in my heart complete with an armchair, afghan and a small ottoman.
love lit up my world with his words, his smile and his spirit.
love took me back to a time of innocence and trust.
when love left again, he didn't tell me he was moving out.
love set fire to the room, the memories, and all the promises love made.
love gave me reason not to trust anyone for a while as love was already months into an affair with his new love.

It was fall when we fell
I've missed it
Those first few days, weeks when everything was simply perfect and
I hadn't met your friends as yet
and more importantly, you hadn't met mine.

It wasn't love or lust,
It was a fleeting moment of something I hadn't felt before
It was calm, it was bliss
It was supposed to be a love story for the ages
We were alone together in our own little world, our own little bubble.

It was winter when the bubble popped
We didn't expect it, or at least I didn't
We drifted apart quicker than a floaty in high waters
and I don't blame you, I don't blame myself
It wasn't meant to be and sometimes that's okay.

It was summer when you called
You were halfway across the world and for some reason, you were thinking about me and I smiled
We talked for the first time this year, and I started remembering
All at once it came flooding back
I've missed it, I've missed what we used to be.

Our conversations are already becoming the same thing,
You miss me but I wish you wouldn't
You say things that I wish you mean
I wish I could trust you but I'm a born skeptic
We're like two ships passing in the night with scheduled that are too hectic.

Our could've been love story was a series of long pauses and sudden beginnings and ends.
Our could've been love story ended before it could really start and maybe that's a good thing.
Our could've been love story opened the idea of this new thing and promptly shut the door on it.
Our could've been love story was just that.

I’m sorry that you were a pleasure to have in class
And that you were
Quiet
That you didn’t understand simple
Social cues and that you
We’re stunted
But that you don’t know it yet.
I’m sorry that while in college you
Had the social skills of a
High schooler
And that you probably will
Never catch up
Socially.
So you act more mature.
I’m sorry you’ve had to overcompensate
In every aspect of your life
Just so you could feel
Normal.
And most of all
I’m sorry that you
Will find out in the worst possible way
How extraordinarily average
You really are.

you don't look sick
you don't look like your entire world has been
falling apart for years
and you're only holding on by a thread.
you don't look like you cry yourself to
sleep every Sunday at 4 pm
when no one else is home.
you don't look like you've been
ignored by your friends and family
because they can't deal with someone
else's feelings and problems right now.
you don't look like you've
been in bed for four days straight,
haven't showered or brushed your teeth because
what would be the point when you have
no inclination to even leave your house.
you don't look sick.
that's the sickest thing you can say.
because i don't have a physical handicap
that society has associated with all sick people.
because you don't see the days when i just stare
at a blank wall because there is nothing
nothing and no one that interests me.

and don't get me wrong.
i love you all.
i just have no support from you
because you don't see my illness and
you can't be bothered.
it's fine.
so i hide it further
until i can't anymore
and i find help and support
because i don't want to do it alone

you unfollowed me
which in this generation is
akin to alienation,
it shuts down the waves of good vibrations
and signals the immediate effective termination
of friendship.
in a click of a button,
the tap of a screen,
and everything we've worked toward,
wasn't what it seemed.

you moved away
we never spoke again and i feel like
that's my fault.
why?
you're the one who
ended communication,
gave no explanation and even
closed off an opportunity for reunification,
but it's my fault.

you burnt the bridges
that supported you on the
epic failure that is your journey.
you never tried hard enough
you complained too much.
i believed in you.

i still believe,
with zero proof,
that you could pull yourself from
the rubble of your lies.
and walk through these streets,
head held high,
as a champion of your own design.

your dreams are still attainable,
and i hope the severed lines
of our friendship
was something that pushed you
to be more than you ever thought you could be.

i still believe,
with zero proof,
that you could still put others
first, for a change,
and set forth on the life-changing
journey you wanted.

i hope i was the toxic friend
that was holding you back.
at least then,
i can accept the death of years spent
together, with nothing but love and support on
my end, and nothing but self-diagnosed
illnesses, self-hate, and self-deprecation on yours.

in the air you
breathe.
the lights
you see at
night in the
skies and eyes
of the people you love.
and i feel your pain,
when the hiccups
come,
and the lights
dim.
but they come back
i promise.
they come back brighter
when you look
for a reason to see it.
i feel it.
joy.

its one of my favorite days of the year.
in order:
my birthday
my mom's birthday
Christmas
June 9th

thank you
for my introduction
to love
for selflessness and friendship
for letting me know that love
should not
come with conditions
for carrying my tennis racket
after practice and
waiting for my bus with me
for loving conversations about
the universe and life.
i'll never forget my first love.
thank you.

A human's prerogative is to search
and destroy
We spend a lifetime in search of some
aesthetic
A visual, physical representation
that makes our hearts
ache and our bodies
relax
We spend a lifetime finding
new aesthetics
after walking away from the
burnt remains of our
last one
We find beauty in new things
new people
new life
everyday
Because yesterday’s
beauty no longer exists.
In a world where black meets white
colors change at alarming rates
until it there is nothing,
until it has lost its originality,
it’s beauty.
A human’s prerogative is to search
and destroy
After finding the perfect aesthetic
we had built up and put on a shrine
we set in to flames in full viewing
of the world.
After looking beauty in the face
we punch it
we break it
We call it names
until beauty destroys itself
After transforming something ordinary
into something unique
We put it in live viewing
for the world to see it,
judge it,
break it down,
destroy the source of beauty
so more beautiful things can never emerge.
As humans, we see beauty in little things;
so we catch them in nets
and hang their corpses
on our walls as
trophies, as an
ode to a former beauty
that lives on as a decoration
and not as it was intended.
We destroy what we don’t
understand.
We destroy what we don’t
have.
We destroy what we can’t
create.
Because we were taught
by generations of humans before us
to search for and destroy life.

The signs have always been there
You chose to ignore the marks
on my wrists, my thighs, my feet.
I chose to ignore your furrowed brows
And I chose not to offer pleads.
I cannot remember a time before I was this broken
Before your calloused hands roamed my bloodless skin and left in its wake, marks more permanent than any tattoo you don’t approve of.
And now
I’ve learnt to make jokes at my own expense to prove that my pain is owned only by me

i fell in love with
the idea
of falling in love,
with the idea
of you.
you were without
question,
the one that
made my heart
pound.
the one that
opened
my mind to
thoughts i didn't think
i could have.
i fell in love with the
idea of love and the
space between us seemed
to narrow in my mind.
and knowing this
made it easy
to spend the summer
falling out of
love with all
the ideas of
you.

who is this?
I didn't care enough
to save your number
or even our most recent texts.
who is this?
I have forgotten you
because there was
nothing worth
remembering.
who is this?
a text lights up the
screen and all I see is
a series of 10 digits
that spark no memory.
who is this?
my least favorite message
from anyone
especially
you.